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diff --git a/76570-h/76570-h.htm b/76570-h/76570-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e794967 --- /dev/null +++ b/76570-h/76570-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,28618 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Woodcliff, by Harriet B. McKeever +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.report {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76570 ***</div> + +<h1> +<br><br> + WOODCLIFF.<br> +</h1> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t2"> + HARRIET B. McKEEVER,<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + AUTHOR OF "EDITH'S MINISTRY," "SUNSHINE," "FLOUNCED ROBE," ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + PHILADELPHIA:<br> + LINDSAY & BLAKISTON.<br> + 1865.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by<br> + LINDSAY & BLAKISTON,<br> + in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States<br> + for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAN & SON. PRINTED BY SHERMAN & CO.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> + CONTENTS.<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + CHAPTER<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent" style="line-height: 1.5"> + I.—<a href="#chap01">The Sea-Shore</a><br> + II.—<a href="#chap02">A Ride on Horseback</a><br> + III.—<a href="#chap03">Maddy's Triumph</a><br> + IV.—<a href="#chap04">Too Proud to Bend</a><br> + V.—<a href="#chap05">Youthful Visions</a><br> + VI.—<a href="#chap06">A Scotch Matron</a><br> + VII.—<a href="#chap07">The Cottage and the Hall</a><br> + VIII.—<a href="#chap08">Boston Relatives</a><br> + IX.—<a href="#chap09">Home Again</a><br> + X.—<a href="#chap10">Sunshine at the Hall, Shadows at the Cottage</a><br> + XI.—<a href="#chap11">A Mother's Life Sorrow</a><br> + XII.—<a href="#chap12">Stars in the Night Season</a><br> + XIII.—<a href="#chap13">Driftwood</a><br> + XIV.—<a href="#chap14">Excelsior</a><br> + XV.—<a href="#chap15">Strife</a><br> + XVI.—<a href="#chap16">Rugged Hills for Weary Feet</a><br> + XVII.—<a href="#chap17">Mirage, or Madeline after a Triumph</a><br> + XVIII.—<a href="#chap18">The Early Dawn</a><br> + XIX.—<a href="#chap19">"Auld Lang Syne"</a><br> + XX.—<a href="#chap20">Out in the Light</a><br> + XXI.—<a href="#chap21">Searching for Scottish Friends</a><br> + XXII.—<a href="#chap22">Mist on the Mountain</a><br> + XXIII.—<a href="#chap23">Graham Hall</a><br> + XXIV.—<a href="#chap24">Wings Clipped that had Commenced to Soar</a><br> + XXV.—<a href="#chap25">Parting from English Friends</a><br> + XXVI.—<a href="#chap26">The First Link Lost and Found</a><br> + XXVII.—<a href="#chap27">Hearts' Ease</a><br> + XXVIII.—<a href="#chap28">Seaweed</a><br> + XXIX.—<a href="#chap29">Beatitudes</a><br> + XXX.—<a href="#chap30">Fellow Heirs of the Grace of Life</a><br> + XXXI.—<a href="#chap31">Reunion</a><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +WOODCLIFF. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER I. +<br><br> +THE SEA-SHORE. +</h3> + +<p> +It is a summer afternoon—the light fleecy clouds float +lazily over the glowing landscape—the sun is shining +brightly over the deep blue waves, gilding their crested +foam with sparkling diamonds, and lighting up the golden +hair of a little girl, who sits upon the beach, gazing out +upon the wide-spread ocean. It is a graceful form which +sits there, tapping her dainty little foot, and laying her +hand caressingly, every now and then, upon the head of +her favorite old dog, Hector. +</p> + +<p> +Her hat is thrown down by her side, and leaves uncovered +a head of remarkable beauty: the deep blue eyes, +fringed with their dark lashes, express a world of feeling; +the delicately arched nostril and curved mouth betoken +pride, but a troop of dimples is playing around that +expressive feature, lighting up the whole face with arch +humor; the transparent complexion, through which glows, in +rosy tints, the feelings of her sensitive nature, lends its +finishing touch of enchanting loveliness to the sweet +picture; and, as the sea-breeze lifts the flowing ringlets which +lie in such rich profusion around her shoulders, seldom +could be seen such a revelation of bright and happy +childhood as the young being who sits there, singing one of her +favorite songs. +</p> + +<p> +A passer-by, who knows something of the thorny paths +of life's pilgrimage, would scarce know which to do, to +sigh or smile at the glimpse of such a beaming face; but +the ever-changing expression and flitting color would be +most likely to cause a sigh, as one might anticipate the +discipline which such a spirit must taste in a rough and +stormy world. +</p> + +<p> +But we will not anticipate sorrows, sweet child! +</p> + +<p> +Bright days of happy childhood are before thee! +</p> + +<p> +She certainly dreams of nothing yet but joy, and hope, +and love. +</p> + +<p> +"You're a good dog, Hector—don't we love each other, +old fellow?" and Madeline stooped down to rub her cheek +against her pet's shaggy head. +</p> + +<p> +Looking up in her face as though he understood all she +said, he seemed proud of his little friend's caresses, and +making a kind of pleasant growl, he put up his shaggy paw, +as was his custom, when he wanted to be especially petted. +Not far from where she sits, may be seen a group of children +playing with their wheelbarrows. +</p> + +<p> +A little girl of six, and two older boys are busily engaged +in filling their barrows with shining white pebbles, +and while pursuing their innocent play, they prattle +merrily together about the riches which they supposed +themselves to be gathering. +</p> + +<p> +But little difference is there between these children and +men of larger growth—for these are gathering pebbles, and +men are gathering dust. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here! Philip," said the little girl, "I am sure that +this is a real diamond; don't you remember when John +Stanley came from Cape May, what a heap of diamonds he +brought with him, and sold them for ever so much money?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sis, but then you know that he said you might +gather a great many pebbles, before you get one diamond?" +</p> + +<p> +"But I'm sure, Philip, that I have found a great many; +so clear and so big; I'm so glad, because I'll give 'em all +to mother, and we shall be so rich; she won't have to work +so hard any longer; I could work here all day if I could +only see dear mother smile again." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you're a good little girl, sis, and I hope that we +shall find that you are right," and as they continued their +innocent employment, they sang cheerily, and little Susan, +in her delight, would frequently stop to clap her hands, and +dance with joy. Just then, a couple of boys came up, who +had been watching the children for some time. +</p> + +<p> +They were clad in the height of boyish fashion, and with +a conceited air, approached our little speculators, tapping +their pantaloons with their canes, and with a supercilious +manner, accosted them. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you about there, you little fools?" said Harry +Castleton. "Do you call these stones that you have been +wheeling up diamonds? they're nothing but common pebbles, +and you're a set of fools for your pains—you'd better +go home, and dig potatoes," and rudely snatching the +wheelbarrow, Harry tumbled it down to the edge of the +surf, and upset all the contents into the ocean; while +Charles Davenport stood by snapping his fingers with +malicious delight. +</p> + +<p> +It was a dreadful loss to poor little Susan, who burst into +a bitter fit of weeping, and Philip stood looking angrily on. +</p> + +<p> +These were larger boys, and neither of Susan's brothers +felt old enough to attack them, although they were boiling +with anger. +</p> + +<p> +Just at that moment, a poor boy who had seen the whole +proceeding, stepped up. +</p> + +<p> +'Tis true that he wore patched pantaloons, which were +too short, and an old threadbare jacket; but his linen collar, +though coarse, was white; and his shoes, though very old +and worn out, were neatly tied with black strings—poverty +was stamped upon his attire, but nobility upon his broad +expansive brow. +</p> + +<p> +A look of manliness which shot from his fine dark eyes, +and the firmness which compressed the lip, rather overawed +the boys who saw him advancing; but when their mean +spirits perceived the poverty of his attire, contempt +mastered their temporary fear, and they stood ready for the +encounter. +</p> + +<p> +"For shame! young gentlemen," said the boy, "couldn't +you find your equals in size and age when you attempt +such cowardly acts?" +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you, sir?" said Harry Castleton, "that you +dare speak to your betters in such a tone? take yourself +off in a minute, or I'll lay the weight of my cane across +your face." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm a boy like yourself, young gentleman, but I scorn +to attack weak little children in their plays, or to fight with +puppies." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you dare to call me a puppy?" shouted Harry Castleton, +and flying at the boy, he dealt him a violent blow +across the face, causing the blood to fly from his nose, and +at the same moment, kicking the little wheelbarrow out into +the ocean. +</p> + +<p> +The little girl with the golden locks had been looking on +the scene, but as soon as she saw the blow struck by the +young upstart, she flew towards the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Harry Castleton! aren't you ashamed of yourself! first +to disturb these poor little children, and then to make +a coward of yourself by attacking a boy that won't fight?" +and hastening up to the boy, she took her delicate +handkerchief, and wiping his bleeding nose, she said kindly, +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid that you are hurt." +</p> + +<p> +"Not much, miss, it's only a trifle;" but as she seated +the boy, she perceived the blood gushing from a wound in +the temple, that she had not seen before. +</p> + +<p> +Running to the surf, she brought the handkerchief back +again, and with the most tender, generous care, continued +wiping the blood which still kept oozing from the wound. +</p> + +<p> +Charles and Harry stood by sneering. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, coz," said Charles, "you are making a fool of +yourself, waiting upon a beggar boy, as if he were the son +of a gentleman." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think that fine clothes always make the gentleman; +for I'm sure I've learned this afternoon, that the feelings +of a gentleman may lodge under a threadbare jacket; +what is your name young gentleman?" continued the +child. +</p> + +<p> +"My name is Roland Bruce," was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"And mine is Madeline Hamilton," was the frank response. +"Why didn't you knock Harry down! I should have +been so angry that I'm sure I should have struck back +again." +</p> + +<p> +"I was very angry, miss, but I've been taught that 'He +who mastereth his spirit, is better than he that taketh a +city.' +</p> + +<p> +"But when you are struck, I think that you ought to +defend yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"I did, by trying to ward off the blow; but I should have +made it no better by stooping to fight with such a boy as +that." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm glad to see that you're a proud boy," +continued the child, laughing, "and I'm sure that you made +those upstarts ashamed of themselves—see how they're +slinking off! I'm ashamed to call Charles Davenport +cousin—do you feel better?" added the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, thank you, I'm much obliged to you for your +kindness; and here, miss, is your pocket-handkerchief." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want it," said the child; "you must wear it +home," and she tied it carefully over the wounded temple. +</p> + +<p> +As the boy raised his cap to bid her good afternoon, +looking after him, she said aloud, "I wonder what is meant +by a nobleman, nature's nobleman? I guess that's one—I'd +rather call him cousin, with his patched clothes, than that +mean, contemptible pair." +</p> + +<p> +Thus soliloquized Madeline Hamilton, the spoiled and +petted child of rich Mr. Hamilton, of Woodcliff. Turning +to little Susan, who still cried for her wheelbarrow, she +said, +</p> + +<p> +"Let us see if we can't find your barrow," and running +down to the shore, she found that it had been washed up, +and was fastened between a couple of large stones, from +which she soon lifted it, and restored it to the poor child. +</p> + +<p> +"Come over to Woodcliff to-morrow, and Aunt Matilda +will give you something." Then giving the child particular +directions, Madeline returned to the spot where she had +left her flat, and calling Hector, hastened home. It was a +tolerably long walk, and by the time that she reached home, +it was late sundown. +</p> + +<p> +She entered full of excitement. Throwing down her flat, +and seating herself at the tea-table, she commenced telling +her adventure. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda," continued the child, "what is a +nobleman—nature's nobleman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, a nobleman is one who is born of a noble family, +to be sure," was the answer. "Our descent is English, +and our ancestors were all nobles." +</p> + +<p> +"Once I remember that you told me a nobleman was +coming to dine with us, and I expected to see a very grand +person; and when he came, he was only a little man, who +took snuff out of a gold snuff-box, drank wine, and talked +about hunting. I didn't see anything noble about him. +Another time, our pastor said that Mr. Linwood would call +upon us, who had divided a very large fortune equally +among his brothers and sisters, though they had all been +cut off by the father's will. Our pastor called him noble, +because he had done a noble deed. Now, aunty, there is +no use to try to make me believe anything else—everybody +is noble who does noble acts; and I don't care how he is +dressed, or where he lives. Now, aunty, don't be affronted, +I can't help my feelings; I do love good people, and +high-spirited people, even in rags; and I hate mean, low-minded +people, even dressed in fine clothes. I can't act deceitfully; +they make me mad, and I can't help showing it. Now, +aunty, what is a gentleman?" +</p> + +<p> +"One who is brought up with the manners of a gentleman, +who dresses like a gentleman, and who belongs to a +genteel family." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, aunt, I suppose then that you call Charles +Davenport a gentleman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, to be sure I do." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I call him a vulgar, low-bred boy; and, aunt, +I suppose that you would call Roland Bruce, with his +patched clothes, short pantaloons, and old jacket, a +common boy?" +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure I would, child; why, what is he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I think he must be one of nature's noblemen, for +he looked ever so much grander than Charles or Harry, as +he stood on the beach, taking the part of poor little +children, and wouldn't fight, either. They looked really mean +in their fine dress, and he looked like a hero in his poor +clothes. Give me nature's nobleman, after all, aunty." +</p> + +<p> +"Brother, just listen to the child," said Aunt Matilda; "did +you ever hear such horrid talk? I can't instil any proper +pride into that girl." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton threw himself back in his chair, and +laughed heartily at what he called "Madcap's spirit," and +told his sister "not to be alarmed, for he was afraid that +they'd find too much pride there some day, for either of +them to manage." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda loved her high-spirited little niece, and +found it very easy to forgive her; but she was often sadly +afraid that she would forget her rank, and disgrace her +family, by improper connexions. Soon after tea was over, +Charles and Harry made their appearance, but Madeline +was still so indignant that she quickly left the room, and +steadily refused all her aunt's entreaties to return. +</p> + +<p> +"They're a mean pair, aunty, and I can't see either of +them this evening," was all the response that she could +obtain from her wilful little niece. +</p> + +<p> +Before retiring, the warm-hearted child sought her father's +study, and seating herself on his lap, laid her cheek softly +against his, and said, "Papa, kiss me before I go to bed. +If I've said anything wrong, forgive me, dear papa." +</p> + +<p> +"No, little Mad-cap, you've done nothing wrong; only, +dear, I don't want you to associate with all kinds of +common people." And thus the impulsive child's faults were +winked at by her indulgent father, and false worldly +sentiments inculcated by her frivolous aunt. The next day, +little Susan presented herself at Woodcliff, and Aunt +Matilda, who was really kind-hearted, gave her some very nice +garments for her mother and brothers; and Madeline, with +the impulsiveness of her nature, was loading gifts upon her +that were wholly unsuitable, until aunty came in to check +the profuseness of the generous child; and Madeline was +sadly disappointed as she carried back to her wardrobe a +handsomely flounced pink lawn, and a pretty little jaunty +hat trimmed with flowers. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sure they would have been very nice for Sundays," +soliloquized the child; "at any rate, I wanted her to have +them. Aunt Matilda is so stingy and so cross—dear me! +I wish I was a young lady, just to do as I please. I'll +have what I want, and give what I choose, then, that I will." +</p> + +<p> +Many a nice garment found its way to Mrs. Grant, for +Madeline regarded little Susan as her own particular +protégé after the adventure by the sea-shore, and the child +herself was never tired of telling her mother about the good +boy that took her part so warmly, and the beautiful child +that wiped his face with her fine linen handkerchief; and +the mother could not help laughing as she mimicked the +manner in which Harry and Charles sneaked away after +her indignant rebuke; "and I am sure that they are no +gentlemen, though they were dressed ever so grand," was +the conclusion that little Susan always reached at the end +of her story. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II. +<br><br> +A RIDE ON HORSEBACK. +</h3> + +<p> +Woodcliff is truly a pleasant home, where Mr. Hamilton +has displayed his fine taste, and rendered it one of the +most attractive residences in the whole neighborhood. It +is a very elegant mansion, surrounded on the first floor by +piazzas, while balconies from the second story command a +fine view of the adjacent country. It stands majestically +on the top of a high cliff, sloping down in grassy terraces to +an artificial lake, where numerous goldfish enjoy their merry +gambols, and where Madeline frequently sits dabbling her +pretty white feet, and throwing crumbs of bread to the pets +which she has tamed. At the back of the house may be +seen a large conservatory, filled with rare and beautiful +flowers, and at the opposite wing a fine library; both wings +opening into gardens laid out with the most exquisite taste, +adorned with every variety of rich and costly shrubbery. +</p> + +<p> +And here has passed the childhood of Madeline Hamilton, +the only and petted child of a father who idolizes her, +and who will not cross her strong will, or deny any +indulgence that wealth can purchase. +</p> + +<p> +Having lost her mother in her infancy, her only female +guide is a maiden aunt, whose weak character is entirely +unable to control the strong will of her wayward little +niece. Indeed, though often much provoked, a few cunning +compliments, and a shower of warm kisses, could at any +time disarm Aunt Matilda's anger; so that by flattering her +aunt, by numerous blandishments, and by sundry coaxing +ways with her father, Madeline pretty generally ruled the +household. Though proud spirited and passionate, she had +a warm and generous nature—a creature of storms, and +tears, and smiles; and parlor and kitchen alike bent to the +will of the spoiled child, for her witcheries had bound all +to her little car. Her favorite amusement was riding about +the country upon a pony, which her father had purchased +for her two years before. +</p> + +<p> +Mounted on Selim, away she would scamper up and +down the lanes and hills of Woodcliff, sometimes attended +by a groom; but if she could contrive to elude his +vigilance, most frequently she took these rides alone. +</p> + +<p> +Selim was very gentle, and they were great friends; but +occasionally he had been known to run away when +suddenly frightened. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda often remonstrated against these wild rides, +but all in vain. +</p> + +<p> +"There she goes like a Mad-cap down the lane! I tell +you, brother, that we shall have her brought home some +day, either crippled or killed." +</p> + +<p> +Just as Aunt Matilda concluded her speech to Mr. Hamilton, +the child turned her beautiful face, beaming with +mischief, back upon her father, and waving her little whip in +defiance, she tossed her bright locks to the wind, and +galloped off. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't bear to restrain her, sister; nothing has ever +happened yet, and it seems such a pity to check such a +spirit as that." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was in high glee, and Selim was equally frolicsome. +Taking the path with which they were both familiar, +she rode gaily along, fearless and joyous, singing some +merry song. +</p> + +<p> +Passing a corner of the road, she was suddenly attracted +by the sight of the boy of the sea-shore. As she passed, +he took off his cap respectfully to the little girl, and she +returned the salutation by reining up her horse, and +inquiring about his injuries. +</p> + +<p> +"They are quite well, miss," was the reply; "and mother +is very thankful to the young lady, who so kindly lent me +her handkerchief." +</p> + +<p> +Just then Maddy perceived Harry and Charles riding +rapidly up the road, and who started off at a quick pace as +they passed her. Charles gave two or three cuts of his +whip upon Selim's haunches, a liberty which he would not +bear. He started in full gallop. Madeline kept her seat +bravely, but with a pale cheek and quivering lip; for now +she was really frightened, and found herself incapable of +checking his speed. On he galloped, more and more fiercely, +for the sight of the flying horses but increased the +swiftness of his flight. +</p> + +<p> +Roland saw her danger, and every moment expected to +see her thrown as he perceived her swaying backward and +forward. With lightning speed, he had started as soon as +he saw the mean act of the boys, and by wondrous efforts +succeeded in reaching the horse. Exerting all his strength, +he headed off the animal at the risk of his life, and seizing +the bridle, held on even while the horse was rearing. +</p> + +<p> +"Hold tight, Miss Madeline," said Roland, with a firm +voice; "men are coming." +</p> + +<p> +At that moment he was thrown to the ground, but still +held on to the bridle, though kicked severely by the +frightened animal. +</p> + +<p> +In another instant two men arrived, who succeeded in +lifting Madeline from Selim's back; and extricating Roland +from his perilous condition, found that he had severely +sprained his ankle, and received several bruises. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was laid fainting upon the ground, and when +the boys who had caused the accident rode up, their +blanched countenances indicated the terror which they +really felt. +</p> + +<p> +"We did not mean to throw you, coz," said Charles; "all +we meant was a little sport." +</p> + +<p> +"You might have killed your cousin, young gentlemen," +answered Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Hold your tongue, you low upstart! What right have +you here?" was the rude reply. +</p> + +<p> +"It was well that I was near, for Miss Madeline had +not much to hope for from her manly cousins." +</p> + +<p> +"Begone! you ragamuffin! We want none of your help." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall not go, sir, until I have seen Miss Madeline safe +in her father's house," was the quick reply; and with a firm +step, Roland advanced towards the little girl, and after she +was sufficiently recovered, succeeded, by the help of the +men, in placing her upon Selim's back, who was now quite +pacified. Roland, though suffering from a sprained ankle, +taking the horse's bridle, led him quietly along. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing Roland master of the field, the two boys sneaked +away, and Madeline said, +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad that they are gone; a pair of mean cowardly +fellows! I can't bear Charley Davenport; but I'm afraid +that you are hurt, Roland," continued the child, "and I'm +so sorry that those rude boys spoke so insultingly. But +don't mind them, Roland; I only wish you were my +cousin, instead of Charles." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't think of me, miss; you were kind to me when I +was hurt the other day; and I am so glad that I can be of +any service to you. As to the boys, I pity them; they have +never been taught what is true politeness." +</p> + +<p> +"There is Woodcliff, Roland," said Madeline, as she +turned into the avenue which led to the house. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton and Aunt Matilda ran hastily down to +meet her; and soon they perceived her horse led slowly +along. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, my darling?" inquired the father, +lifting her from the horse, and alarmed at her pallid +countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Not much, now, papa; but if it had not been for the +bravery of this good boy, I might have been killed," and +as soon as she was seated, she related the story of her +rescue to her grateful father. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, my brave boy," said Mr. Hamilton, as he +wrung Roland's hand. "You have done me a favor which +I shall never forget." +</p> + +<p> +As Roland stood uncovered in Mr. Hamilton's presence, +he thought that he had never seen a more noble boy, +though clad in the garb of poverty. Taking out his pocketbook, +he offered him a five dollar note, a great treasure for +Roland Bruce. Drawing himself proudly up, while the +color mounted to his very temples, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Excuse me, sir; I would not lose the pleasure of helping +Miss Madeline, and poor as I am, I cannot receive +anything for an act so simple." +</p> + +<p> +"If I can serve you in any way, my boy, come to me +freely; I should be most happy to aid you." +</p> + +<p> +Just then the two cousins rode slowly up the avenue, +and felt justly humbled at the sharp reproofs administered +in the presence of Roland Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +"Boys, I am heartily ashamed of you. When you practise +jokes of this kind, let it be on some one beside a little +girl; I am sorry that your cousin had to find a protector in +a stranger." +</p> + +<p> +"Papa, look at Roland, how pale he is!" exclaimed +Madeline, just as he sank down exhausted on the step of +the piazza. +</p> + +<p> +"You are hurt, my boy," said Mr. Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +Roland tried to smile, but the pain of his ankle was so +severe, that he could no longer conceal his sufferings. "I +think that I have sprained my ankle," was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton instantly took off the shoe, and was +shocked to see how much it was swollen. +</p> + +<p> +"You must come in, my boy, and have remedies applied +at once." +</p> + +<p> +After bathing and bandaging the limb, much to the +mortification of the two boys, Roland was sent home in the +buggy, under the care of the coachman. Charles and +Harry shrank away into the house, and Madeline cried +because her friend was hurt. +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you send over to-morrow, papa, to see how he +is? He is such a good, brave boy." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my child, all shall be done that is right; but you +must not fret so much about a stranger." +</p> + +<p> +With the careful nursing of a good mother, and the kind +attentions of Mr. Hamilton, Roland soon recovered, and +Madeline frequently stopped at the cottage door to inquire +for her young protector. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton was sadly puzzled to know what to do +with his wild little daughter. +</p> + +<p> +She was now ten years old, with bright talents, but a +wholly undisciplined mind; for nothing of importance had +yet been done in the great task of education, unless we +except a physical form of perfectly healthy development. +</p> + +<p> +She had free access to her father's library, and devoured +indiscriminately whatever came in her way—history, poetry, +romance—and it was really amusing to see with what +facility she personified her favorite characters; and how +much she remembered of the wild legends of feudal days, +and of the lords and ladies that graced the Courts of Queen +Elizabeth and Mary Stuart. +</p> + +<p> +Sir William Wallace and Robert Bruce, were, however, +her great heroes, and were ever uppermost in her mind +whenever she heard of a great man. +</p> + +<p> +Fairy tales were her delight; and Madeline was never +better pleased than when she could gather an audience of +youthful listeners, to whom she could relate the wonderful +doings of these little people. +</p> + +<p> +Acting out in her fanciful costumes either the grandeur +of Queen Elizabeth, the grace of Mary Stuart, or the +changing fortunes of Cinderella, Madeline amused her +father and Aunt Matilda by her witcheries part of the day, +spending the remainder of her time in her wild frolics on +the back of Selim, scouring the woods, or frequently +attended by Hector, rambling on the sea-shore. +</p> + +<p> +Two or more hair-breadth escapes by land and water, at +last decided Mr. Hamilton that he must get a governess +for his mad-cap daughter, and much to her disgust, she was +told that papa had gone to Boston to bring back a lady, to +take charge of her education. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, I suppose, aunty, that I am to be tied down to +old musty books, slate, pencil and pen, and everlasting +thrumming on the old piano—good-bye to the wild woods, +and the sea-shore. I know I shall get sick; I always get +sick over school-books; and then papa will have to send. +Miss Prosy away; we'll see, that we will," tapping her +little foot impatiently on the velvet carpet, and darting a +quick mischievous glance at her aunt, she continued, "I'll +make this house too warm for Miss Prosy. I tell you, +aunty, she'll be glad to get rid of Madeline Hamilton before +long," and tossing aside her ringlets, she dashed out +of the room, humming a lively tune. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline sought her maid, Nanny, into whose ears she +poured all her grievances. +</p> + +<p> +"Nanny, is it not too bad? There's papa gone off to +Boston, to bring back some horrid old teacher to spoil all +my fun. I expect she is tall and thin, and yellow and +cross. I know I shan't like her; I never did like a teacher +yet." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm real sorry, Miss Maddy, for I think you know more +now than half of the little girls. You can say Cinderella, +and can act Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Mary, and can +make verses, and ever so much." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was a shrewd child, and knew very well that +such foolish things were of no manner of use to any little +girl. +</p> + +<p> +She could not help smiling at Nanny's simplicity, and +said, +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you see, Nanny, these things only amuse me. +I know that there is a great deal more to learn, but I don't +want to take the trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be afraid, miss; your papa won't make you learn +if you don't want to; and if you don't like the teacher, I +can help you to get her away." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a dear good Nanny; I'll give you a new dress, +and pretty collar, if you'll only be my friend." +</p> + +<p> +"I know what to do, miss; if I tell your papa that you +don't sleep well, and that you are getting pale, he'll think +that you are going to be sick, and will send her away, I +know." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Nanny, I am not sick now. I feel as merry as a +lark. Do you want to hear my little song, Nanny?" +</p> + +<p> +Dancing about the room, in a sweet clear voice, she +commenced singing, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Away, away to the woods for me,<br> + Away, away to the dear old sea;<br> + Away up the hills, and down the lanes,<br> + As I give to Selim the lightest reins.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Then away we scamper in many a race,<br> + Giving old Hector a good wild chase;<br> + Books and slates are very good things,<br> + But Mad-cap would rather dance and sing.<br> + Away, away to the woods for me,<br> + Away, away to the dear old sea.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Did you really make up that song, Miss Maddy?" +asked the wondering Nanny. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline burst out laughing as she replied, "Why, yes, +Nanny, I often make up such little pieces." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, how do you do it, Miss Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, Nanny; the words just come to me +themselves." +</p> + +<p> +"Why sure! what a wonderful child! What's the use +of getting a teacher; I guess Miss Prosser can't make +verses." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III. +<br><br> +MADDY'S TRIUMPH. +</h3> + +<p> +Late on Saturday evening, Mr. Hamilton arrived with +a pale sad looking lady, whom he introduced as Miss +Prosser. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda received her as a lady, but wilful little +Madeline, with a cunning glance of her eye, extended her +hand reluctantly, and saluted her as Miss Prosy. +</p> + +<p> +"Prosser, my dear," corrected the father. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, I forgot—Miss Prosser; do you give hard +lessons, Miss Prosy?" continued the child. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think that you will have any cause to +complain, if you will only be diligent and obedient." +</p> + +<p> +"Those are two words which I have never been taught +yet, Miss Prosy." +</p> + +<p> +"Prosser, my dear, Prosser," interrupted the father. +"I hope that you will find Madeline all that you desire +after awhile. She is a wild little girl now; lessons will +be hard at first, and you must not keep her too close." +</p> + +<p> +Monday morning arrived, and Madeline was summoned +to the library, where her studies were to be pursued. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Prosser was one of the rigid school of disciplinarians; +and Madeline, with the quick instinct of a bright +child, soon felt that there would never be any bond of +union between herself and the sad lady, who appointed her +daily tasks. +</p> + +<p> +The first hour passed tolerably, the second wearily, but the +third, which introduced her wild imaginative mind to the +severe discipline of arithmetic, was insufferable; and +throwing down her book impatiently, she said, "I'm tired of this +stuff; I can't do any more this day; good-bye, Miss Prosy," +and away started the wild child, ere her governess could +express her surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Running to her father, who was just going out to ride, +she begged so bewitchingly to accompany him, that papa +could not refuse her; and Miss Prosser had the mortification +of seeing her out of the library window, galloping +down the avenue on Selim, with her flat set jauntily upon +her bright young head, and she, poor lady, mourning over +her wilful scholar. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, my dear, you must not do this again; Miss +Prosser will be offended." +</p> + +<p> +"I was so tired, dear papa; I felt as if I would smother +in that warm room; and when she placed the multiplication +table before me, I knew it was of no use to try; I +shall never learn the horrid old thing, I know." +</p> + +<p> +Day after day, Madeline wearied the patience of her +teacher. Sometimes, when it was her whim, she would +apply herself most earnestly to some favorite exercise, and +surprise her at the quickness with which she mastered even +difficult lessons; but as to regular, systematic study, it was +out of the question. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes she would teaze Miss Prosser with endless +questions. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Prosy, why did you not get married? you are +very good-looking," inquired the teazing child. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Madeline, study that lesson, and don't spend your +time in asking such foolish questions." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not in the humor, Miss Prosy; I feel lazy; I'd +much rather talk; and papa says he don't like me forced +to study." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you want to be an intelligent woman, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, indeed; I am afraid I should be an old +maid, if I think too much of learning. I can gain a great +deal by reading, and that is what I like." +</p> + +<p> +"Aren't you going to study this morning?" continued +Miss Prosser. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think I shall; I don't feel very well; and if you +have no objection, I'll lie down on the sofa, and read the +Lady of the Lake." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Prosser knew that it was in vain to enforce obedience; +for in all cases, appeals to Mr. Hamilton ended in +Madeline's victory, and generally she had to wait upon the +young lady's whims. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Miss Prosser, I do believe that you are growing +gray; and you always look as if you were going to cry." +</p> + +<p> +Just then, perceiving that two large tears dropped upon +the book which she was using, Madeline, with all the +impulsive warmth of her nature, threw her arms around Miss +Prosser, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"I did not mean to hurt your feelings; I do so like a +little bit of fun." +</p> + +<p> +"You should learn, my child, to restrain your impetuous +nature, for thoughtless words may wound as deeply as +intended ones. I have known much of sorrow, Madeline. +Once I was the centre of a happy home, where I was +cherished as tenderly as you are now; but now I am all alone +in the world—an orphan, and penniless." +</p> + +<p> +"Do forgive me, dear Miss Prosser," replied the child; +"I will never do so again," and she hid her face in her +hands, bowed her head and wept. +</p> + +<p> +"I do forgive you, Madeline, heartily: but do, my dear +child, try to think always of the feelings of others." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was subdued all that day. At the table, she +was careful to see that Miss Prosser had the nicest little +delicacies, and when she went to her room at night, the +warm-hearted child followed to see that she was +comfortable, and kissing her, bade her good night. +</p> + +<p> +Matters progressed very well for a few days. Madeline +seemed as if she really meant to be a good child, and under +the new impulse, the governess was hopeful. +</p> + +<p> +The mornings spent in the library were all that she +could desire. It was so pleasant to come into contact with +such a fresh, original mind, as that of her bright little pupil; +and then Madeline really appeared to be learning the art +of self-control. +</p> + +<p> +"There comes Hector!" she exclaimed one morning, as +the sharp bark of her dog was heard at the door. Formerly, +she would have thrown down her books, and rushed out to +meet her favorite. +</p> + +<p> +'Tis true that she did for one moment arise from her +seat, but quickly returning, she said, "There, Hector, go +away this time, that's a good dog;" and though he +continued whining and scratching at the door, she remained +resolute, and refused him admittance. +</p> + +<p> +This was quite a triumph for Madeline, and Miss Prosser +repaid her with a smile of encouragement, which impelled +Madeline, with a heightened color, to renewed efforts of +diligent study. Occasionally, there would be outbreaks of +the old spirt of mischief, but generally, the progress was +onward. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, Madeline, full of excitement, met her +teacher. "Only think Miss Prosser, my cousin is coming; +Lavinia Raymond. Oh! what a nice time we shall have; +she's the girl for fun; when she's here, we are out every +day somewhere. I know papa will give me a holiday; I +mean to coax hard, and he never refuses his little Mad-cap." +</p> + +<p> +"But, my dear child, you certainly don't expect to give +up your studies while Lavinia is here." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed; I think I have learned enough now for +the last month to last me all the time that she stays with +us." +</p> + +<p> +Mad-cap's spirits were fully aroused; it was almost +impossible to bring her into any kind of composure, and +Miss Prosser was compelled to shorten the exercises for +that day at least. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia was expected late in the afternoon. As soon as +dinner was over, Madeline commenced her visits to the window, +the door, and even to the gate, which led to the avenue, +backward and forward, until she was nearly tired out. +</p> + +<p> +"Papa, I don't believe that she is coming at all," at +length uttered the impatient child. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know, my dear, that it is only six o'clock," +replied Mr. Hamilton, smiling, and taking out his watch; +"they cannot possibly reach here before seven, so you had +better run in, and amuse yourself at your piano." +</p> + +<p> +Away ran Maddy—opening her instrument, she rattled +away for about ten minutes; then calling Hector, and +throwing on her flat, down the avenue, through the gate, +and out into the open road she started at full speed. At +length, after sundry races of the same description, she +spied a distant carriage, but was bitterly disappointed +when she found that it only contained a party of strangers. +Seven o'clock came, but no cousin. Discouraged, she +seated herself on the piazza, and when at length she found +that the carriage had entered the avenue, standing tip-toe +on the lower step, she awaited, with a glowing cheek, the +letting down of the carriage step. In another minute, Lavinia +was in her cousin's arms, and Mrs. Raymond warmly +welcomed by her brother-in-law and Aunt Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +She was a woman of the world, devoted to fashion, and +training her daughter in all its follies. Lavinia was two +years older than Madeline, but completely a spoiled child +of folly—the only bond of sympathy between her and +Madeline, was their mutual love of mischief. +</p> + +<p> +"Take me to my room, Maddy, I want to make my +toilet," was the first request of Lavinia; and accompanied +by her maid, Madeline led her to her chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Our natural little girl was greatly amused by the pains +bestowed upon a child's toilet; for the utmost time that +Madeline could spare, was to bathe thoroughly, twist her +ringlets hastily around her fingers, put on her simple dress, +and without another thought, her toilet was completed. +But Lavinia, was washed and powdered, combed and +pomatummed, her head dressed like a woman's, and after +the indulgence of an hour's whims, Susette pronounced +her "comme il faut." What a contrast between the +affectation of Lavina Raymond, and the natural sportive +grace of Madeline Hamilton! +</p> + +<p> +At the table, Mrs. Raymond answered the polite bow +of Miss Prosser with a supercilious stare, and Lavinia, +imitating her mother's rudeness, scarcely noticed her +presence. +</p> + +<p> +After a few days of unrestrained license, Miss Prosser +ventured to remonstrate with Mr. Hamilton, but he could +not think of interfering with Mad-cap's pleasures; and all +that he would consent to was, that Lavinia and Madeline +should spend two hours daily at their studies, unless +otherwise engaged. Two or three mornings of every +week, they were off on some excursion of pleasure; the +remainder of the time was broken in upon by every trivial +excuse that could be invented. Indeed, since Lavinia's +arrival, Miss Prosser's influence was at an end; lessons +were to be excused, musical practice virtually had closed. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia would not study, and even when Madeline was +so disposed, she would not allow her to do anything but +play. Weary were the hours of the sad governess, and once +more the prospect of another change began to loom up +gloomily in the distant horizon. She had hoped that she +was at least for years at rest; but the orders to march rang +daily in her ears. +</p> + +<p> +After many trials and disappointments, Miss Prosser, +utterly discouraged, was contemplating the perplexity of her +situation. Seated one morning in the library, waiting for +her wayward pupils, she was suddenly surprised by the +entrance of Mr. Hamilton. Her sad weary expression of +countenance touched him for a moment, and he said, "I am +sorry, Miss Prosser, that my little girl is so wilful, but I +have not the heart to deny her anything, and when Lavinia +has gone, we shall return to the old order of things." +</p> + +<p> +"I fear, by that time, my dear sir, that I shall find it +impossible to bring Madeline into any kind of subjection; I +am greatly perplexed, for I cannot bear to receive a salary +for doing nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"You need not mind, Miss Prosser, if I do not complain." +</p> + +<p> +"I do object, sir, to receive a salary without giving the +equivalent, and seriously conclude that I cannot do so much +longer." +</p> + +<p> +"Do have a little patience, Miss Prosser; Lavinia will +leave in about a month, and then we shall be regular once +more." +</p> + +<p> +Poor Miss Prosser was still severely tried; practical jokes +were frequently played upon her, and although she was +certain that Madeline had not taken an active part in them, +still it pained her to see that even she could be amused at +her expense. Matters grew worse instead of better; Madeline +was impatient, and Lavinia indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +The month rolled on; Lavinia and her mother took their +departure; and Miss Prosser endeavored once more to +regain her influence over her pupil. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Madeline, aren't you tired of play?" asked the +governess. +</p> + +<p> +"No, indeed; I hate books and study, and long, sad faces; +Lavinia don't go to school but half the year, and I am going +to coax papa to let me stop until next winter." +</p> + +<p> +"Just come, now, Madeline, and let us read a little +together; you have not said one lesson for three weeks." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I suppose I must, just to please you, Miss Prosser; +but let it be a short one." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy soon commenced yawning, and as soon as the lesson +was over, brought out her favorite volume of Shakspeare, +and really did manage to spend another hour in +searching for beauties in her pet author; but one hour was +sufficient, and, begging to be excused, she was gone. And +thus the patience of the poor lady was taxed daily, her +spirits sank, and too conscientious to hold such a position, +she fully made up her mind to resign. Accordingly, on +the next day, Madeline's father was summoned to the +library. +</p> + +<p> +"I have sent for you, Mr. Hamilton, to resign my charge; +I have tried it for six months, but in vain. Your child has +the brightest talents, but the system of indulgence pursued +towards her, precludes entirely the possibility of +improvement. I must have my pupils advance, or I cannot be +happy. I have nothing else to complain of; my quarter +will expire next week, and then I feel that I ought to leave." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, Miss Prosser; but I suppose that it cannot +be helped." +</p> + +<p> +The lady smiled at this acknowledgment of weakness; +but her resolution was taken. +</p> + +<p> +The sad, pale teacher took her leave on the following +Saturday, and when Madeline found that she was really +going, with the perverseness of such wayward natures, she +was actually sorry; she had learned to respect her +governess, and really liked her better than any who had ever +taught her before. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Miss Prosser; I am sorry that I have been +so naughty, but I can't help it. Papa says so; and I know +it is so. Here's a breastpin, with some of Mad-cap's hair +in it; will you show that you forgive me by wearing +it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, my dear child; I shall always remember +your warm little heart; and if ever you change your ways, +and desire to hear from your friend, write to Messrs. Wood +& Co., Boston. I think that you will, Madeline; but some +one else must be the teacher. I have tried my utmost, and +failed." +</p> + +<p> +Strange to say, Madeline shed some natural tears as +she saw the carriage vanish with her governess; but in a +few days, the feeling of perfect liberty in which she revelled, +obliterated all the regret, and Hector and Selim were +again her constant companions. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear me, brother," said Aunt Matilda, "what shall +we do with the child; she is now nearly eleven, and +scarcely any education." +</p> + +<p> +"Time enough yet, Matilda; she'll be all right; don't be +afraid of Mad-cap, she is bright as a diamond." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV. +<br><br> +TOO PROUD TO BEND. +</h3> + +<p> +"I wish I had something to do; I am tired of playing, +tired of riding, tired of everything—I have nobody to +speak to but papa, and Aunt Matilda, and Selim, and my +other pets." Thus soliloquized Madeline, as, with a weary +yawn, she threw herself upon the sofa in the library. "I +get so tired of Aunt Matilda, she never talks any sense: +nothing but head-dresses, and her complexion, her white +hands, and the days when she was young. Miss Prosser +did talk sense, and I wish she were back again; I always +liked her when she made me do what she commanded. +I did not let her know it, though; I am too proud for +that." And Madeline tapped her little foot upon the carpet, her +usual way of expressing a chafed, impatient spirit. "I +think I heard the bell ring," and running to the window, +she peeped through the thin curtains, to see who was +there. "Oh! dear, if there isn't Roland Bruce—what's +that he has got in his basket?" Just then a servant +entered. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Madeline, a poor boy wants to see you at the door." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes, I know; I am so glad to see him," and away +she flew. +</p> + +<p> +Roland took off his cap as soon as he saw the little +girl, and with a modest air, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"I thought, Miss Madeline, that you would like these +pretty doves," uncovering his basket. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline peeped in, and there lay the sweetest little +ring-doves, with their soft eyes looking up in her face. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Roland, what a good boy you are! they are so +pretty; it's just what I have wanted so long." +</p> + +<p> +"Here's some chickweed, too, Miss Madeline, for your +canary; we have so much in our garden; and I thought +you would like some lilies of the valley." +</p> + +<p> +"O, thank you, Roland, how good you are to remember +me! Now let us run out into the garden, and you shall +plant the lilies." +</p> + +<p> +Leaving her doves in the care of Nanny, her own maid, +away scampered the child, hair flying, and eyes beaming +with innocent delight. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, Roland, this is my garden," said the child, +pointing to a corner of the grounds which bore many +marks of careless culture. "Here I come to dig and weed, +but I get tired of it; I get tired of everything, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"If you'll let me, I'll come, Miss, and look after your +flowers; I know something about them, for we raise them +and sell them to our neighbors. I have not forgotten your +kindness, Miss Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you were my brother, or my cousin, Roland, +what nice times we should have! I have a boat, a pony, +and a dog, and so many things; but for all that, I get so +tired." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you any books, Miss Madeline?" continued the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Books! why I have more than I can count—all kinds +of books." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you never study, Miss Madeline?" inquired Roland, +with a look of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Study! no, indeed, I hate study. I like to read stories, +and poetry, and fairy tales, and accounts of great men—did +you ever hear of Robert Bruce? he's my hero; +wasn't it nice when the spider taught him such a lesson?" +</p> + +<p> +"I've read about him, Miss Madeline, for my mother +has told me so much about Scotland—both my parents +were Scotch." +</p> + +<p> +"Were they, Roland? may be you're some relation to +Robert Bruce; why I do believe you are." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled at her simplicity, and stooping down, +planted his modest flowers in a shady corner. +</p> + +<p> +"Wouldn't you like to go to our school, Miss Madeline? +Mr. Norton is such a good teacher." +</p> + +<p> +"Where is your school, Roland?" asked the child. +</p> + +<p> +"It is about a mile from here, in Maple Lane, and such +a pleasant walk in fine weather." +</p> + +<p> +"Is Mr. Norton cross, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, indeed; he's the best friend that I ever had." +</p> + +<p> +"Have they more teachers than one?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—Mr. Norton the principal, Miss Adams the first +assistant, and Miss Corning second." +</p> + +<p> +"Are there many scholars, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think we have sixty, Miss Madeline; Mr. Norton +makes everything so pleasant, and learning so easy." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll coax papa to let me come; you'll help me to learn, +won't you, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was sorry when Roland turned to go home. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye," said the child, "you'll see me at your +school; if I take it into my head, I can go;" and running +back to the house, once more she visited her little pets, +and named them Patty and Jim. Impatiently she awaited +papa's arrival from his ride. As soon as he was seated, +jumping on his lap, she threw her arms around his neck, +and looking up in his face with her own bewitching way, +she said: +</p> + +<p> +"Now, papa, I want you to promise me something." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, Maddy? It is not much that I can refuse you." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it's something good, papa; you'll like it, I know. +I want you to let me go to the school in Maple Lane. +Mary James, Minnie Scott, Lizzie Belton, and Ellen +Taylor all go; and I think it will be much better than +school all alone, and no one to speak to but the teacher." +</p> + +<p> +"I must make some inquiries first, Mad-cap," answered +her father. +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you go to-morrow, papa? I want to go right +off, and I promise you that I'll study hard; just let me go, +that's a dear papa." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'll see about it to-morrow, Madeline, and if all +is right, you shall go; I will do anything to make you +learn." +</p> + +<p> +Next morning Mr. Hamilton made the necessary calls +upon the parents of the children named by Madeline, saw +the principal, entered her name, and all being satisfactory, +his consent was fully given. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Maddy, all is settled; you will go on Monday to +Maple Lane. I hope that you will be a good little girl, +and not get tired of it in a week or two." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope, my dear niece," said Aunt Matilda, "that you +will show some proper pride, and not make an acquaintance +of everybody that you meet. You must remember that +there are many very common people who go to school +there; no associates for Madeline Hamilton, the heiress of +Woodcliff." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline put on her mischievous air as she replied, "I'm +afraid I shall often forget that I must act the little +princess; for when I meet a right funny little girl, I don't +often stop to ask who she is, but I just play with those I +like." +</p> + +<p> +Monday morning came round; papa's summer carriage +was brought up, and Maddy, with a glowing cheek and +dancing step, seated herself by her father's side. A neat +little satchel, and a basket with a nice lunch pleased our +little girl mightily, for she had never seemed like a scholar +before. +</p> + +<p> +Maddy was now about eleven years old—a bright +animated being; and when Mr. Hamilton took her by the +hand, and led her up to the desk of the principal, all eyes +were turned towards the shy little creature, who was really +abashed by the gaze of so many young faces, all looking +with curious eyes upon the young stranger. +</p> + +<p> +"I have brought you my little girl, Mr. Norton; she is +my only child, and quite a darling at home. She has been +so much petted, that I fear you will find her sadly deficient." +</p> + +<p> +"We have excellent teachers, Mr. Hamilton, but strict +discipline; I fear that you may think it too much so for +your little daughter." +</p> + +<p> +"We can try it, Mr. Norton, and if too strict, there is an +easy remedy. May I ask in what class she will be placed?" +</p> + +<p> +"I presume in Miss Corning's; she has the youngest +children." +</p> + +<p> +By this time, Madeline had gained courage enough to +look around her, and was delighted to greet Roland Bruce +on the opposite side of the room. Finally, papa took leave; +Madeline underwent examination, and was placed under +Miss Corning's care. Her chief study for the first day was +faces and characters, for she was a quick little one at the +latter. +</p> + +<p> +Maddy was much amused at the pretensions of some of +the purse-proud in the neighborhood, and inwardly resolved +that none of these would-be-ladies should be among her +friends. +</p> + +<p> +During the intermission, Lizzie Belton, a young miss of +fourteen, anxious to cultivate the acquaintance of a Hamilton, +stepped forward with rather a patronizing air, to take +Madeline out to the play-ground; but the proud little girl +declined the honor, and looked eagerly around for Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so glad that you have come, Roland," said the child. +"I don't know any of these girls except by name, and I +don't care for them. They all seem to think themselves so +grand, because they are dressed fine. I don't care for +clothes that are too good for a brisk race." +</p> + +<p> +Roland had seen that the child was even rude to some +of the girls, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Madeline, don't you think it would be better to +be a little sociable with them? You will have enemies +among them if you do not." +</p> + +<p> +"If I can find one real little girl, who likes me for myself +alone, that is the playmate for me. Bring your sister, +Roland; I'd rather play with Effie, than any of the rest of +them." +</p> + +<p> +"She is not here to-day, Miss Madeline!" +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think of Miss Corning, Roland? I don't +think I shall like her very much; she has such a stern, +cross way of speaking, She need not order me about; I +can be led, but I can't be driven!" and the proud spirit +flashed in Madeline's expressive eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Just obey the rules, and study well, Miss Madeline, +and you'll have no trouble with Miss Corning; but if you +don't, you'll have a hard time. Every one has to mind +her, and you must not try to have your own way here." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is that queer-looking boy sitting under the tree, +Roland?" asked the child. +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled as he said, "Poor fellow! he is not very +smart; his name is Tony Willikins; he is an only son, and +his father is a very rich man, and gives him everything he +wants." +</p> + +<p> +Just then Tony came near where Madeline was seated, +and being an admirer of pretty little girls, he stopped +before her, and making an attempt to bow by pulling his cap +suddenly from his head, and clapping it under his arm, he +said, +</p> + +<p> +"How do you do, Miss? Please tell me your name." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline burst out laughing at the grotesque figure that +stood before her, twisting his watch-chain, and simpering +in such an unmeaning manner. +</p> + +<p> +"My name is Mad-cap Hamilton," answered the child. +</p> + +<p> +"That's a queer name! I don't like it much, Miss. My +name is Anthony Willikins; my pop lives in a great big +house; we have six horses and two carriages, and three +dogs, and a big garden, and ever so many books, but I can't +read any of 'em yet; and I've got a boat all to myself, and +one carriage and two horses. Wouldn't you like to take a +ride with me, some day? I'd like to take you; pop would +let me, I know; won't you ask your pop to let you go?" +</p> + +<p> +All this time Madeline was convulsed with laughter, and +could scarcely answer. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think papa would let me go, Tony; he does not +like me to go with strangers." +</p> + +<p> +Just then the bell rang, and after a short afternoon +session, the school was dismissed, and Madeline went home +with her tasks for the next day. +</p> + +<p> +While the novelty lasted, duties progressed very well; +but the old habits of indolence returned, and then came the +warfare between Madeline, the self-willed, and Miss +Corning, the determined. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, how is it that you now come daily unprepared +with your lessons?" inquired the lady. +</p> + +<p> +"I had something else to do," was the quick reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you expect to go home without reciting them?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, Miss Corning! I cannot learn them all in +school." +</p> + +<p> +"We will see, Madeline! for you can't leave the room +at recess, or go home until they are learned perfectly." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline threw her books aside, and sat with burning +cheek and flashing eye, while the tapping of her little foot +betrayed the tempest within. Miss Corning said no more +at that time. +</p> + +<p> +Roland saw the storm that was brewing, and seating +himself near his little friend, he whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"Do not act so, Miss Madeline; it is very wrong. God +sees you, and you are sinning against him, by not obeying +those who have the rule over you." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked up surprised at Roland, wondering how +a poor boy could dare so boldly reprove her. But he was +not at all abashed; he knew that he was right, and +Madeline wrong, and he returned the look of indignant scorn +with one of pity. +</p> + +<p> +"How dare you pity me, Roland Bruce? Don't you +know that I am Madeline Hamilton?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, miss, I know all that, and I'm very sorry for it, +for my Bible says that 'To whom much is given, of him +much will be required;' Madeline Hamilton, therefore, is +bound to be a better, wiser, holier child than Bessie Carter, +because she has more advantages." +</p> + +<p> +Though Mad-cap was so angry, she inwardly respected +the boy, who though so far beneath her in social rank, had +the courage to lay her faults plainly before her. +</p> + +<p> +She sat however, still sullen and silent, and Roland said +no more; recess had passed, and the school duties were +resumed. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Corning glanced occasionally towards her refractory +pupil, not at all disposed to yield one inch. Madeline's +reflections were of the most mortifying character. She +liked and respected Roland Bruce, and now she feared that +she had lost his friendship by her bad conduct; then the +inward conviction that she was wrong, and must at last +own it, was deeply humbling to her pride. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon passed by, school was dismissed, and +Roland still lingered. Walking directly up to Madeline, +he said in a manly tone: +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Madeline, you are all wrong; just say so; give +up this rebellion, and recite your lessons. I can't go home +and leave you here; I would not leave Effie, and I cannot +leave you." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was melting; for one moment she hesitated, +and then turning with swimming eyes, extended her little +hand to Roland, as she said: +</p> + +<p> +"You are a true friend; you have dared to tell a spoiled +child how bad she is, and I honor you for it. I will study +all my lessons, if you will only hear me say them." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Corning nodded assent, and Madeline set to work +with a good will to accomplish her task. Soon she mastered it, +and it was a curious sight to behold the flattered +and petted child subdued and penitent, looking in Roland's +face so timidly, for approval and encouragement. Such is +the force of a strong character, even in a boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me, Miss Corning," said the humbled little +girl, "you don't know how I have been spoiled; but I will +try to be better in future." +</p> + +<p> +"You will always find me a friend, Madeline, when you +do right, but a severe judge when you persist in wrong," +was the immediate response. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Roland," said the child, as she left the +school-room; "don't think me so dreadfully bad. I am so +sorry," and she wept bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Miss Madeline, I am so glad that you confessed +that you were wrong; it has raised you so much in +my regard; try to do right, and God will help you, Miss +Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy had learned two valuable lessons on that day: +one, that there were two in the world stronger than she, +to whom she must submit; and the other, that happiness +follows a conquest over the natural evils of a sinful heart. +Her path was smooth and pleasant for some time; she +was studious, and improved rapidly. Roland was her fast +friend; aiding her in every difficult lesson, and keeping a +constant watch over the outbreaks of her passionate +nature. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Adams was one of Roland's teachers, and had a +brother in school about his age. George Adams was a +bright boy, but could not compete with Roland Bruce; and +feelings of jealousy, both on the sister and brother's side, +were often manifested. A written examination was to take +place, which was to decide the question of promotion. +George Adams and Roland were in the same class, and had +an equal number of questions to answer in grammar, +geography, and algebra. Their desks were side by side. +Roland had carefully written out all his answers; and, as +he folded up his manuscripts, he said, with a bright look: +"There, I have not one blank, nor one blot," and, closing +his desk, he prepared to go home. George Adams remained +behind, and Madeline, having something to do, tarried also. +They left the school-room together, and the child, with her +accustomed shrewdness, observed that George avoided her +eye, and passed out without speaking. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning was examination-day—when Roland's turn +came, his manuscripts were nowhere to be found. Diligent +search was made, but in vain. Miss Adams arose and said: +</p> + +<p> +"It is very strange, Roland; no one would take them +from your desk; it looks very much like deception." +</p> + +<p> +Roland's eye flashed, as he replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I wrote them all out, and placed them in my desk, +yesterday afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +In an instant, Madeline Hamilton was on her feet; regardless +of the presence of Mr. Norton, the assistants, and some +of the directors, she exclaimed, as she pointed her finger +towards the guilty boy: +</p> + +<p> +"I saw him open Roland's desk—Roland Bruce is not a +deceiver; there is the deceiver! I know that he was always +jealous of him. I watched him as he passed along the road; +he scattered pieces of paper, I picked them up, there they +are," and she handed them to Mr. Norton. Madeline's cheek +and eye were burning; but fearless, in the defence of her +friend, she thought of no one else. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline has always been the champion of Roland +Bruce," said Miss Adams; "she certainly forgets who he is; +a son of a poor huckster woman, who takes truck to market." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I do not forget, Miss Adams, that he is the brightest +boy in school, has always been a mark to shoot at, and that +there is not one boy in this school, half as wise and good as +Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"Sit down, Madeline," said Mr. Norton; "this matter +shall be looked into." +</p> + +<p> +The excitement had passed, and the little advocate, +over-powered, bowed her head upon her desk, and wept +convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Norton examined the fragments of paper; they were +all proved to be Roland's. George Adams was suspended +for dishonorable practice; and Roland, after another written +examination, promoted to the highest rank in school. A +practical lesson of the truth of that Scripture which declares +that, "He who humbleth himself shall be exalted, and he +that exalteth himself, shall be abased." +</p> + +<p> +"Really," said Lizzie Belton, "I think that Madeline +Hamilton makes a fool of herself by the fuss she makes over +these Bruces; they are well enough in their place, but they +are no companions for me." +</p> + +<p> +Lizzie had not forgotten her rebuff, nor, since that time, +had she made any progress towards intimacy with Madeline +Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +After school, Roland hurried over to Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry that you have made such an enemy, Miss +Madeline; Miss Adams will not forgive you very soon. If +you had only waited until school was out; it was such a +public exposure." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not think of anything, Roland, but two people; I +did not even see any body but Roland Bruce, and that mean, +contemptible George Adams." +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you try to subdue some of your quickness, Miss +Madeline? I fear that it will bring you into trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"There is no use, Roland; I have a hot, quick temper, +and it makes a hasty tongue." +</p> + +<p> +"You are a warm little friend, and I thank you for your +kindness to one so humble as I, for I am nothing but the son +of a very poor woman, who has to struggle hard to find her +children bread." +</p> + +<p> +"Just to think of that Miss Adams, calling your mother, +your good mother, a low huckster woman." +</p> + +<p> +"I know that she is not, and I pitied Miss Adams when +she made such a speech before her scholars; for she hurt +herself more than the did my dear, precious mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't I wish, Roland, that you would live to be a great +man; wouldn't they all be ashamed of themselves?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be troubled, Miss Madeline, I am trying all that +I can to be a learned and good man; and I know that God +will take care of me if I am His child, and I humbly hope +that I am." +</p> + +<p> +"When you are a great man, you shall come right down +here among them, and make grand speeches; and won't I +be glad to see them all bowing to Mr. Roland Bruce, the +poor widow's son." +</p> + +<p> +Roland could not help laughing at the little enthusiast, +for he was but sixteen now, and many a weary year must +pass away, and many rugged hills be scaled, ere he should +figure as a great man among the people of Maple Lane +school. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V. +<br><br> +YOUTHFUL VISIONS. +</h3> + +<p> +A nest of rocks standing out upon the ocean, around +which the waves dash with mournful measure, is one of +the most inviting retreats for the people around Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +On this bright summer afternoon, a beautiful dreamer sits +upon its summit, with eyes turned upward on the rapidly +changing clouds. Ever and anon, a smile passes over the +young face, as some bright thought flits through the +teeming fancy. +</p> + +<p> +"Down, Hector, what is the matter?" said the child; +but the dog continued barking and wagging his tail, as he +ran down the side of the rock, and bounded along the +beach. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline soon saw that her young friend Roland was +coming towards them, with whom Hector was well +acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +"Come up, Roland, it is perfectly splendid," exclaimed +the little girl, and soon she was joined by her young +companion. +</p> + +<p> +"I want you to come and help me watch the clouds. I +don't know if you can see as I do, but there is everything +that is beautiful this afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +"Look there, Roland! see that white-winged angel sailing +along so softly; but it is fading—it is all gone—it +seemed to wave its hand to us, bidding us farewell. Oh! look +there at that group of clouds; there are soldiers, and +banners, and spears flashing—don't you see that flag +waving so grandly? Now just see, Roland, the flag has +turned into a long fish with wings—now don't laugh at me, +Roland." +</p> + +<p> +Roland could not but smile at her wild fancies, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +"I ought not to laugh at you, Miss Madeline, for many +a beautiful picture have I seen on the clouds, and many an +odd one in the winter fire." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't call me Miss Madeline, Roland; we go to the +same school; I am younger than you, and I'm sure that +you are a great deal wiser and better than I. It sounds so +stiff; call me Madeline, or Maddy." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm only a poor boy, very far beneath you, Miss Madeline, +and I don't think I can take the liberty," answered +Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I won't answer you, Roland. If my father is a +rich man, I'm only a little girl." +</p> + +<p> +"Look there, Madeline! that is a very black cloud. I +think that we shall soon have a storm." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not afraid of a storm; I rather like to see the +lightning flash, and to hear the distant thunder; but I don't +much like the thoughts of being wet." +</p> + +<p> +The clouds thickened rapidly; thunder began to rumble +in the distance, and some large drops fell around them. +</p> + +<p> +"Had we not better turn our steps homeward?" asked +Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"I think not," was the quick reply, "I have a fancy for +seeing this storm." +</p> + +<p> +"Is there any shelter, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, there is an old fisherman's hut among the next +nest of rocks. We can go there." +</p> + +<p> +Quickening their pace, Roland took Madeline's hand, and +hurried her rapidly along, for the wind was now blowing +at a fearful rate. +</p> + +<p> +They were soon sheltered in old Peter's cabin, and the +children stood at the door, watching the storm. It was a +grand sight, but not more so than the little enthusiast, who +stood with parted lips, eyes turned upward, and her long +ringlets waving wildly in the wind, gazing entranced on +the war of the elements, and looking the very genius of the +ocean. The waves dashed in foaming spray against the +rocks; the sea gulls in large flocks flew low down, +skimming the white caps of the crested billows, which chased +each other out on the stormy ocean, the birds screaming as +if inspired by the spirit of the storm. The lightning +flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain now fell in +torrents. Poor Hector was sadly frightened, and cowering at +Madeline's feet, continued whining so long as the storm +lasted. +</p> + +<p> +It raged furiously for one hour. When it subsided, the +sun once more appeared in his setting glory, shining on +the still falling rain drops, painting a rainbow on the clouds +which spanned the ocean. Further up the beach, the town +of L—— lay in the sunlight, and reflected on the +window-panes, the whole town glittered as though each house was +decked with diamonds. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline clapped her little hands with delight. "Was +there ever anything so beautiful?" +</p> + +<p> +"Look, Maddy!" said Roland, "at those clouds piled up +so grandly; they look like the snow-clad Alps that hang in +your father's library." +</p> + +<p> +"See how the sun glistens on the top of them, Roland; +it looks just as if the light came right down from the palace +in the skies, and as if the angels stood in crowds on the +mountain tops, looking down upon us." +</p> + +<p> +"We don't know, Maddy, how many of the shining ones +may be there; for the Bible tells us that they are +ministering spirits, sent down to minister to God's people." +</p> + +<p> +"Look, Roland, at that bird; it seems to fly right round +the top of that mountain-cloud. See how its white breast +shines in the sunlight! Did you ever wish you were a +bird? Wouldn't I like to see as much as that bird sees +now, so far above the earth." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you ever see a mountain, Maddy?" inquired Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I have not; I have often looked at papa's pictures, +and wished that I could climb up one of the mountains of +Switzerland." +</p> + +<p> +"I have seen mountains, Maddy, so grand! so dark! so +rugged! I suppose that the mountains of Scotland are +not so beautiful as those of Switzerland; they are so dark +and gloomy, and those deep ravines which lie among them +are so terrible. I have walked there after sunset, and +heard the thunder echoing from cliff to cliff, while the wild +birds screamed as they flew to their mountain eyry." +</p> + +<p> +"Were you not afraid, Roland, to be there all alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"I was not alone, Maddy, my uncle used to take me, +for I was a little boy; but I shall never forget the fear +which I have felt among those heather-clad mountains; I +used to cling so tightly to his hand, for I was filled with +solemn awe." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if I shall ever see a mountain, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I dare say that by-and-bye your father will show you +all these wonders." +</p> + +<p> +"How long since you were in Scotland, Roland?" asked +Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"It is now seven years. My father was a very sad, +strange man, Maddy, and he took a sudden fancy to come +over to America; my mother was a minister's daughter, +her name was Mary Gordon; she lived with my grandfather +at the manse even after she was married." +</p> + +<p> +"What is a manse, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"A manse is a Scotch name for a parsonage; it was a +pleasant little home, situated in a hamlet, at the foot of +the mountains, not far from my grandfather's kirk." +</p> + +<p> +"What is a kirk, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"A kirk is a Scotch name for a church. There was a +lake not far from our house, and many a time did Uncle +Alick take us children out in the boat; sometimes we +would cross the lake, and pay visits to our neighbors. +Once he told me that he was going to show me a place +that I must never forget; he said that we should be gone +all day; so my mother, Effie, Uncle Alick and I started +with our little basket of provisions. We crossed the lake, +and made our way up the sides of the mountain; at length, +we commenced descending, and soon found ourselves in a +thickly shaded glen, covered with a heavy sward of rich +green grass. We stopped under a large old tree, and after +we had been seated awhile in silence, my mother said: +'Roland, do you see that old ruin behind that clump of +trees?' 'I see a pile of stones and an old chimney, +mother,' I replied. 'There lived our ancestor, the old +pastor of Glencoe. His name was David Gordon; he lived +in those dreadful days when men were hunted like wild +beasts for conscience' sake—your great ancestor was a holy +man, and had bound his soul by the solemn "League and +Covenant," not to submit to the tyranny of the English +Church. He was the father of a large family, and was a +faithful shepherd of the flock of Christ. Many a time, +when those bloody troopers were in hot pursuit, did +this aged man of God, at the head of his little flock of +parishioners, sally out at night, marching over the wild +moors and up the steep mountain sides, seeking shelter in +the caves of these old hills.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Who was king then, mother?' I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"'Charles the First; and who, though a good husband +and father, was a bigoted and tyrannical king.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Did he hurt God's people?' I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"'He let his soldiers persecute and kill them. Their +blood cried to Heaven against him, and deeply were they +avenged.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Then I'll never love the Church of England, mother,' +and my little heart burned within me. 'But, mother, you +were going to tell me a story.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Yes, Roland, I want to show you how strong the old +pastor of Glencoe was when called to suffer for God. One +day, his eldest son, Gilbert, had gone away from home on +an errand that would bring him back late in the evening; +and David Gordon, his wife, and granddaughter, Lilian, +were left at home. Suddenly, they heard the sound of +horses' hoofs, and they knew that their day had come. In +a very few minutes, a company of troopers appeared in the +green before the manse; dismounting, they fastened their +horses to the neighboring trees; the captain, entering the +manse, dragged old David Gordon from his study, and bade +him prepare for death. +</p> + +<p> +"'Down on your knees, you old canting hypocrite!' said +the hardened man; 'you have but a minute to prepare for +death.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Just let me hae a few minutes for prayer,' said the +old Christian; and, kneeling down, he raised his eyes to +Heaven, while his white hair floated in the cool breeze, +and ought to have softened the hearts of those cruel men. +</p> + +<p> +"'In another minute his faithful wife, the companion of +fifty years, knelt by his side. +</p> + +<p> +"'I am wi' ye, David, whatever is yer fate; I will be +wi' ye; and the blessed Saviour, who strengthened the +martyr Stephen, will stan' by his weak disciples.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Hold your clatter, you old beldame; see if your God +will come to save you from the bullets when they are +sent.' +</p> + +<p> +"'How lang, O Lord! holy an' true, shall the wicked +triumph?' breathed out old David. 'Wilt thou leave us +forever? hae mercy, O Lord! upon our enemies; turn the +heart o' Charles Stuart to thysel.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Do you dare to speak the name of the king?' shouted +the trooper, at the same time pointing to the band that +stood waiting his orders. +</p> + +<p> +"'Planting themselves opposite to the kneeling pair, they +commenced loading their carbines; and, just as they +prepared to fire, a young creature, not more than sixteen, +rushed from the manse, and throwing herself upon the +bosom of her grandfather, stretched forth one pleading +hand, exclaiming, +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh! spare his grey hairs; he has ne'er harmed ye! he +has done naething but guid a' the days o' his life, an' +if ye kill him, his bluid will call frae the ground against +ye at the judgment-day.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Take her away,' shouted the Captain; 'the old parson +must die.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I will na gae! I will na leave my dear auld grandfather; +an' ye can na hae the heart to kill us a',' answered +Lilian, in her innocent trust. +</p> + +<p> +"'Fire, men!' shouted the Captain, and in another +minute, the sharp report of a dozen guns, echoing through +the glen, sending their deadly bullets among the kneeling +group, released the souls of the aged pastor, his faithful +wife, and sweet Lilian Gordon, covered with the blood of +her aged grand-parents. She lay on the green sward, and +even those fierce soldiers were touched when they looked +at the pale face of the beautiful girl, around which hung +in rich profusion those golden locks, stained with her +life-blood, as it oozed quietly away. +</p> + +<p> +"'She might have gone away,' said one of the troopers; +'we didn't want to kill her or the old woman; it was their +own fault.' +</p> + +<p> +"'All this fearful scene had been witnessed by a faithful +servant, who had hidden herself in a loft, where, trembling +and overpowered with grief, she had seen and heard all. +</p> + +<p> +"'When Gilbert Gordon returned in the evening, what +was his horror to see his father, mother and only daughter +weltering in their blood on the green sward in front of the +manse! +</p> + +<p> +"'With the assistance of a few mourning parishioners, +by the light of the pale moon, they dug a hurried grave, +and after a few words of solemn prayer from the lips of +Gilbert Gordon, they laid away the precious remains of the +martyred dead in hope of a joyful resurrection, placing a +small board to mark the place where they slept; and when +those troubled days were over, an humble tomb-stone +marked the very spot where they lay down their lives for +Jesus. +</p> + +<p> +"'Go, read it, Roland,' said my mother; 'and never +forget that the blood of martyrs flows in your veins. +Always be strong for the right, my son; and remember +that you are a Gordon as well as a Bruce.' +</p> + +<p> +"I read the inscription on the simple tomb-stone, partially +defaced by time; the letters were very faint, but I still +could read: 'The Rev. David Gordon; Janet, his wife; +and his granddaughter, Lilian Gordon; martyred on the +20th day of October, 1643. They sleep in Jesus.' +</p> + +<p> +"Maddy, I have never forgotten that sacred spot; and +so deep was the impression that, boy as I was, I felt as if +my soul grew larger from that day, and as if I would +rather suffer anything than dishonor a name so sacred as +that of Gordon. I remember every word my mother said. +I have thought of the story in the dark hours of the night, +and have prayed that God would give me such a heroic +soul as David Gordon's." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy listened to the recital, and all the deep feelings +of her imaginative nature were stirred to their very depths. +She could never again look upon Roland Gordon Bruce +with any other feelings than those of deepest veneration; +for, boy as he was, and poor as he was, was he not a +descendant of martyrs? and as much of a hero in her +young fancy, as though he had figured himself upon that +bloody sward, and as though, instead of occurring in 1643, +it had been an event of yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +The story had ended—returning to the rock, they took +their seat once more upon its summit. The storm had all +passed away; the gulls were flying to their nests, their +white breasts glistening in the bright sunlight that now +flooded the waters. +</p> + +<p> +"Maddy, I do think that I like storms better than calms. +I like everything that brings the grandeur of God before +me; there is a voice within, Maddy, that answers to the +music of a storm." +</p> + +<p> +"I never could tell just how it was, Roland, but I often +think just as you do, only I never could speak it in words." +</p> + +<p> +"Maddy, our talk to-day has brought back my home in +Scotland; and it makes me feel sad to think that I am so +far away from the land that I love. You ought to hear +some of our music, it is so beautiful." +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you sing me one of the songs that you like, +Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Will you try to sing one with me, Maddy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I would if I only knew one." +</p> + +<p> +"I will teach you one, Maddy, if you will try-.—I know +that you will like it;" and Roland dictated the words of +the following Scotch song: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Scots, wha hae wi Wallace bled!<br> + Scots, wham Bruce has often led!<br> + Welcome to your gory bed,<br> + Or to victorie!<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Now's the day, and now's the hour:<br> + See the front of battle lour:<br> + See approach proud Edward's power—<br> + Chains and slaverie!<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Wha will be a traitor knave?<br> + Wha can fill a coward's grave?<br> + Wha sae base as be a slave?<br> + Let him turn and flee!" &c.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI. +<br><br> +A SCOTCH MATRON. +</h3> + +<p> +Mrs. Bruce had seen many sorrows. She had married +Stephen Bruce chiefly to please her father. +</p> + +<p> +Early in life she had been betrothed to Malcolm Graham, +a young man of excellent character, who dearly loved +sweet Mary Gordon. She had another suitor, Stephen +Bruce, the son of her father's most intimate friend; this +was the one preferred by her parent. +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm went to sea; the vessel foundered, and his +name was among the missing. Mary pined away for two +years in sadness and sorrow; at length, to please her +father, she accepted the hand of Stephen Bruce, and made +him a faithful wife. +</p> + +<p> +When Roland was about one year old, one stormy +winter evening, Mary was rocking her child to sleep, +singing a sweet cradle hymn, when the door of the manse +opened suddenly, and Malcolm Graham, her early lover, +stood before her. A scene of agony passed—they parted +in sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +Stephen Bruce, on discovering that Malcolm was still +alive, became morose, jealous, and at last unkind. After +the birth of Effie, he suddenly embarked for America, +where he lived with his family for several years. At +length, he returned to Scotland on business; the vessel +in which he sailed for America was wrecked, and nothing +was ever heard of Stephen Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +In Mrs. Bruce's neighborhood lived a strange woman, +named Elsie Gibson, a Scotch woman, who had also lived +several years in America. +</p> + +<p> +She was a frequent visitor at the widow's cottage, and +exhibited a mysterious interest in all their affairs. Soon +after the wreck of the vessel in which Stephen had sailed, +she presented herself at the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +"I came to ask for the bairns, Mrs. Bruce," said Elsie. +"We are baith Scotch people, and I kenned aboot the +Gordons in the auld country. Dinna think me officious; +are the bairns weel provided for?" +</p> + +<p> +"Stephen had a good support, Elsie, but it will be some +time before I can hear from home; then I shall know what +is to be done." +</p> + +<p> +Elsie was a strange, solitary woman, associating with +no one but Mary Bruce. Sometimes they would miss her +from the neighborhood for weeks, then suddenly she would +make her appearance, always exhibiting the same interest +in the Bruce family. +</p> + +<p> +In about four months after Stephen's disappearance, a +package, directed to Mrs. Bruce in an unknown hand, was +left at the cottage door by a little boy, who as quickly +disappeared. It was found to contain fifty pounds, saying +that the same would come quarterly from her husband's +estate. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bruce was amazed. How could it have come to +her? Why did she not receive letters from Scotland? It +was evidently not a foreign letter. She could not fathom +the mystery. On the following day Elsie paid her +accustomed visit. +</p> + +<p> +"How fare the bairns, Mrs. Bruce? Where is Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +When he stepped forward, Elsie laid her hand upon his +head and said, with deep emotion, +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you, my bairn, ye're the vera image o' yer +father." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you know my father, Elsie?" asked the boy, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +Elsie seemed to recover herself in a minute, and replied, +coldly, "I hae seen him, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +This time her visit was a short one, and, as she left the +house, Mrs. Bruce said to her children, "Elsie is a strange +woman; I wonder what makes her think so much of us?" +</p> + +<p> +Next evening she called again. They were all seated in +the little porch enjoying the cool evening air. +</p> + +<p> +"There, mother!" said Effie, "is the boy that brought +the package." +</p> + +<p> +"What package?" asked Elsie. +</p> + +<p> +"A strange thing happened day before yesterday, Elsie. +A little boy called towards evening and left a note, in an +unknown hand, enclosing a remittance of fifty pounds from +my husband's estate." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was by this time running after the boy, calling +to him to stop; but he was too quick, and disappeared in +the woods close by. +</p> + +<p> +Elsie looked pleased and said, +</p> + +<p> +"I ween that Roland will na catch the lad, he is a swift +little hare-foot." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, do you know who he is?" asked Mrs. Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +"I dinna say sae, Mrs. Bruce." +</p> + +<p> +Elsie arose hastily and took her leave. +</p> + +<p> +For several years the same mysterious notes came +quarterly, but at last they entirely ceased. Elsie Gibson +had been absent for months, and the family were wondering +what had become of their old friend, when, one evening, +Roland spied the same tartan plaid which Elsie always +wore, and which distinguished her from all her neighbors. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother, I do believe that Elsie Gibson is coming up +the lane," exclaimed Roland, and in a few minutes she +opened the door and walked in. +</p> + +<p> +Elsie looked sad and careworn. "I maun sit me doon, +Mrs. Bruce, for I'm a weary body this cauld night," and she +took her seat near the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Where have you been so long, Elsie?" asked Mrs. Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +"I hae been far awa', tending on a sick friend; but he's +better now—that is, better in body, but sore stricken in +mind." +</p> + +<p> +"I have had trouble too, Elsie, since we parted. My +quarterly allowance has all stopped, and I must look around +for means of support." +</p> + +<p> +Elsie looked concerned; a deeper shade passed over her +pale features as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Great changes hae come owre me, Mary, that is, Mrs. Bruce. +I too hae lost the wee bit o' money that I had, and +I maun gang out to service." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, Elsie, but I hope you know the blessedness +of looking up in the midst of all the sorrows of this life; +if we have a home above, we need not mind the trials of +the way, they will be very short compared to the rest +beyond." +</p> + +<p> +"Sometimes, Mrs. Bruce, I lose sight of the promises, +and gang doon into the 'Slough of Despair;' then the +burden is a heavy load to carry. But there is a storm +brewing, and I maun hurry awa'." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bruce helped her on with her tartan, shook her +hand warmly, and bade her look up in the midst of darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"Guid-night, Mrs. Bruce; may the guid Lord guide and +keep us a', and prosper his poor servant in her new home; +it will na tak meikle to find my claithes, and the rest shall +go to ane I luve weel; that is blessed wark, Mrs. Bruce, a' +my puir life is spent for that." +</p> + +<p> +Roland walked with Elsie to the turn of the lane, and +as she bade him "guid night," she added, "I shall always +luve ye weel, Roland, for the sake o' ane that's awa'." +</p> + +<p> +Roland returned wondering how it was that they seemed +to constantly connected with Elsie Gibson—some mysterious +links which he could not trace, certainly bound them +together. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time Elsie obtained a good place, but with the +condition that once a month she was allowed to be absent +for one day, returning the next; and thus she had continued +for several years, until we bring Madeline acquainted +with the Bruce family. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Mrs. Bruce; you are always so busy; +don't you get tired of working all the time?" asked +Madeline, as she entered the humble cottage. +</p> + +<p> +"It is better, Miss Madeline, to have too much to do, +than too little. I am never so happy as when I am fully +occupied; and then I am working for my children, and that +is always cheerful work." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked around the humble room, and thought +how neat everything looked. True, there was a rag-carpet +on the floor, but the simple furniture was well kept; the +tins, bright as silver, hung upon the wall, the family work +was all done, and Mrs. Bruce and Effie were busy with +their needles. +</p> + +<p> +Effie was a mild, gentle girl, with a pale complexion, +light hair, and very soft blue eyes, resembling her mother, +only not so lovely as Mrs. Bruce had been in her youthful +days. It was her delight to lessen her mother's cares, for +she had a heavy burden to carry; but the devotion and +love of her children was a sweet cordial to an aching heart. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline sat down on a low chair by the side of Mrs. Bruce, +and throwing off her flat, opened a little basket +which she had brought with her. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope you will not be offended, Mrs. Bruce, but I've +brought you some very nice tea and coffee that papa has +just received from Boston; there is some white sugar, and +some rice, too. I hardly knew how to bring it, for you are +not like the other people that live in the cottages round +here; but I hope that you will not be hurt at me; we have +so much, and I know that you have so little." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bruce dropped her head lower down to hide the +tears that would start as she replied, "We Scotch people +have a great horror, my dear, of receiving anything but +what we work for; but I'll take the little gift to please you, +Miss Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"I am so glad, for I was so afraid that I was not doing +exactly what would please you, that I really trembled when +I got to the door. I don't know how it is, but from the +first day that I saw Roland on the shore, I knew that he +was not a common boy." +</p> + +<p> +Hanging between the windows was a small portrait of a +venerable man. +</p> + +<p> +"Whose likeness is that, Mrs. Bruce?" asked the child. +</p> + +<p> +"That is my father's picture. He was the minister of +the parish where we lived. He was a good man, Miss +Madeline, but he is now among the spirits of the just made +perfect." +</p> + +<p> +"How is it, Mrs. Bruce, that you and Roland seem to +think so much of the world to come? I never used to +hear anybody talk about it until I met you." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, my dear child, what should I do with all my +cares and sorrows, if I had no hope of a better life than +this?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want any better world, Mrs. Bruce. I have +everything that I wish, and more too. This world is very +beautiful to me; I should not like to leave it and go down +into the dark grave." +</p> + +<p> +"That is the natural feeling of a young heart, Miss +Madeline, but the day will come when you cannot live +without such a hope." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't have many cares, Mrs. Bruce," said Maddy, +with a mischievous twinkle of her eye. "I am puzzled a +little about the pattern of my doll's bonnet, but the greatest +trouble just now is, that papa has brought down a French +governess to teach me French and music. That is not very +pleasant, for it takes so much of my time out of school that +I get tired to death." +</p> + +<p> +"You ought to be very thankful, Miss Madeline, to your +father for all his kindness and care. I hope that you will +improve your time diligently." +</p> + +<p> +"You ought just to see Mademoiselle Fouladoux; she is +such a queer little person. I tell you that I have fun with +her; she speaks broken English, and makes such odd faces +when she talks. She has a little lap-dog named Fanfan; +she makes as much fuss with her as if she were a child—nasty, +cross little thing it is! She must have sponge-cake +and cream twice a day. I tell you, Mrs. Bruce, our cook +gets mad enough. I wish the little cur was in the ocean. +What do you think? she sleeps in the bed with Mademoiselle! +Just think of that! a dog in the same bed with a +lady!" and Madeline threw herself back, and laughed +heartily at the thought. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope you do not tease Mademoiselle, Miss +Madeline?" answered Mrs. Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +"Tease Mademoiselle! Not much!" answered the child, +with a roguish smile upon her dimpled face. "Only when +she gives me a hard lesson, I give her a hard one back by +pulling Fanfan's tail, or boxing her ears slily; and then +Mademoiselle rolls up her eyes, and cries out, 'Oh! ma +petite mignon, ma pauvre petite Fanfan!' and then she +takes up the horrid thing, with its sore eyes, and kisses it. +Just think of kissing a lap-dog." +</p> + +<p> +"Try to be a good girl, Miss Madeline; it is a hard task +for a young lady that has a good home to go out to teach. +If you'll only think of that, I am sure that you will be kind +to Mademoiselle!" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not a good girl, Mrs. Bruce. I'm not used to +thinking whether a thing is right or wrong; nobody ever +said much to me about it but Roland. I am sorry to be +bad when it grieves Roland, for he is such a good boy. I +do believe that he is a Christian. Where is he to-day, +Mrs. Bruce?" +</p> + +<p> +"He has gone to market with the vegetables; he always +goes on Saturday, for he saves his mother all the labor that +he can." +</p> + +<p> +"How does he go? Has he a little cart?" asked Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"One of the neighbors lends him an old cart and horse, +that is too old to be used by the family; but it makes +Roland feel badly, because he is afraid that the poor horse +is too old to work." +</p> + +<p> +"Is that all you have to live on, Mrs. Bruce?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, my dear, I sew and knit for several of the neighbors." +</p> + +<p> +"I think we can send you some work. Aunt Matilda +often wants some one to do plain sewing." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bruce loved the warm-hearted little girl, and pitied +her motherless condition. She saw countless weeds springing +up in the heart of the child, and resolved to try to +scatter seeds of truth around her. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you making, Effie?" inquired Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"I am making a shirt for George Belton, Miss Madeline. +I made two last week." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, how in the world did you do that, Effie? go to +school every day, learn your lessons, and make two shirts!" +</p> + +<p> +"I rise very early in the morning, and sew two hours +before school; I study as much as I can in school; and I +sew all my leisure time." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what makes you look so pale, Effie; what a pity +that you have to work so hard!" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't feel it, Miss Madeline; my mother has been so +good and kind to me, that I am only too glad to help her +now." And Effie's blue eyes were turned upon her +mother's face, with a look full of filial love. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I must go now. I learn good lessons here, +Mrs. Bruce; you'll let me come and see you often—may I?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are always welcome, Miss Madeline, for I love +you for your goodness to my dear children." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, ma'am;" and Madeline Hamilton touched +the hand of Mrs. Bruce with more real respect, than she +felt for most of the circle of rich friends who visited at +Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda, don't you want some plain sewing +done?" said Maddy, as soon as she entered the house, for +her little brain was teeming with plans of how she might +do good to the Bruce family. +</p> + +<p> +"I think we do," was the answer. "I want some bed +linen made up; our stock is getting low, and I was +wondering whom I would get to do the work." +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Bruce will do it, aunty; she is such a nice woman, +and such a good sewer; and then she is so good, and so +poor." +</p> + +<p> +"You may tell her, Madeline, to come up to-morrow, or +next day; the work is all cut out; I should like her to +have it." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy hurried off early in the morning on her errand of +love, tripped in so merrily, regardless of the dew upon +the grass, so eager was she to carry good news. Roland +was at home, and met Madeline with a respectful manner +that seemed very cold to our little girl. Handing her the +best chair, he bade her sit down, for this was the first time +that he had ever welcomed her to his bumble home. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda wants you, Mrs. Bruce, to send for the +work to-day; she has it all cut out, and wants you to do +it all." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll come up for it, Miss Madeline," answered Roland; +"we are so much obliged to you for your goodness." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy began to laugh. "I thought, Roland, that we +made a bargain a little while ago; have you forgotten that +you were to call me Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think that it would be very proper for one who +comes to your house to get work for his mother, to take +such a liberty with the heiress of Woodcliff." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Mrs. Bruce," said the child, and away she ran. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother, I cannot bear to see you work so hard," said +Roland; "and then dear Effie looks so pale, her step is so +languid. Try, mother, to look up to Heaven, hoping and +trusting; but everything looks so dark around us." +</p> + +<p> +"You must not say so, my son; the promises of God +are 'yea and amen in Christ Jesus;' we believe that we +are his children;' 'all things shall work together for good to +those who love God;' let us keep our eyes upward, my +dear boy; God is there, Roland—Jesus is there—our home +is there." +</p> + +<p> +"There is not much for us here, dear mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't forget, my son, the blood that flows in your +veins, the blood of Christian heroes; do not be unworthy +of them, Roland. I gave you to God as soon as you were +born, my child; I have trained you for Him; He has +work for you, my son—I am certain of that. Just trust +Him; look upward, Roland, and you will see everything +that is noble and holy. Don't keep your eyes upon the +earth; that will draw your soul downward. There is a +great deal to live for, Roland; God will lead you to some +high and holy destiny, if you will only trust Him." +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,<br> + But trust him for his grace;<br> + Behind a frowning Providence,<br> + He hides a smiling face."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"You have cheered me, dear mother; what should I do +without you?" answered the boy. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, Roland went to Woodcliff for the +work. Madeline was not at home, and Roland was not +sorry; for he felt that it was humbling to be there on such +an errand. The feeling was a wrong one, but Roland was +a proud boy, though a poor one. There was no little +confusion in his soul on that day. He was performing a +filial duty, that he knew; he was doing nothing that he +ought to be ashamed of, and yet the pride of his heart did +rise up against the humiliation of menial service, in the +sight of Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +Not far from Roland's home lay the village church-yard, +whither the inhabitants of the country around often +resorted. It was a charming spot, beautifully kept, and +adorned with shrubbery, fine trees, and a variety of exquisite +flowers. Many of Mrs. Bruce's lessons to her children +were taught in that rural cemetery on Sunday evening, after +the services of the day were over. +</p> + +<p> +On the following Sunday, Roland strayed thither alone. +He had not been there long, before Madeline entered, with +Hector for her only companion. Roland joined the child. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a beautiful place, Miss Madeline," remarked the +boy. +</p> + +<p> +Maddy put her fingers on her lips with rather an arch +expression, as she said: +</p> + +<p> +"I will not talk to you, if you call me Miss." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled, and continued, "Very well then, I +suppose that it must be Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"Come with me, Roland; I want to show you my +mother's grave," and Madeline led her companion to a +secluded corner of the cemetery, where stood a splendid +monument, on which was inscribed, "Sacred to the memory +of Julia, the beloved wife of Lewis Hamilton, who departed +this life June 16th, 1837." The enclosure was beautifully +laid out and adorned with choice flowers, and over the +monument bent the branches of a noble tree. +</p> + +<p> +"Was your mother a Christian, Madeline?" asked the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know, Roland; I was too young to remember +anything; I hope that she was." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you ever think of dying, Madeline?" asked her +friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Not often, Roland; it is too dreadful to think of the +dark and gloomy grave. I would rather think of living, +Roland, in this bright world." +</p> + +<p> +"Mother never lets me call it gloomy, Maddy; she says +that it is only the gate which opens into heaven; and +since Jesus hath lain there himself, she says that none +who believe in him need be afraid." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you believe in him, Roland?" asked the child. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Maddy, I do with all my heart, and love him, +too; and all I want is to serve him here on earth, and live +with him forever." +</p> + +<p> +"How long, Roland, is it since you have thought about +these good things?" asked the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Ever since I was a very little boy, Maddy. I remember +when I was so small that I could scarcely talk plain, +that my mother used to lay her hand upon my head, and +ask the dear Saviour to bless her boy. Then, when I was +older, she used to take me every night to bed, and that +was the time when she led my young heart up to Heaven. +She has had many trials, Maddy; but she is always happy, +for she is always looking up, and she tries to make me just +as hopeful." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish that I had such a mother, Roland; nobody +ever talks so to me. Aunt Matilda taught me the catechism +and the creed, but it was just like saying parrot +words; I do not know what they mean. I believe in +Jesus, but not the way you do. I believe more in Roland, +I think!" and the child smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Why; what do you mean, Maddy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why when I want to do something wrong, I don't +ask, how would Jesus like it; but I often ask, how would +Roland like it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Just pray, Maddy, every night, 'Open thou mine eyes,' +and 'Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.'" +</p> + +<p> +"What is that rock, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"That rock is Christ, Maddy; if we keep our hearts +fixed on him, we shall walk in the blessed way safely." +</p> + +<p> +While talking thus, Elsie Gibson joined them. +</p> + +<p> +"What are ye talking aboot, children?" asked the +woman. +</p> + +<p> +"Roland was showing me how to find the blessed way, +Elsie." +</p> + +<p> +"He can lead you, Miss Madeline; he has a holy +mother, he is a chiel o' prayer; and his ancestors were +maist o' them holy men. In the bloody days that tried +men's souls, Roland's race was foremost in bearing their +testimony to gospel truth." +</p> + +<p> +"You like Roland, Elsie, don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my little bairn, I luve him for his ain, and for his +father's sake. I kenned his father, Miss Madeline, when +I wore the snood o' a Scottish maiden." +</p> + +<p> +"Wasn't his father a relation of the great Bruce, Elsie? +I have often thought so, but Roland laughs at me." +</p> + +<p> +"I dinna ken, Miss Madeline, for ye ken that was mony +years syne, and we canna find kinship back so far awa'." +</p> + +<p> +"Elsie, is Roland's father really dead? sometimes I +think that he may be alive yet;" asked the child suddenly, +fixing an earnest look upon Elsie Gibson's face. +</p> + +<p> +The question was evidently unexpected, but after a +moment's silence, Elsie replied: +</p> + +<p> +"The vessel was lost, Madeline, and it has aye been +said that ilka soul went doon." +</p> + +<p> +The shadows of the setting sun were deepening, and +Maddy, Roland, and Elsie walked together to the widow's +cottage. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bruce invited Maddy in. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you take a seat among us this evening, Madeline? +It is the time of our family worship." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy sat down on a low chair by the side of Mrs. Bruce, +much sobered by the conversation in the cemetery. +</p> + +<p> +Reverently the mother read the sacred volume, and +after singing a Sabbath evening hymn, in the words of +solemn prayer, she addressed the throne of grace, +commending all her dear ones to the care of the Good +Shepherd, not forgetting the little girl who knelt with the +humble family around that altar of domestic piety. It +was the first time that Madeline had ever joined in such +an exercise, and she was deeply impressed by the sweet +and soothing worship. +</p> + +<p> +It was so different from her own domestic circle, that +Madeline could not but muse deeply on her way home; +and, unconsciously to herself, from this moment really +commenced the germ of that life which, though smothered +for awhile, still the seed, perhaps smaller than the grain +of mustard seed, was planted, which would hereafter lead +the warm young soul upward, heavenward. Ever looking +aloft was the load-star at the widow's cottage, around +which revolved all their plans, all their hopes. Perhaps +wild little Mad-cap, attracted by the same power, may +also learn to look aloft from even the dangerous heights +of Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +Effie's feeble health called for many little comforts which +Mrs. Bruce could not afford; but ever and anon the tripping +feet of Madeline Hamilton, or a basket of delicacies +brought by Nanny, made large demands upon the gratitude +of the widow's family. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't thank me, Mrs. Bruce," Maddy would often say; +"Roland is so good to me, is so kind at school, and teaches +me so much, that I cannot feel that I ever do enough in +return for you." +</p> + +<p> +It was, indeed, a strange sight to behold this little girl, +usually so ungovernable, yielding to the slightest check +from Roland; for she really respected the boy, who carried +out his principles. +</p> + +<p> +Occasionally her wild spirits would burst forth, and an +innate love of teasing led her to play jokes, even upon her +friend Roland. Fear of ridicule was his weakness; he +could not bear to be laughed at; he was almost ashamed +to own it, but it was really a fact. Brave in other respects, +he was really a coward here, and Maddy discovered it. +</p> + +<p> +Woe to Roland, when her mischievous fits were upon her! +</p> + +<p> +"Who is there, Nanny?" asked the child, perceiving that +some one was in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +"A boy wants to see you, Miss Madeline; he has something +for you." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Roland, is it you? come into the parlor." +</p> + +<p> +Nanny looked surprised, but Roland stepped in, and, +taking off his cap, seated himself respectfully. He looked +as if he really belonged to the parlor of Woodcliff; his +whole bearing was so manly and self-possessed. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, I have something for you. You know how +often we have admired the sea-weed together; for a long +time I have been gathering the most beautiful specimens +that I could find, and mother has been drying it, and +together we have arranged it in a book." +</p> + +<p> +Roland opened the pages, and Madeline's joy was unbounded. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, how beautiful! How did you ever do it, Roland? +They look like the most lovely flowers. Stop, Roland! I'll +get our microscope," and away she flew. +</p> + +<p> +"Look! Roland, look! I never saw anything so sweet. +It is the most charming present I ever had in all my life." +</p> + +<p> +"I have some shells too, Madeline, but they are not very +rare; but such as I could gather I have brought. I am so +glad that you are pleased." +</p> + +<p> +"I have nothing that I shall think so much of as these. +Your dear, kind mother, with all her cares, could remember +little Mad-cap; and, Roland, it was so sweet to bring me +just what I admire so much. I shall keep them all the +days of my life, to remember Roland and his mother." +</p> + +<p> +It was really an exquisite little book, arranged with the +most delicate taste, and when Aunt Matilda was called in +to see the gift, she was quite struck with the evidences of +refinement visible in every page of these beautiful sea-weeds. +</p> + +<p> +"I have something else, Madeline," and Roland brought +out a tasty little moss basket, the gift of dear Effie. +</p> + +<p> +That evening found Madeline running down to the +widow's cottage to thank her for the gift. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, dear, darling Mrs. Bruce, for your beautiful +present," exclaimed the impulsive child, throwing her arms +around her, and showering kisses upon her pale face. "I +shall keep it as long as I live, for I have nothing that I +shall value like these beautiful weeds." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad that you are pleased, Madeline; it made us +so happy to arrange them for you." +</p> + +<p> +"How could you find time to think of little Mad-cap, with +all your cares and troubles, dear Mrs. Bruce?" +</p> + +<p> +"How could you, Miss Madeline, surrounded by all the +elegance of Woodcliff, find time to think of us in our humble +cottage?" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VII. +<br><br> +THE COTTAGE AND THE HALL. +</h3> + +<p> +There are sorer battles than those waged on the field +of strife, where the old and the new man contend in a +human heart; and such had Roland fought on the morning +of this day. He thought that he had conquered, and with +a brave spirit and cheerful countenance, he started for +Woodcliff with the bundle of work which his mother had +completed. When he came in sight of the Hall his courage +began to fail, for on the porch were several of Madeline's +young acquaintances. Roland recognized Mary James, +Minnie Scott, and Ella Taylor, all schoolmates, but who +had little to do with the Bruces. +</p> + +<p> +"What ails me?" said Roland to himself; "is it possible +that I am so wanting in manliness, as to fear the ridicule +of those silly girls? Down at once with the feeling; +poverty is nothing to be ashamed of;" and Roland hastened +on with a firm step and head erect. +</p> + +<p> +"You seem to have a heavy load, Roland," said Mary +James; "have you garden truck in your basket?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Miss; I do not carry my vegetables around, we +sell them in market." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps you are coming for old clothes, Roland; you +look as if you wanted some," remarked Minnie Scott. +</p> + +<p> +"If you'll come round to our house, we can give you +some," sneered Mary James. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Roland was sorely tried; his clothes were very +shabby, for it had been a long time since his mother had +been able to buy him any—patched pantaloons and worn-out +shoes indicated his poverty. His cheeks were crimson, +and his eyes flashed indignation, but he took no farther +notice of the insulting remarks, or of the titter which +passed round among the girls. +</p> + +<p> +"For shame, Mary!" exclaimed Madeline; "have you +no feeling? Roland is my friend, and shall be respected +here." +</p> + +<p> +By this time the boy had advanced to the piazza, and +Madeline called for Nanny to come and take the bundles +which he had brought. Madeline then invited him into +the house, and with real delicacy of feeling, made no farther +allusion to the insolence of the children. They entered the +drawing-room where Aunt Matilda was seated. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunty, this is my friend, Roland Bruce; he has brought +the work home." +</p> + +<p> +She bowed stiffly. "Could you not have taken the boy +into the sitting-room, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"If those upstarts had not insulted him, perhaps I might +have done so; but, as it is, I prefer to bring him here." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was by this time fully roused. She could not +endure that a boy of Roland's character should be first +insulted by her friends, and then by her aunt. Turning to +the latter, she said, "Will you please, ma'am, to entertain +the young ladies while I shall be engaged with Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Which are your guests, Maddy, this boy, or the young +ladies who have come to visit you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Just now this is my guest, Aunt Matilda. There is no +use of arguing with me," and with a proud toss of her +brown ringlets, she turned to the boy who stood a silent +listener. +</p> + +<p> +"Come with me, Roland, I have many things to show +you," and Madeline led the way, while Roland followed, +by no means abashed by the magnificence which everywhere +surrounded the young heiress—velvet carpets, lace +curtains, rich furniture, splendid paintings, &c., had no +effect upon the manly boy, who, with a proud step and +dignified carriage, followed his friend. +</p> + +<p> +First she led him to the library. "I want you to look +around, Roland, at the books; here is where I like to come +on stormy days, when the wind is howling around. Many +an hour I've spent in this room." +</p> + +<p> +Roland looked around delighted; he had never seen so +many books together before. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Madeline, I should never want any other friends. +Here are Cowper, and Milton, and Shakspeare, and our +own Burns—and all these books of history. You ought to +be a very wise little girl." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know that, Roland; but I have not read the +useful books; I read novels, and fairy tales, and all kinds +of poetry, and aunty says they fill my head with nonsense. +Would you like to read some of these books, Roland? for +I have only to say so to papa, and he would lend them to +please me." +</p> + +<p> +"I could hardly ask such a thing, Madeline, but if he +will, I promise to take good care of them, and to keep them +covered." +</p> + +<p> +Out of the library into the conservatory, Madeline +conducted her friend. Here again Roland was delighted, for +dearly did he love flowers and all beautiful things. +</p> + +<p> +"How happy you ought to be, Madeline, with such a +world of beauty all around you." +</p> + +<p> +"Which of these flowers would you rather take home, +Roland?" asked the child. +</p> + +<p> +His eye roved hastily around, and rested with a smile +upon a simple purple flower, as he said, "That little +mountain heather." +</p> + +<p> +"What! pass by these lovely roses, and take that little +flower!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Madeline, I love it best; it is our own Scotch +flower, and grows all over our dark mountains." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall have a plant to take home to your mother, +Roland." +</p> + +<p> +Next she led him up a long staircase and directed him to +stand still at the head of the first landing; leading him to +the window, she said, "Hark! Roland, do you hear any +music?" +</p> + +<p> +Roland stood entranced as he listened to the low, plaintive +strains that came swelling over the strings of an +Eolian harp, and as the breeze rose higher, louder, wilder, +fuller swept the weird sounds among the strings. +</p> + +<p> +"How beautiful, Madeline!" exclaimed the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"That's what I call the fairies' concert, Roland; on wild +winter nights you cannot imagine what that music is +like—it puts me in mind of Ossian's poetry." +</p> + +<p> +Down the stair-case and out among her pets, next we +find our little girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Here are my pet doves, Roland; Patty and Jim; they +know me now, and always begin to coo when I come near +them. And here is my canary—but I want you to see +Bob," and out into the stable-yard trotted Maddy and ran +up to a donkey that stood nibbling away at some grass. +She patted him on the head, and Bob made a singular +noise to show his pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +Roland attempted the same liberty, but in a minute, +Master Bob kicked up his hind legs, and set up a hideous +bray. +</p> + +<p> +Maddy laughed heartily, and said, "Bob don't like +strangers, Roland; but that's the most harm that he ever +does." +</p> + +<p> +"They are useful animals, Madeline. I have often +thought that it would be such a treasure if I had a cart and +donkey; but that I cannot get, for we are too poor." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy smiled with a knowing look as she conducted her +favorite back into the drawing-room, and, finding the coast +clear, she described the pictures to Roland, and then sat +down to the piano, and played and sang sweetly, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "I remember, I remember<br> + The house where I was born—<br> + The little window where the sun<br> + Came peeping in at morn;<br> + He never came a wink too soon,<br> + Nor brought too long a day;<br> + But now I often wish the night<br> + Had borne my breath away."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"I am much obliged to you, Maddy, for your kindness, +but I really must go now; I have kept you long enough +from your friends," and Roland took up his pot of heather +to go home. +</p> + +<p> +"Friends, indeed! Fudge upon such friends! They +have no sense, and I don't care for one of them." +</p> + +<p> +Just then, Mademoiselle put her head into the drawing-room +door. "Oh! Mademoiselle Madeline, que fait vous? +vous êtes trés impolie, voila vos jeunes amis, et vous êtes ici +avec ce pauvre garçon." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not faint, Mademoiselle, I know what I am about." +</p> + +<p> +"Que dira Mr. H.? Lui qui est si Monsieur. J'ai peur +que tu ne seras jamais une dame; vous êtes impolie, M'lle. +Venez avec moi!" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline burst out laughing, and whispered to Roland, +"She is a poor simple thing; I can't help laughing at her." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't, Maddy; she is your teacher, and therefore ought +to be respected." +</p> + +<p> +"That will do for good people like you; Roland, I can't +be so good." +</p> + +<p> +By this time they had left the piazza, and Madeline +conducted Roland out to the gate, passing Aunt Matilda and +the young ladies in the avenue. He raised his cap and +bowed gracefully as he took his leave. "Good evening, +Miss Hamilton, I am sorry to have intruded so long." +</p> + +<p> +"Good evening, sir," replied the lady haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +"Where in the world did he learn to make such a bow +as that?" said Mary James. +</p> + +<p> +"He was born a gentleman," answered Madeline, "and +if he were clad in rags, he would carry the same manners +everywhere." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't talk such folly, Madeline," said her aunt; "Roland +is well enough, but he is not a gentleman, nor the son +of a gentleman, and no associate for Madeline Hamilton. +You make a dunce of yourself, in the way that you behave +to these people." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps so, aunty; but I shall never forget that I am +a lady to every one." +</p> + +<p> +"You forgot it, Maddy, this afternoon, when you left +your young friends, to entertain that boy." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline blushed as she replied, "They were so rude, +aunty, that I could do nothing else." +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline has a remarkable taste," said Ella Taylor; +"Roland and Effie Bruce are her chief companions at +school." +</p> + +<p> +"I choose them for their worth, and because all the rest +treat them badly," answered Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we will not talk any more about it now," said +Aunt Matilda; "Maddy always has her own way, and +there is no use of crossing her while Lewis Hamilton is +master." +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Papa, do you care much about my donkey?" said +Maddy that evening to her father. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Mad-cap, what makes you ask that question?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because I am tired of riding about with Bob. It has +been several months since I drove him, papa, and I thought +that we could put him to such good use now." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what do you want to do with poor Bob, Maddy?" +</p> + +<p> +"It would be such a nice little animal for Mrs. Bruce, +papa. Here, we only keep him for amusement, there, he +would be so useful. They have to borrow a crazy old cart, +and a broken down horse every week to go to market, +and if they only had a little cart, Bob could take their +vegetables to market. Shan't I give him to Mrs. Bruce, +papa?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Mad-cap, I believe that you would give your +head away if it were loose; you may do what you please +with poor Bob; but what about the cart?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, papa, there's a little cart that he used to drag +sometimes; we don't use it now." +</p> + +<p> +"Do what you choose, Maddy; it would be a good +thing for the widow." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy did not wait a second bidding. Accordingly, on +the next Friday afternoon, Bob was geared up to the little +cart, and Maddy took her seat, full of glee. He was a +perfectly safe animal, and our little girl had driven him +many a time around the lanes of Woodcliff. Madeline +drew up to the door of the widow's cottage with a +laughing countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Roland and Effie, I want to take you a ride this +afternoon; jump in; I want to see if you can drive Bob, +Roland." +</p> + +<p> +They were soon seated in the little cart. Bob was +rather restive at first, for he soon recognized the voice of +a stranger; but with Madeline's coaxing, they proceeded +very well, and had a merry ride. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I drive you home, Madeline?" asked Roland, +after Effie had dismounted at the cottage-door. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I believe not, Roland; Bob may as well stay here, +for cart and donkey are both yours." +</p> + +<p> +"It cannot be, Miss Madeline; the gift is too costly." +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Madeline! here comes Roland's pride again!" +answered the child. "Bob is of no use to us now; I am +tired of driving him about, and he's just the animal for +you, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"What a good little friend your are, Maddy! You are +just like some kind fairy." +</p> + +<p> +"What a good boy you are, Roland! You are just like +some grown-up friend; so you see we are about even after +all. I can give you what money can buy, and what will +soon be gone; and you give me light, knowledge, strength, +goodness, Roland, and that money cannot buy; so you +see at last I can make it out that your gifts are better than +mine." +</p> + +<p> +This was an invaluable gift to our young friend, for it +enabled him to go regularly to market without borrowing +from his neighbors; and it made Madeline very happy to +see the sunshine which she had carried to the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +Effie was a gentle girl, and all that she could do to show +her gratitude, was to raise her soft blue eyes to Maddy's +face with speechless thanks, and to press her hand as they +passed into the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +"May the good Lord bless you, Miss Madeline, for all +your goodness," was the spoken gratitude of Mrs. Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +"It is getting late now, good-bye; I hope that Bob +won't be running away to his old stable; give him plenty +of cabbage or turnip-tops;" and, with this injunction, away +scampered the child, happier than she had ever been in all +her life before. +</p> + +<p> +Maddy was nearly right when she said, "we are about +even after all," for the influence brought to bear so +unconsciously upon her by this humble family, was of a +character that could not well be measured. +</p> + +<p> +It was a true remark which, in her simplicity, she had +uttered, when she said, "I believe in Roland." A word +from him was of more avail than aught else, in checking her +impulsive actions. +</p> + +<p> +On the next Sunday morning, as Roland and Effie were +on their way to the Sunday-school, whom should they see, +smiling at them from the carriage window, but Madeline, +who was riding out with her Aunt Matilda. Roland hoped +that they were going to church; but he had some doubts, +for he had seldom heard the child speak about the house +of God. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening they met at the cemetery, for it was a +common thing for Madeline to walk there on Sunday. +</p> + +<p> +"Where were you going, this morning, Maddy?" inquired +her friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunty and I were taking a ride to see Mrs. Linden; +she has not been very well all the week, and she thought +that a ride would do her good." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Maddy, don't you know that this is God's day, +and that we are commanded to keep it holy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have never been taught, Roland, to make much +difference; papa spends his Sunday mornings in the +library; Aunt Matilda often has the head-ache, and cannot +go out, and then I run off down to the shore with Hector, +or else take the boat, and paddle about on the lake." +</p> + +<p> +"God did not give us the day of rest for our own +pleasure, Maddy; it is the day when we ought to think +especially of holy things, and spend it in such a way as +will do our souls good, and please our Father in heaven." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you do on Sunday, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"We go to the Sunday-school, where we learn about +our blessed Saviour, and join in singing sweet praises to +his holy name; then we go to church; and when we come +home, dear mother always contrives something nicer for +dinner than on other days, though remember, Maddy, it is +prepared the day before; then she explains the Bible to +us, and tells us some of those old Scotch stories, which we +love to hear, about the holy men who died for their religion. +Sunday is such a sweet day at our little cottage, we are all +so close together then, and we feel how blessed is the +thought that we shall spend our heavenly Sabbath together +forever and ever." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Roland! how different you are from us at Woodcliff. +I get so tired of running about; I get tired of reading; +I have no one to speak to, and we don't go to church +more than once in every few weeks. I run out in the +kitchen and talk to our old cook, then I go talk to my pets, +then I run into the library and read a little, but all the +time, Roland, I want something that I cannot find." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if your father would let you come to our +Sunday-school?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll ask him, Roland; what do you do there?" +</p> + +<p> +"We learn Bible lessons, hymns, and catechism; we +have such kind, excellent teachers; and once a month we +have missionary meetings." +</p> + +<p> +"I should think that it was very stupid to hear nothing +all the time, but solemn talk about death and judgment." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled. "We hear of something else, Maddy; +about the blessed Saviour, the friend of sinners, and about +that happy land where Christians hope to go." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy turned an earnest look upon Roland's face. +</p> + +<p> +"How do you <i>know</i>, Roland, that all these things are +true? How do you <i>know</i> that the Bible is really God's +word? Papa has some books in his library, by great men, +who don't believe the Bible." +</p> + +<p> +"The Bible not true, Maddy! I know but little of the +reasons which prove it to be God's own word; but it would +take me hours to tell you even what I know, there are so +many things which prove it true. It tells about so many +things which were to happen hundreds of years before they +occurred, and they came exactly as the Bible said they +would. It told that there would be a flood, and the flood +came; we know that, not only from the Bible, but from +other old histories, and from the sayings of many ancient +nations. Who could tell but God, what was going to come +to pass, Maddy?" +</p> + +<p> +The child sat with a serious face turned towards Roland, +as she replied, "I cannot answer that, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"It has also foretold the fate of wicked nations, of +Babylon, of Jerusalem, of Sodom and Gomorrah; and just as +it declared, has it happened. It told of Jesus, when, +where, and how he should be born; and just so he came—and, +Maddy, there is a voice in all our hearts, that wants +something better than we can have here, something that +will last forever. The good Father knows that, Maddy, +for he put within us that immortal soul that longs for +immortal joys; and then he sent us down from heaven +these precious letters, which tell us of just such a state +beyond the grave. These letters were sent to God's own +servants at different times, and gathered together in the +days of King James, and made into the book which we +call the Bible." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose, Roland, that the voice which you speak of, +is that which makes me sometimes feel so tired of +everything, although I have so much; yet I am always wanting +something that I have not got." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what you want, Maddy; a heart at peace with +God, through Jesus Christ our Lord." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline wore a very serious face, as she turned to leave +her mother's grave, where she had been sitting; and, +plucking a flower from one of the plants, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, I'll go with you to Sunday-school; I want to +know more about these good things." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid that your father will not want you to go +among the people of our church, we are not of the same +sect as he." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you know, Roland, I can coax him to anything; +and though Aunt Matilda is very bigoted in her notions, +he won't mind what she says, if I want to go." +</p> + +<p> +Saturday evening came, and Maddy, mounting her +father's lap, said, +</p> + +<p> +"Papa, what would you give to know what I have in +this paper?" (and folding her hands tight over the package, +she turned her beaming face upon her father). "Before +I open it, I want you to promise me something—it is +something very good, papa; just say I shall have it, and +then I'll show what I have for you." +</p> + +<p> +Papa smiled upon his little daughter, as he said, "I +should like to know what it is before I promise." +</p> + +<p> +"It is, indeed, papa, something very good—just say +yes; that's a dear, good papa." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, Maddy, I say yes—now open the paper." +</p> + +<p> +Bending over her package, she opened just a small +portion, and holding it up before her father, said, with an +arch expression on her bright young face, +</p> + +<p> +"Just peep a little, papa," (and then closing it again,) +"now, as soon as you give me two sweet kisses, you shall +see what I have." +</p> + +<p> +Papa was only too willing to grant the request, and +Madeline, trembling with delight, said, +</p> + +<p> +"There, papa, see what little Mad-cap has made for +you;" and, opening wide her package, she produced a pair +of beautiful slippers, which, after months of labor, she had +worked for her father. It was her first piece of work, and +quite a triumph of her skill. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a sweet gift, Maddy; I shall be almost too proud +of them to wear them. Who would ever have thought of +my wild little daughter's working a pair of slippers?" and +Mr. Hamilton kissed his darling child again and again. +</p> + +<p> +"I never should have thought of doing it, papa, but +Mrs. Bruce told me that I ought to do something for my kind +father; and she showed me how to work them. Come, +papa, put out your foot, let's try them on; why they fit +beautifully; I am so glad!" +</p> + +<p> +"And now, what does my little daughter want?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, papa, just let me go to Roland Bruce's Sunday-school. +I get so tired on Sunday. Half the time Aunt +Matilda does not go to church, and I have to wander about +all day, tired of everything." +</p> + +<p> +"Brother, will you let the child go there? They are not +of our church; she will learn all kinds of puritanic notions; +I really think she ought to be brought up in the religion of +her parents." +</p> + +<p> +"And so do I, Matilda, most emphatically; but if you +do not attend to that yourself, and she must either lounge +about the house all day, rove up the sea-shore, and among +the lanes and woods, or go to Sunday-school with the +Bruces, where she can occupy her busy mind with something +good, I think the latter is to be preferred. You can +go, my daughter, if it promotes your happiness." +</p> + +<p> +"She will have no associates of her own class, if you +allow this intimacy." +</p> + +<p> +"She's only a child, Matilda; future years will regulate +all that." +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see, brother; I am afraid that you will repent +of the step." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy had gained the day; and on Sunday morning, +off she trotted with her friends, the Bruces, with great +delight. +</p> + +<p> +The exercises pleased her; fortunately, she was placed +under the care of a wise and excellent teacher; and Maddy +spent the first Sunday much to her satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +But with all these influences, she was still the same +mischief-loving child as ever. Old Betty, the cook, Nanny, +her own maid in the kitchen, Mademoiselle in the school-room, +and Aunt Matilda in the parlor, were all in turn the +subjects of her practical jokes. +</p> + +<p> +The first of April bad arrived, and her little brain was +busy with its plans. Early in the morning, Roland received +a note in printed letters, stating that if he would go down +to the sea-shore in the afternoon, and walk up to old Peter's +cabin, then down to the rock, he would find something +hanging on the flag-staff to his advantage. +</p> + +<p> +He had entirely forgotten that it was the first of April, +and his curiosity being awakened, he started off early in +the afternoon, and followed the directions given. When +he reached the rock, hanging to the flag-staff was a +package directed to him, which he commenced opening; after +removing many envelopes, he found a short note, directing +him to take the donkey and go to the next town, stopping +at the post-office, where he would find further directions, +and with the injunction to be sure and not neglect the hint. +Accordingly, he went; when reaching there, he found a +large and heavy package, directed in the same manner. +On opening it, it contained a brick, very carefully covered +in a number of newspapers, with directions to go to the +woods near Maple Lane school, and under the large oak-tree +by the door, he would find a spot marked by a board +with R.G.B. printed on it; on digging it up, he would +find the object of his search. +</p> + +<p> +Roland followed the direction; and, after much digging, +found a box directed as the rest; on opening of which he +drew out a small toy bagpipe, with the direction, "For +Roland when he visits the Highlands." Just as he was +examining the toy, out sprang Maddy, and making a low +courtesy, said— +</p> + +<p> +"It is the first of April, Roland; I hope you are not very +tired." +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time that she had seen him displeased. +He did not smile, for his time was very precious, and he +had wasted the whole afternoon with Madeline's folly. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, Miss Madeline, that you saw fit to send me +on such a chase. It will do for rich people to waste their +time—I have something else to do." +</p> + +<p> +"I was only in fun, Roland; I did not think that it +would make you angry." +</p> + +<p> +"I never could bear to be laughed at, and then I had +something very particular to do for my mother. It was +not kind to serve me such a trick." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not know that you were such a touchy boy, Roland. +I don't think that you need make such a fuss about +a trifle." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't help it; I never could take a joke. Good-bye," +and Roland mounted his donkey, and rode away without +another word. +</p> + +<p> +Poor little Maddy! she had not thought of such an end +to her sport, and her proud spirit was fully aroused. She +knew that she had done nothing very wrong, and felt +really angry at Roland for his conduct. She thought that +it was foolish, and determined to make no further apology. +He might go with his Scotch pride for all that she cared; +and with one hand, she haughtily tossed her curls, but with +the other, wiped away tears that would fall in spite of her +pride. +</p> + +<p> +Roland had a battle to fight all the way home. He felt +that he had done wrong; he had betrayed unchristian +tempers in the presence of one whom he desired to benefit, +had injured the cause of his Master, and wounded the feelings +of a kind little friend, who was only enjoying, as she +thought, a harmless piece of fun. +</p> + +<p> +The old man was very strong that day in Roland's heart; +and poor Bob felt something of the inward strife, as the +boy unconsciously urged him forward with the hard heels +of his boot. The new man whispered other counsels—"You +ought to be ashamed of yourself, Roland Bruce; +you pretend to be a Christian, and to get so vexed at a +piece of fun from a frolicsome little girl, who is such a good +friend to you." Roland slackened his pace, and by the +time that he had reached the cottage door, the new man +had prevailed. +</p> + +<p> +"Where have you been, Roland?" asked his mother. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, mother, this is the first of April, and Madeline +has sent me on a wild goose chase this whole afternoon. I +was very angry at first, and said some unkind things for +which I am very sorry." +</p> + +<p> +"I need not tell you what is your duty, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"No, dear mother; I will not lay my head upon my +pillow to-night, without clearing my conscience." +</p> + +<p> +As soon as tea was over, he walked over to Woodcliff; +and when near the house, met his little friend walking with +a serious step along the lane. As soon as she saw Roland, +she turned her head away, drew up her form to its utmost +height, and with a proud step attempted to pass by. But +Roland crossed her path, and taking off his cap said, +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, I could not go to my rest to-night, without +asking your pardon for my rudeness. I am very sensitive +to ridicule, but I do hope that you will forgive my hasty +speech. I ought to have been ashamed of myself for such +conduct to you." +</p> + +<p> +She turned her face towards the boy. Her eyes were +swimming with tears, but she extended her hand, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"I do forgive you, Roland, but I cannot tell you how +much you wounded me, for I was only in fun; and then, +Roland, I thought that Christians never get angry." +</p> + +<p> +"That is what grieved me so much, Madeline; that I, +who try to teach you, should have forgotten myself so far; +it has taught me a good lesson, and bade me to look up for +help, for my strength is all weakness when the tempter +comes." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we are friends now, Roland; I could not bear to +be angry with you. I shall not forget this first of April, +and know where to play my tricks in future." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII. +<br><br> +BOSTON RELATIVES. +</h3> + +<p> +"Which way, Maddy, this vacation?" asked Mr. Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think of Boston, papa? I have not seen +Aunt Clara so long; may I not go there? I don't +remember her at all." +</p> + +<p> +"That is what I was thinking of, Maddy; your aunt has +written so often. I am afraid, however, that you will have +a sober visit, for Aunt Clara is a very religious woman." +</p> + +<p> +"I have cousins in Boston, papa, and they will make my +time pass pleasantly." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you shall go, Maddy, and then your cousins may +visit you at Christmas." +</p> + +<p> +"What kind of a looking person is Aunt Clara, papa?" +</p> + +<p> +"She used to be a pleasant looking woman when she +was young, not very handsome, Maddy; but since she has +lost her children she has also lost all her bloom, and lives +entirely secluded from the world." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy was full of anticipated pleasure; but there was +one drawback—she did not like to leave her friends at the +cottage. +</p> + +<p> +"I came to bid you good-bye, Mrs. Bruce," said the +child. "I am going to Boston to spend the holidays; but +I shall not find such good friends there, I am sure." +</p> + +<p> +"There is one request I have to make, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"What is that, Mrs. Bruce?" +</p> + +<p> +"That you will bring me back your likeness." +</p> + +<p> +"That I will, if you want it." +</p> + +<p> +Roland, Effie and Maddy started to pay their last visit +for some time to the sea-shore. +</p> + +<p> +"Shan't I miss the old ocean, Roland? I do so love to +hear the music of its waves." +</p> + +<p> +"We shall miss you, Maddy," said Effie. "Only think, +you will be gone three whole months, and when you get to +Boston, you may forget your country friends." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what I never do, Effie," replied the child, with +a glowing cheek. "I do not fancy very many people, but I +never grow cold to those I once love. I hate warmly, and +I love with all my heart." +</p> + +<p> +Roland sat very still, for secluded as their lives were, +there was but one source of pleasure to them outside the +cottage walls, and that was the society of our impulsive +little Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Papa told me to say to you, Roland, that you may come +up to Woodcliff every Saturday, and get any book you want +to read." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Madeline; that is very kind. It will help +to pass my leisure time until you return." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline mounted the highest rock, and, standing by the +flag-staff, she spread out her arms towards the sea, saying, +"Good-bye, old ocean, until I come back. I shall find +nothing so grand as this, go where I may." +</p> + +<p> +They parted at the cottage door, and next morning, Aunt +Matilda was busily employed in packing up all the finery +that she could gather for her little niece. Handsome +dresses, and pretty tasty waists, several new bonnets, and +every variety of adornment that she could devise, were +heaped upon the child. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Madeline, I do hope that you will not be such a +wild little thing in Boston. If you want to be like a young +lady, you must not race about so—it tumbles your curls, and +disarranges your dress. No young lady is ever noisy or +boisterous. When you are invited out, you must always +wear gloves, and make a courtesy when you come in and +when you go out." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid, Aunty, that I shall often forget these rules; +I shall never stop to think of half of them." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope, Madeline, that you will not mortify me by any +breach of etiquette." +</p> + +<p> +"A fig for etiquette, Aunt Matilda; I am only a little +girl, and I am sure that Aunt Clara don't want me to be a +little woman." +</p> + +<p> +In due time, Maddy, accompanied by her father, started +on her trip. +</p> + +<p> +She had some dread of Aunt Clara, for she had heard so +much about her sorrows, her piety, and her gravity, that +she really expected to see a woman solemn as the grave, +and demure as a cloistered nun. Towards evening, they +arrived at Mrs. Edmonds'; and when Maddy entered the +parlor, nothing could exceed her surprise on meeting a +small lady of middle age, with a serene aspect and +peculiarly sweet smile around her mouth; her almost youthful +innocence of expression would have misled one, were it not +for the silver hair which lay upon her fair forehead in +rippling waves, falling in a few light curls around her face, +and speaking so deeply of grief and sundered ties. A black +silk dress, and white lace cap and collar—simple, but costly, +was the costume which at all times, distinguished Aunt +Clara. A pretty little foot, and delicate hands, especially +attracted Madeline's attention. The only ornaments she +wore, were a mourning pin containing her children's hair, +her wedding ring, and a plain gold watch. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Clara folded Maddy affectionately in her arms, and +turning to Mr. Hamilton, with much feeling, remarked— +</p> + +<p> +"What an image of Julia! I shall love you, Madeline, +for my dear sister's sake." +</p> + +<p> +"It is so, Clara; she grows every day more and more +like her mother. Just as impulsive; just as warm-hearted." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy decided at once that Aunt Clara was charming. +After a hasty toilet, Maddy was conducted to the family +room. Everything was so genial and cheerful, that she +really enjoyed her tea out of the bright silver urn; and the +old family plate seemed to shine with such a polish under +the gas-light, that she wondered if it was brought out in +compliment to the strangers. It really did smile a bright +welcome. The family consisted of Aunt Clara, and an +orphan child, the daughter of a dear friend, who had died +when she was an infant. Ever since, Mrs. Edmonds had +supplied a mother's place to Lucy, who bore her mother's +name. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was introduced to the young girl, who appeared +about fourteen. She soon found that Lucy was gentle and +attractive in her manners, with a degree of seriousness +unusual in a girl of her age. +</p> + +<p> +Lucy Edmonds was drawn towards the bright and beautiful +child, who prattled so sweetly around the supper +table; for not being possessed of many personal charms, +she was a warm admirer of it in others. Lucy's chief +attraction was a profusion of glossy black hair, that lay in +heavy folds around a remarkably fine head; a pale +complexion, ordinary features, and soft dark eyes, made up the +rest. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as tea was over, Madeline drew Lucy into the +parlor, and seating herself upon the sofa by her side, she +rattled away with questions, for which she scarcely waited +for an answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you ever see Lavinia Raymond? What a conceited +piece she is! Is she just as fond of dress as ever? +When she was at our house, all she thought about was +changing her dress, and walking up and down before the +glass. I suppose that I must be polite to her, for her +mother is my father's sister; but I know I shall like you +better, Lucy." +</p> + +<p> +Lucy was amused at the perfect openness of Madeline's +remarks, but she had been taught better lessons, and merely +replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia comes to see us occasionally; our doings are +not pleasing to her; but mamma does not like me to make +unpleasant remarks about people. Lavinia has never been +taught anything better. We ought to be sorry for her." +</p> + +<p> +"Well! well! you are a good little Lucy, I see that. I +am afraid that you will not like my plain-spoken words." +</p> + +<p> +"I like truth, Madeline; but it is not well, mamma says, +to express all that we think about people. Charity should +lead us to hope the best of everybody." +</p> + +<p> +"I do believe that you are a Methodist, Lucy; that's the +name that is given to very good people, is it not, Lucy?" +</p> + +<p> +"There are very good people among all Christians, +Madeline; but I think that my mamma is the best of all." +</p> + +<p> +"Lucy, will you give us some music?" said Aunt Clara. +</p> + +<p> +She did not need any coaxing, but went forward to the +instrument with the calm self-possession of one that had +been taught to think but little of herself. +</p> + +<p> +Lucy Edmonds had a sweet voice, and sang several songs +most charmingly. +</p> + +<p> +"That's what I like, Lucy," remarked little Mad-cap. +"Now there was Lavinia Raymond, who has had the very +best masters; it was the greatest act of condescension for +her to play one piece, and then it was done in such an +affected style, that I really used to feel sick when she sat +down to the piano. Here! this was the way;" and Madeline +seated herself at the instrument, and, being a perfect +mimic, commenced rolling her eyes, and mincing her words +in imitation of her cousin. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline," said Aunt Clara, "did not Lavinia stay with +you some months?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, ma'am, she was at Woodcliff three months." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it kind, Maddy, to ridicule her? You know that she +is your cousin, and has been your guest. Never mind +Lavinia, Maddy, I would rather hear some of your music." +</p> + +<p> +"I would play willingly, Aunt Clara, but I only know a +few simple songs." +</p> + +<p> +She sat down with such an artless, winning manner, that +Aunt Clara listened with peculiar delight, not only on +account of the manner with which she complied, but with +feelings of deep emotion, as the rich music of her remarkable +voice reminded her of the sister whom she had lost. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you like Scotch songs, Aunt Clara?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my dear; will you sing one?" and Maddy sang +with peculiar sweetness— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Ye banks and braes o' bonny doon,<br> + How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair,"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +but when she sang in her own touching way, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "I am wearing awa', Jean,"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Mrs. Edmonds could not restrain the starting tears, for it +was her sister's favorite song. +</p> + +<p> +About nine o'clock, a bell was rung, which assembled +the family for prayers. The two servants, with +Mr. Hamilton, Lucy, and Madeline, composed the worshipers. +Lucy took her seat at the piano, and played an evening +hymn, in which all present joined; and Aunt Clara's soft +impressive voice read the Scriptures, and a solemn form of +evening prayer, which committed all present to the care of +the Good Shepherd. All was serious, and yet there was +a sweet cheerfulness about the whole household, which +had a most harmonizing influence upon our little girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night, my love," said the kind aunt, as she kissed +the niece; "Lucy will show you to your room." +</p> + +<p> +There was a dear little chamber adjoining Aunt Clara's +room, which had been fitted up for Madeline. It was a +gem of a child's sleeping-room—a pretty green carpet, the +dearest little bedstead and wash-stand, the prettiest little +bureau, and neatest chairs, a hanging-shelf filled with such +nice books—pure white curtains, the sweetest toilet set, +and pictures of domestic scenes of innocent and happy +childhood. It was charming! So thought Madeline as +she looked around. And when she saw the little Bible +and hymn-book, which were placed upon a table near her +bed, she felt that Aunt Clara had forgotten nothing that +could make her good and happy. +</p> + +<p> +The first bell awoke our little girl, and in a few minutes, +Lucy peeped in to see what progress she was making. +She was soon dressed, and, after a few verses in the Bible, +and a short prayer of simple words, Maddy met good Aunt +Clara in the breakfast-room. Smiling and serene, she +kissed her little niece; and, after the morning devotions +and breakfast were over, Aunt Clara, taking Madeline by +the hand, went up to her chamber. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, my dear niece, there are a few things which I +wish you to do, after the chambermaid has attended +to the ordinary care of your room. I want you to keep +everything in perfect order, putting up your comb and +brush, hanging up your dresses, and putting away everything +that you are not using; neatness is invaluable to a +woman, and I hope that you have been accustomed to +these things." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy smiled, and said, "I don't think that I ever hung +up a dress in all my life; Nanny did everything of that +kind for me; but I'll try to remember, if I can." +</p> + +<p> +"So I suppose, Madeline; but it is a good thing to learn +to wait upon yourself. After a while, we will take a ride; +I want to show you the environs of Boston." +</p> + +<p> +The child was enchanted with all that she saw; her +innocent expressions of delight amused Aunt Clara, and +brought back many a train of tender thought, as her +enthusiasm recalled the image of her mother. +</p> + +<p> +When she reached home, she found that Lavinia Raymond +had been to see her. +</p> + +<p> +"Is not this foolish, Aunt Clara, for Lavinia, who is +only a little girl, to leave her card for her cousin? She is +a real dunce to put on such airs." +</p> + +<p> +"Stop, Madeline; it is your cousin, and you should not +indulge in such free remarks." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Aunt Clara, I would not say one word behind her +back, that I would not to her face; I've told her many a +time that she was a simpleton." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you expect to go through this world, Maddy, telling +everybody what you think of them?" +</p> + +<p> +"If I don't by my words, I must by my manners; for +I cannot, for the life of me, be polite to people whom I +do not like; that seems deceitful, Aunt Clara." +</p> + +<p> +"No, Maddy, you are mistaken; courtesy is due to all—you +may form very erroneous opinions of people; and there +could be no social intercourse if all the thoughts that pass +through our minds, are to be obtruded at all times upon +persons whom we may not choose to fancy." +</p> + +<p> +Next day, Lucy and Madeline called upon Lavinia. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you mean, Lavinia, by leaving your card the +other day?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Madeline, that is the fashionable way of paying +visits!" +</p> + +<p> +"Poh! Lavinia, we are nothing but little girls; and it is +just ridiculous for us to be playing the woman." +</p> + +<p> +Lucy could not but smile at her homely bluntness, and +thought that her mamma would have some trouble before +she could tame the spirits, or discipline Madeline's voluble +tongue. +</p> + +<p> +In a day or two, Aunt Clara invited a few choice little +girls to take tea with our young friends. They were +pleasant children, just such as Madeline liked, fond of play, +and not too old to talk about dolls. Lavinia, who was one +of the party, looked down upon the rest with supreme +contempt, and when asked to join in their childish plays, +could only answer, "No, I thank you; pray excuse me." +</p> + +<p> +Lucy Edmonds exerted herself to the utmost: joined in +their plays, and when they wanted to dance, played several +cotillons for their amusement. Aunt Clara brought out +some childish games, and in her own sweet winning +manner, made one of the company. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline passed a delightful evening. After the children +had gone, she hung around her aunt, as if wanting to say +something. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, Maddy? Have you not something to tell me?" +</p> + +<p> +Seating herself on a little stool at her aunt's feet, she +said, "How is it, Aunt Clara? I heard that you were so +stern and cold, and that you thought it a sin even to smile. +I thought that I should be so afraid of you; then you let +us dance, and I always thought that good people did not +dance. I am not at all afraid of you, Aunt Clara, and I +love you so much more than I do Aunt Matilda." +</p> + +<p> +"You have made some common mistakes, Madeline; the +world likes to cast reproach upon the children of God, and +so they represent us as dull and gloomy; but the Bible +does not, Maddy. The righteous there are always spoken +of as the only happy people in the world—merriment +belongs to the days of childhood, Madeline, and if the joy +of the spirit leads the feet to a dancing motion, let it be so; +only let it stop when childhood has passed away; more +serious duties, cares, and joys then have claims upon us." +</p> + +<p> +"You let Lucy dance, then, Aunt Clara?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Madeline, here at home if she wishes to; but +dancing-schools and children's balls, and all these foolish +displays, I entirely discourage." +</p> + +<p> +"What will you do, aunt, when Lucy is a grown-up lady?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am trying all that I can to give Lucy a strictly +religious education, and, by the blessing of God, I expect +that she will be a Christian; that will regulate all the rest, +Madeline. Lucy will not then need the vain amusements +of the world to make her happy—when the butterfly bursts +its shell, it feeds no more upon the food which satisfied the +grub, but honeyed sweets alone suits its new nature; so +with the child of God, Maddy, who can say, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Let worldly minds the world pursue,<br> + It has no charms for me;<br> + Once I admired its follies too,<br> + But grace has set me free."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Well, dear aunt, if all pious people were just like you, +I think that everybody would want to be Christians; but +there was Miss Molly Tibbs, with a face as long as my arm, +and a mouth drawn up like a persimmon, she thought it +was a sin to laugh, and that pink was a wicked color; just +think of that, Aunt Clara, the sweet color of the lovely rose +wicked! Did you ever hear such stuff? But wasn't she +a vixen! scolding from morning till night—tormenting her +little brothers and sisters, and making everybody unhappy +around her." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor lady! What a pity that she had not studied the +character of our blessed Master, whose whole errand upon +the earth was to make men happy." +</p> + +<p> +On the first Sunday after her arrival she accompanied +Aunt Clara and Lucy to church. It was a solemn service, +and the minister was an earnest, faithful preacher of the +simple gospel. When the sweet organ rolled through the +church with its swell of heart-stirring music, Madeline was +carried away, for she was not accustomed to the organ in +their humble village church. +</p> + +<p> +"Was not that lovely music, Aunt Clara?" asked the +child; "it is so different from our country choir. I could +listen all day to music like that; and the voices, Oh! how +that lady's sounded; it seemed to ring, Aunt Clara, just +like a sweet bell, and then it rolled up and up, and I could +follow it all round the roof—it seemed to carry us right up +to Heaven." +</p> + +<p> +Sunday was a happy day at Aunt Clara's. She wore +her brightest smile on that blessed day, and everything +around her household breathed of the sweet calm within +that holy bosom. In the corner of the parlor stood a harp +closely covered. Madeline had often wondered who played +upon the instrument, and at last ventured to ask Aunt +Clara. +</p> + +<p> +"I was very fond of the instrument, Madeline, and used +to play upon it in the happy days when my husband and +children were with me; but since then I have never +touched it." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you not let me hear some of its sweet strains, +Aunt Clara? I never heard the harp," asked Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"It is out of tune, Maddy; but to-morrow I will send +for the tuner, and you shall be gratified." +</p> + +<p> +"Whose pictures are those, Aunt Clara?" asked the +child, as she stood gazing at the portraits of two lovely +children, a boy of twelve, and a girl of nine years of age. +</p> + +<p> +"That is my Edward, Madeline, and that is my sweet +Agnes; they have been among the blessed ones seven +years now; they were lovely and pleasant in their lives, +and in their death they were not divided. Only one week +separated them. Edward was taken first with scarlet fever, +and Agnes followed him in one short week. Oh! Madeline, +these were dark hours when I laid my darlings in the grave; +but they were lambs of Jesus' flock, Maddy, and the +comfort came. Jesus healed my wounds with his own gracious +hand. I can say now, 'The Lord gave, and the Lord hath +taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.'" +</p> + +<p> +"What a sweet face Agnes has! She looks so pure, +just like a sweet lily of the valley." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what we used to call her, Maddy, for she was +just as lovely as those sweet lilies. Look here, my child," +and Mrs. Edmonds opened a little book which contained a +number of dried flowers. "These she gathered the last +year of her sweet life, and pressed them for her mother; +they are so precious, Madeline. Come up stairs, my dear, +I want to show you something else," and Aunt Clara led +the way to a small room that was always locked. "This +was my darlings' play-room, Maddy." +</p> + +<p> +A baby house, a rocking horse, some hanging shelves +filled with books, several dolls, a little bureau filled with +dolls' dresses, and a box of carpenters' tools—all these +sweet mementoes were there. But that which touched +Madeline most, was the last Christmas tree that the mother +had ever dressed. There it was, with all its little keepsakes +from various friends. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Aunt Clara, did it not break your heart to part +with both?" +</p> + +<p> +"It would have done so, my child, but for the grace +which bade me look upward, when the first storm of grief +had passed, and I could look up at the crown of glory, the +palms of victory, and the white robes of the upper world; +then by degrees my grief was stilled, and I have found +comfort in lightening the griefs of my fellow-sufferers, and +spreading the flowers of love along the path of other +children, as I would have done for my own darlings." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what makes you so good to Lucy, dear aunt," +answered Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Lucy is a great blessing, dear; she is so thoughtful for +her years. I think she never forgets my sorrow, and is +always trying to make up for the loss of those who have +gone before." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, aunt, I never should have thought that you had +seen so much trouble, you are always so smiling and happy." +</p> + +<p> +"Maddy, there are some of the marks of the grief that +wrung my heart," and she pointed to the silver hair, so fine, +so soft, "it turned white in one night, my child." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline felt a deeper reverence for her dear aunt from +that day, and by every means in her power tried to show +her love for her afflicted relative. And in return, Aunt +Clara learned to love most tenderly the wild child of nature +committed for a time to her care. The next day, the tuner +was sent for, and in the evening, Aunt Clara entertained +Madeline with some exquisite sacred music on the harp. +</p> + +<p> +"I have often heard papa talk about the harp, he is so +fond of that instrument. Would it not be a great surprise +if I could learn the harp without his knowledge? he would +be so delighted." +</p> + +<p> +"We will see about it, Maddy." +</p> + +<p> +Next day, Mrs. Edmonds engaged one of the best teachers +in Boston, and laid out a daily plan for her little niece as +well as Lucy, for she well knew that idleness is the bane +of happiness. +</p> + +<p> +"Line upon line, and precept upon precept," was, however, +the discipline which she had constantly to exercise in +training the wayward nature of her interesting charge. +</p> + +<p> +One day Aunt Clara looked over the banisters, and saw +her little niece talking very earnestly to a poor woman at +the front door. +</p> + +<p> +"Come here, Madeline, I want to speak to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a minute, aunt," said the child, "I will be there +directly." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is that woman, Maddy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, aunt; but she is so poor and ragged. +She has five children, and no husband, and they are starving +to death." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you know that, my child?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, aunt, she said so," replied Maddy, with an earnest +look. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you give her, my child?" +</p> + +<p> +"All that was in my purse, aunt." +</p> + +<p> +"And how much was that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only two dollars, aunt, and that is so little to buy +clothes and food for so many." +</p> + +<p> +"You had better not give money in that way, my child." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Edmonds went to the door, took the woman's +address, and promised to call upon her the next day. Accordingly +she went, but no such person lived there, or could be +heard of in the neighborhood. Madeline was sadly +chagrined, when she found that the woman had told such a +dreadful falsehood. +</p> + +<p> +"So you see, my dear, it is not best to give money at +the door; it is always advisable to visit such cases." +</p> + +<p> +"What a shame! Aunt Clara, for that woman to be so +wicked; she might prevent us from giving to one who is +really deserving." +</p> + +<p> +"So it is, my dear; but we have to learn some very sad +lessons in this wicked world." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline frequently visited Lavinia, not because she +wished to do so, but simply on the ground of relationship, +and Lavinia frequently sent for her. One morning, a +servant rung the bell, and left cards for Madeline and Lucy, +from Lavinia Raymond for the next Tuesday evening, +announcing herself at home at eight o'clock. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Clara, must we go? I don't want to go to any +such parties of would-be men and women." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose that you must go, Maddy; you will give +great offence to your Aunt Raymond, if you do not." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not going to dress up in anything but a simple +muslin, aunt, and if she don't like it, I don't care." +</p> + +<p> +"That is the most becoming for a little girl; it is what +Lucy will wear." +</p> + +<p> +The evening arrived, and Lavinia was quite shocked at +the plebeian simplicity of Madeline and Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you not wear one of your silk dresses, +Madeline? this is a full dress party. I think you might have +paid me the compliment." +</p> + +<p> +"I came as a little girl, Lavinia, not as a young lady." +</p> + +<p> +"You are the greatest simpleton that I ever saw, Madeline, +with a father rich enough, and indulgent enough to +give you anything you want, and you care no more for dress +than a little country girl." +</p> + +<p> +"That is just what I am, Lavinia." +</p> + +<p> +The sight of so many over-dressed children aping all the +airs and graces of grown men and women amused our little +girl, and no sooner was she at home, than she commenced +mimicking the folly that she had witnessed. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunty, there was one of the most terrible gluttons there +among these would-be ladies that I ever met with. She ate +of everything upon the table, every variety of ice-cream and +cake, and jelly, and confectionery; she ate oysters, and +drank champagne; and to crown all, she filled her pockets +with choice bon-bons; and when the candied fruit-basket +was broken, took her share of that. I wonder how she got +home; I know that she was deadly sick, for she looked as +pale as a ghost. I'd rather sail on the lake back of our +house with two or three little girls, than go to a dozen +grand parties like that. You ought to have seen Lavinia, +Aunt Clara, flounced to the waist, quantities of jewelry, +hair dressed by a fashionable hair-dresser, and she bowed +and courtsied about all the evening, as if she were +twenty-one, instead of thirteen." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Madeline, will you ever remember that you +were entertained last evening by Lavinia, and that you +should not indulge in such free remarks?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't help it, Aunt Clara; I hate affectation, and +despise flirts; a flirting child is perfectly horrid." +</p> + +<p> +"These are strong expressions, my dear child; I do not +think that the occasion calls for them." +</p> + +<p> +"I expect, aunt, that I shall have to take Lavinia home +with me. Aunt Raymond hinted it last night; but I must +have Lucy; shan't I, Aunt Clara?" +</p> + +<p> +"We will see, my dear; I should like Lucy very much +to spend a few weeks in the country. I think that she needs +the change." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you go with me to-morrow to a good artist? I +promised to take some of my likenesses home. Mrs. Bruce +would be so disappointed." +</p> + +<p> +"And who is Mrs. Bruce, Maddy?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is one of my best friends, but she is very poor, +aunt; she has to do plain sewing, and go to market for her +living; she has two such good children, one named Roland, +he is so good and so wise; they have taught me so much, +Aunt Clara; and then she has a daughter Effie, such a dear +girl; they are Scotch people, aunt, you would like them so +much." +</p> + +<p> +"Is Mrs. Bruce a lady, Maddy?" asked her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +"A lady, aunt! I don't know what to say; she has +nothing that any other lady has; she has a very mean home, +common clothes, and they are one of the poorest families +around Woodcliff; but there is something about her, aunt, +not at all like the common poor; she is educated, refined, +polite, pious—yes, aunt, she must be a lady—sometimes I +think Roland must have been a relation to the great Bruce, +he is such a hero." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline succeeded in getting some really good pictures +of herself; giving one to Aunt Clara, and one to Aunt +Raymond, she reserved the remainder for dear friends at home. +</p> + +<p> +"Here is a letter, Aunt Clara, from dear papa; he will +be here in two weeks, and says that Lavinia and Lucy must +be ready to go home with us—you will not object, dear +aunt?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Maddy, Lucy can go." Madeline was very happy +at the idea of returning to Woodcliff, though sorry to leave +her beloved aunt. She had made surprising improvement +on the harp, and regretted the loss of her lessons. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton had but a short time to stay; therefore, on +the next morning after his arrival, the party turned their +faces towards Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, dear aunt," sobbed Maddy; "I shall not +soon forget the sweet lessons I have learned here; you +will keep my secret, won't you, aunty?" +</p> + +<p> +"You'll come to me, Maddy, should sorrow overtake +you; Aunt Clara always has a warm corner at her +hearthstone for her little niece." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IX, +<br><br> +HOME AGAIN. +</h3> + +<p> +And so they drove off. Arrived at Woodcliff, Maddy +returned to her old pursuits and pleasures. It was a happy +little group that gathered that evening at the widow's +cottage. Madeline, anxious to take the promised picture, +invited her cousins to accompany her. +</p> + +<p> +"Not I," answered Lavinia; "you must really excuse +me; Lucy can do as she pleases, but I have no taste for +such plebeian associates." +</p> + +<p> +"Every one to her taste," replied Maddy. "Come, Lucy, +let us go." +</p> + +<p> +It was a warm welcome that was extended to them, and +when Madeline handed her picture to Mrs. Bruce, +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, my dear child," was the quick answer; "you +could have brought me nothing which I shall so much value; +it is such a perfect likeness." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad that you are pleased, Mrs. Bruce; and I am +so happy to be at home again." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you had a pleasant visit, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed, I have learned such sweet lessons from +my precious Aunt Clara; she is so good, and so happy. +She lives religion, Mrs. Bruce; she does not talk it as some +people do; but pray excuse me, and here is my cousin Lucy +who has come down to stay with me." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to see her for your sake, Madeline; but here +come Roland and Effie; how glad they will be!" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll just hide behind the door, don't tell;" and in a +minute she had concealed herself, until the children were +fully in the house. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly springing out from her concealment, Effie +could not restrain her joy, and folded Maddy in a heart-warm +embrace, while Roland, with beaming eyes, extended +both hands, and said, with deep emotion, "You are +welcome, Maddy, back among us. Woodcliff is nothing +without you." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline kept her young friends constantly busy going +from place to place, and showing them all the amusements +around the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +Lucy was enchanted; for, being simple-hearted, nothing +pleased her so much as the charming scenes of nature; but +Lavinia's tastes were so much perverted, that green trees, +shady lanes, quiet skies, and even the grand and glorious +ocean, had no charms for her. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, the three girls, accompanied by Hector, +took their accustomed walk to the sea-shore. Madeline +was in high spirits, and mounted the highest rock, leading +her cousins after her; she skipped about from point to +point, and at last clambered down the sides of the little +cove, which was easily crossed at low tide. In the +excitement of their play, running races with Hector, they had +rambled far up the beach, forgetting entirely the rising tide. +Maddy, in her wild frolic, had taken off her shoes and +stockings, and had amused herself by wading in the water. +Evening was approaching, and when they returned, they +found it impossible to cross; the tide had risen so high, +that the cove was entirely impassable. Madeline was now +alarmed, for there was no other way of return but by the +cove; fortunately, she had left her hat tied to the flag-staff, +and with the quickness of thought she called Hector, and +throwing a stick across the cove, sent him in search; he +dashed through the water, and stood barking loud upon +the other side, for he seemed to understand their +danger—up and down he ran, then up to the top of the rock as if to +search for some one; at last, he came bounding back, as +if to tell good news; his bark was no longer one of alarm, +it was one of joy. +</p> + +<p> +"Hector has found some one," said Madeline; "I know +his ways, he does everything but talk." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia began to wring her hands. "What shall we +do? we can't stay here all night." +</p> + +<p> +"I should not like it much, Lavinia," replied Maddy; +"but I think that somebody is coming." +</p> + +<p> +In another minute, Roland appeared on the top of the +rock. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be alarmed; I'll bring help soon;" and, dashing +through the water, he took Madeline in his arms, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be afraid, I can carry you; it is not far across, +and nothing else can be done." +</p> + +<p> +The water by this time had reached his armpits, but as +Madeline kept quiet, he succeeded in landing her in safety +on the other side. It was not so easy to carry the others. +Lucy was older and larger, but willing to be directed by +Roland, she also crossed in safety; and Hector manifested +his joy at each landing, by barking loudly and licking the +hands of the young ladies, especially his pet Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +But Lavinia's folly had nearly cost her life; first by her +ridiculous airs while the water was rising, then her fears +about her delicate dress, then her squeamishness about +allowing Roland to carry her. At last, he had to say, +</p> + +<p> +"There is not another minute to lose," and, seizing +Lavinia without her consent, he commenced the crossing. +The water was now above his shoulders; Lavinia writhed, +and struggled, and screamed; Roland tried to pacify her, +but in vain. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot hold you, miss, unless you are quiet." +</p> + +<p> +But it was all in vain—and in the struggle, Roland +tripped in the water, and Lavinia fell from his arms; for a +moment, she disappeared; Roland, too, in his efforts to +reach her, was struggling under the water. Hector sprang +into the water, and in another minute, was carrying the +silly girl to the shore. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was in agony, her cheek pale as death, for +Roland had not yet risen; in another second, her fears +were relieved; he regained his feet, and soon reached the +shore in safety. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia was dreadfully frightened; her mouth filled with +sea-water, and her clothes drenched with the bath. +</p> + +<p> +"How did you find us, Roland?" asked Maddy. +</p> + +<p> +"Hector's bark alarmed me; I traced you by your shoes +on the rock, and your hat upon the flag-staff." +</p> + +<p> +"How can we thank you, Roland?" continued the child; +"what should we have done without you?" +</p> + +<p> +Lucy too, returned her thanks; but Lavinia, in whose +behalf he had incurred the most risk, coldly replied: +</p> + +<p> +"How could you let me drop, sir? I have spoiled my +handsome dress, and my new shoes." +</p> + +<p> +Roland did not answer; but Madeline replied with a +flashing eye, +</p> + +<p> +"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Lavinia Raymond? when +Roland really risked his life to save yours. Have +you no thanks?" +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks for what? spoiling my beautiful dress?" +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia Raymond, you are a fool! I have no patience +with you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Maddy! don't talk so; think of dear Aunt Clara," +said Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +"She makes me so mad, I can't help it." +</p> + +<p> +Roland, by this time, had disappeared, having gone to +one of the cottages on the beach, and found that Lavinia +could get dry clothes there. +</p> + +<p> +There was no time to be lost; the party hurried to the +hut; Lavinia had to endure the mortification of being +dressed in the clothes of the fisherman's daughter, and all +the party to ride home in an old cart. There was nothing +else to be done, and by this time, our changing, impulsive +Maddy had forgotten all her indignation towards Lavinia, +and was in a perfect gale of merriment at the ludicrous +figure which they made in the old ricketty cart. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, Miss Raymond, no one would know you in +this queer dress. We would make a fine tableau, would +we not, Lucy?" +</p> + +<p> +It was some time before Madeline escaped again to the +shore, for her father was really alarmed at the result of this +dangerous excursion. +</p> + +<p> +Maddy began to long for her harp lessons. Having +confided her secret to Aunt Matilda, they began to wonder +how they should continue to go on without Mr. Hamilton's +knowledge. Most unexpectedly, an opportunity offered. +</p> + +<p> +"What says my little daughter about parting with papa +for a few months?" said Mr. Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, papa; where are you going?" replied the child. +</p> + +<p> +"I am called, suddenly, to Europe, and will be gone +four or five months." +</p> + +<p> +"How can we do without you, papa?" +</p> + +<p> +"The time will pass very rapidly, Maddy; you will still +continue at school, and Mademoiselle will go on with the +French lessons at home." +</p> + +<p> +The next week Mr. Hamilton departed. Aunt Matilda +hired a harp from Boston, and engaged the same teacher +to come twice a week to give lessons, as there was a +railroad sufficiently near to make this practicable. Madeline +devoted herself most assiduously to her music lessons, +for she was determined to surprise her father on his return. +Her talent was remarkable, and progress accordingly rapid. +</p> + +<p> +She was so much occupied, that she saw but little of the +Bruces, for during the stay of her cousins, her father +had given her permission to stay from school. Roland +missed his little friend, and wondered what was keeping +her so long away. Still, occasionally he met her on her +accustomed walks and rides, but always in company with +her young friends, and a passing bow or smile was all that +he received. +</p> + +<p> +One autumn evening, however, in his rambles, Madeline +suddenly stood before him. +</p> + +<p> +"How do you do, Roland?" said the child, extending +her hand, "it seems so long since we have had one of our +pleasant chats." +</p> + +<p> +"How long will your friends stay, Maddy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Some weeks longer, Roland, and I am so busy; do you +know that I am taking harp lessons to surprise papa? He +will be gone some months yet, and when he returns I shall +be able to play. Would you like to hear me, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Madeline, if it were possible." +</p> + +<p> +"How did you spend your time when I was in Boston, +Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I went regularly to Woodcliff every Saturday, and took +advantage of Mr. Hamilton's permission to use his library, +and all the leisure moments I had, I employed in reading; +it was not much, but I used to sit up one hour later, and +thus read a great deal." +</p> + +<p> +"What books did you choose, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"The lives of wise and good men, Maddy, especially such +as had to endure hardships in their youth; and I found that +most of these great men had to struggle in their early years; +and I found too, Maddy, that those who left the brightest +mark in the world were believers in the blessed Bible; +others made impressions while they lived, but they are +almost forgotten now; but Christian philosophers and +statesmen are those whom God honors." +</p> + +<p> +"How is it, Roland, that all your thoughts and words +seem filled with the Bible? Other boys are not like you." +</p> + +<p> +"Because it was my daily food; rising up, and lying down, +in the house, and by the wayside, it is, Maddy, our +household book; and you need not wonder that all my life has +been so constantly under the power of its heavenly truths." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish that I loved the Bible as you do, Roland; I +have seen so much of its power at dear Aunt Clara's—she +is such a lovely Christian; but I love to read other books +so much better—will you come up next Saturday, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Maddy, I have a book to bring home—will you +not let me hear some of your music then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly—I know two or three pretty pieces which I +think you will like so much." +</p> + +<p> +"I must go now, Maddy, for my mother will want me; +good-bye, get ready to come to school soon;" and with these +words, Roland turned towards his home. +</p> + +<p> +Saturday came, and Madeline was tuning her harp at an +early hour, in expectation of her young friend. +</p> + +<p> +When Roland arrived, she was practising one of her sweetest +pieces, and calling him into the parlor, she played all +that she knew, while Roland stood enchanted with the +music that he had never heard before. +</p> + +<p> +"I have learned one hymn, Roland, for you, because I +knew that you like sacred music;" and she sang with +touching sweetness an evening hymn. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia Raymond was watching outside of the piazza +the performance in the parlor, and as Roland passed out on +his way home, the sneer with which she greeted him, was +but a repetition of the insolence of other meetings. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, are you really such a dunce as to let yourself +down to that beggar boy?" asked Lavinia, as she entered +the house. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen to me, Lavinia; the Bruces are my friends, poor +as they are; I honor and love them all, and you shall not +sneer at them when I am near—you are not worthy to +mention even the name of a Bruce." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite theatrical, Madeline!—you would make an excellent +actress; the flashing eye, the glowing cheek, the lofty +head, and the proud step would very well suit a queen." +</p> + +<p> +"Be silent, Lavinia, I will not submit to your insolence;" +and Madeline haughtily left the room. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes she entered, and extending her hand, +said, +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia, forgive me; I was very rude to a guest, but +you provoked me." +</p> + +<p> +"You may enjoy your friends for me, Madeline; but I +must say that I am sorry to see you throwing your +attentions away upon plebeians." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not doing so, Lavinia; it makes me happy to do +anything for people so good as they are, for I do believe +that they are the real children of God. I would that I +were half so good." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER X. +<br><br> +SUNSHINE AT THE HALL; SHADOWS AT THE COTTAGE. +</h3> + +<p> +Morning, noon, and night, was Madeline inventing some +new scheme of fun and frolic, never, however, neglecting +her harp. +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle generally managed to get about half of her +lessons; Aunt Matilda did not interfere, for Maddy had +company, and could not be expected to study much. +</p> + +<p> +"You know, aunt, that it would be the height of impoliteness, +and I could not expect the girls to take lessons; to +be sure, Lucy does, as a matter of choice." +</p> + +<p> +This was sufficient, and Madeline's all-powerful +arguments prevailed. +</p> + +<p> +Poor M'lle Fouladoux was often sorely tried, and Fanfan +was her only comfort. +</p> + +<p> +Occupied with her young friends, Madeline knew but +little of the shadows gathering over her friends at the +cottage. +</p> + +<p> +It was all sunshine at Woodcliff; for thus far, Maddy's +life had been all a bright summer day; but it would have +been quickly dimmed, if the young heiress had known the +sorrows that were threatening her humble friends. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton had formerly lived in the South, and +having freed the servants who lived with him, he had +brought his house-domestics to his Northern home. They +were strongly attached to their master's family, and +Madeline, especially, was their idol. +</p> + +<p> +Nanny thought nothing could surpass her young mistress +in beauty, or grace, or smartness, and many a cup of flattery +was administered by this faithful, but foolish servant. +</p> + +<p> +"Girls, I think that we shall have some rare sport this +fall; Jim, the coachman, is quite smitten with our Nanny; +they shall have a wedding, and I'll be mistress of the +ceremonies. You ought to see the darkies dance;" and +Madeline mimicked to the life what she had often seen in the +kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +"Will they be married here?" inquired Lavinia. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed; they shall be married in our dining-room, +and I'll dress Nanny's head myself." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline watched her opportunity, and questioned Nanny +about the affair. +</p> + +<p> +"Lor' bless you, young missus, what put this ere in your +head? Jim is jest a perticelar friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know, Nanny; you need not try to deceive me," +answered the child. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Miss Maddy, what do you all think of Jim?" +</p> + +<p> +"He's a clever fellow, Nanny, and we are all willing." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then, Miss, I mout as well tell; we are gwan to +be married in about a month." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall have a nice wedding, Nanny; I'll give you +your wedding suit; you shall be married in the dining-room; +get your bridesmaids and groomsmen, and you shall +have a grand time, Nanny." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy was a busy little bee during the next month; the +evening at length arrived, and the guests assembled in the +dining-room waiting for the bride and groom. Maddy had +been superintending the bride's dress; but having +completed that, with her cousins, joined the company in the +parlor. The minister stood waiting at the head of the +room. At length the bridesmaids and groomsmen appeared, +then Nanny and the groom. She was dressed in white, +with low neck and short sleeves, and her head encircled by +a wreath of large red roses. The ceremony proceeded. +When about half through, Jim, supposing it ended, turned +to kiss his bride. +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet," said the minister. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, well! so far, so good. Go on, Massa." +</p> + +<p> +When the ceremony was ended, they took their seats +among the congratulations of their numerous colored friends, +and with the imitative quickness of their race, the manners +of ladies and gentlemen were most amusingly copied in +Mr. Hamilton's dining room. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Miss Nanny, you're quite brilliance to-night," +said one of the groomsmen. +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you calling Miss Nanny, Bill?" said the other +groomsman, tittering, "that is Miss Roberts now." +</p> + +<p> +Nanny hung her head bashfully, and, looking up at Jim, +said, +</p> + +<p> +"That name sounds mighty quar." +</p> + +<p> +About ten o'clock, a nice supper was announced in the +servants' sitting room, and it was really amusing to our +young folks, to see the airs with which the colored +gentlemen handed out the belles to the supper table. +</p> + +<p> +"We're much obliged to you, Miss Madeline," said +Jim, "for this party, for we know that you got it up for +us." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope that you will make Nanny a good husband, Jim, +for she is a good girl. I won't let you be cross to her." +</p> + +<p> +After supper, a number of songs enlivened the evening, +and a serenade at a late hour, in which four voices joined, +wound up the affair. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline had heard nothing of the Bruces for several +weeks, excepting by a few casual words in the Sunday-school +room, for Lucy and she still attended. On the +following Sunday morning, Maddy thought that Roland +looked very sad, and Effie was not present. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, Roland?" asked the child. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Madeline! dear mother is so sick; she seems to be +growing weaker every day." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't get disheartened, Roland; you know what you +have often said to me, 'Look up for help.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know, Madeline; but the loss of my mother +would be such a great calamity, that I cannot always look +up. Sometimes, I cannot trust the promises; then I get so +weak, I can scarcely hold up my head." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, Roland. Is there anything that I can do +for her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Come and see her, Madeline, that would cheer her up." +</p> + +<p> +"I have been detained by company, Roland, that is all +the reason." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know that; we can't expect you to leave them +often." +</p> + +<p> +"I will come soon, Roland; I am so very sorry." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline kept her word, but her high spirits were +suddenly saddened, when she saw the pale face and trembling +hands of her kind friend. Mrs. Bruce was sitting up +endeavoring to sew, but the marks of languor were so +apparent, that a chill settled around Maddy's heart, and she +feared that Roland must soon lose this dear mother. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not well, Mrs. Bruce," said the child, as she +took her friend's extended hand. +</p> + +<p> +"No, my dear, flesh and heart are failing; but 'God is +the strength of my heart, and my portion for +evermore.' While he is left, I am perfectly at peace." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked upon the placid face, and the sweet +smile of trusting faith that lit the features of her friend, +and thought how precious was that holy trust. +</p> + +<p> +"I know now, Mrs. Bruce, what you mean by looking +up; how happy you must be." +</p> + +<p> +"If I looked down upon myself, Maddy, with all my +weakness and sin; or if I looked upon my dear children, +who may soon be left motherless, my heart would sink; +but when I look upward at the rest in store for those who +love God, and at the sure promises to the children of the +righteous, I can even rejoice in tribulation, because, my +dear, they work patience, experience, and hope." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline glanced at Roland and Effie—the former was +regarding his mother with a look of loving reverence, as +though he partook of her lofty hope; but poor, delicate +Effie sat with her head bowed upon her hands, and the +big tears rolling down her sweet face. Madeline drew the +weeping child towards her, and, passing her arm around +her, whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"Don't cry so, Effie; your mother may get better, and +we will always be your friends." +</p> + +<p> +"I know that, Madeline; but where shall I ever find +another mother?" +</p> + +<p> +Maddy returned with a saddened spirit, for with all her +sanguine nature, she could not but fear that deep sorrow +was settling around the cottage household. Not a day +passed, without some little delicacy from Woodcliff; +sometimes by Madeline's own hand, or else sent by a servant. +</p> + +<p> +Lucy frequently accompanied her cousin in her visits, but +Lavinia never—she could not stoop to such a condescension. +</p> + +<p> +In all her letters to her father, Maddy never forgot her +humble friends, and, in return, Mr. Hamilton directed that +every comfort should be supplied to the declining mother. +</p> + +<p> +After a few weeks, Mrs. Bruce appeared to rally once +more, and hope revived the spirits of all who loved her. +Madeline especially was greatly elated, and was sure that +her dear friend was recovering. With the revival of her +hopes, her high spirits rose again. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be alarmed, Roland, your mother will soon recover," +and Maddy yielded to the delusion with full confidence. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was now called to bear a heavy burden, for the +support of the family fell chiefly upon him. Busy in their +little garden, he toiled with a cheerful spirit, and found his +donkey and cart a great treasure, for now he could go into +market three times a week with the produce of his little +plot of ground. It pained him sorely to leave school, but +duty called, and the obedient spirit submitted. The +delicacies from the Hall kept his mother well supplied, and +with the strong faith of a Gordon, he could labor, wait, and +even rejoice. The boy of seventeen, under the discipline +of trial, and the teaching of a holy mother, seemed to have +reached the maturity of riper years; and Mrs. Bruce felt +that she might lean upon him with affectionate trust, as the +instrument which God had chosen to cheer her declining +days. +</p> + +<p> +Autumn was now rapidly closing around them, and +Madeline, with her elastic step and bird-like voice, +frequently crossed the door-sill of the cottage, always lighting +it up with her bright, hopeful face, and leaving behind her +the sweet echoes of her own joyous nature. +</p> + +<p> +Full of hope for her friends, her merry spirit kept the +family all alive at the Hall. Her young friends were to +stay until Christmas, and Madeline promised them great +sport should there be snow enough for a sleigh-ride. +</p> + +<p> +Tony Willikins, her warm admirer at school, often stepped +in at Woodcliff to pay his respects, and having seen +Mademoiselle at church, and met her occasionally in her +walks with Madeline, that prankish little girl had contrived +to bring about quite an intimacy between the two. Many +a bouquet that was sent for Madeline was conveyed to +Mademoiselle, with Tony's compliments; and Tony himself +was often chagrined, on seeing the French teacher +innocently wearing the flowers intended for the roguish +child. +</p> + +<p> +Tony had somehow learned a few French phrases, and, +much to the amusement of our young friends, he made a +barbarous use of his slim stock of language, not at all +aware of his false pronunciation. +</p> + +<p> +His salutation of "Maddymorthelle," always set our +young friend in a titter; and his persevering efforts taxed +Mademoiselle's French politeness to the utmost. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Tony was a complete butt for Madeline and Lavinia, +and many a joke did they play upon the unconscious youth. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, Tony paid them a visit in what he +considered splendid costume. +</p> + +<p> +He had been told that small-clothes were to be the +fashion that winter, so, to be ahead of all others, had +ordered a new suit of clothes; and presented himself at +Woodcliff in black tights, with black silk stockings, pumps, +silver knee and shoe buckles, and, to crown all, a pair of +blue glasses, which he had been told was becoming; he +wore also a fancy-colored guard ribbon, and a diamond pin. +Tony thought himself irresistible; and when Madeline +entered the parlor, and saw the ludicrous figure, it was +next to impossible to restrain her laughter. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment, fortunately, Fanfan performed some of +her amusing pranks, which gave Maddy an opportunity of +indulging her risible faculties, and if Tony had not been +such a weak youth, he might have seen that the laugh +continued much longer than Fanfan's oft-repeated tricks +could call forth. +</p> + +<p> +"Mith Madeline, I want to thow you my new guard +ribbonth," and Tony opened a package which contained +every imaginable color. +</p> + +<p> +"Which do you think the prettieth, mith?" +</p> + +<p> +"I like blue; that is my favorite color." +</p> + +<p> +Immediately Tony changed his scarlet guard for a blue +one; and, much to the amusement of the young girls, he +continued, +</p> + +<p> +"Blue ith my color now." +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you sing, Tony?" asked Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Yeth, if Maddymorthelle will play for me. What +shall I thing, mith?" +</p> + +<p> +"'How can I leave thee!'" answered Madeline, with a +merry twinkle. +</p> + +<p> +"That is tho affecting, mith; I am afraid that I can't +get through it, but I'll try." +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle took her seat at the piano, and Tony commenced +with a lisping, languishing tone to sing. Madeline +was convulsed with laughter; and Tony, who saw her +handkerchief covering her face, thought that she was +deeply affected, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"We had better not finith the thong, Maddymorthelle; +it affecth Mith Maddyth' nervth." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline could stand no more; jumping up, she ran out +of the room to indulge her burst of laughter, which could +no longer be restrained. +</p> + +<p> +Lucy did not sympathize with the jokes played upon +Tony, for his weakness was his misfortune; and with her +correct principles, she could no more ridicule that, than she +could a blind, deaf, or lame man; but Madeline had not +yet learned to ask about the right or wrong of an action, +the impulses of the moment yet ruled the child. Sometimes, +the thought would cross her mind, that it might not +be just right, but the love of fun prevailed over her light +scruples. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +The cold increased, and one morning, Madeline ran into +Lavinia's room, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"Get up, Lavinia, here is a grand snow-storm! Now +for our promised ride." +</p> + +<p> +They watched the progress of the storm anxiously; all +day and night it continued, and by the next morning, the +sleighs began to fly around the neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment, a sleigh stopped, and Tony, dismounting, +invited the young ladies to take a ride. +</p> + +<p> +"I will call about four o'clock, and we will ride up to the +White Houth, take thupper, and return by moonlight." +</p> + +<p> +Maddy ran to her aunt to obtain her consent, which was +given on condition that she should make one of the party. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, at the appointed hour, furred, tippeted, and +well protected from the cold, our party set off in high glee. +</p> + +<p> +"You can manage those spirited horses, I hope, Tony?" +said Aunt Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be afraid, ma'am; I have driven them many a +mile, and never had an acthident yet." +</p> + +<p> +The ride was splendid, Madeline in wild spirits, and the +whole party affected by her merry sallies. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the White House, Tony ordered a supper, and, +after a lively dance in one of the parlors, in which all +joined but Lucy, they sat down to a nice supper, and then +started for home. +</p> + +<p> +There was a number of sleighs on the road, all travelling +at full speed; Tony's animals were not to be passed. A +large sleigh came dashing by. Tony tried to check the +wild animals, but all in vain—on they rushed. Miss +Matilda was in an agony of terror. +</p> + +<p> +Utterly unable to manage them, they galloped on madly, +till, bringing up on a snow-bank, they upset the party on +the road-side, and raced furiously on, until overtaken by +several men, who came to the rescue, and, after some time, +succeeded in quieting the excited horses. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Matilda was in a state of dreadful alarm; Mademoiselle +Fouladoux deploring the condition of little Fanfan, +who had accompanied the party; Madeline laughing at the +adventure; Lavinia provoked; and Lucy quietly awaiting +the return of Tony. +</p> + +<p> +When the youth at length appeared, Mademoiselle threw +up her hands, exclaiming, piteously, +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Monsieur Willikins! take us home; ma pauvre +Fanfan will take a dreadful cold." +</p> + +<p> +Tony wrapped the dog up in his foot muff, and proceeded +home as rapidly as they could go with safety. +</p> + +<p> +"We have had a jolly time, Mademoiselle," exclaimed +Madeline. "I think the upset was the best part; none of +us were hurt, and it was only a good joke after all." +</p> + +<p> +Little did Maddy know of the sorrow that was wringing +the young hearts at the cottage. Not having heard for +several days, the next morning Madeline started to see her +friends. On entering the house, no one was visible; all +was quiet, and she proceeded up stairs to the widow's +chamber. Propped up with pillows, with a face as pale as +the white sheet, and laboring for breath, she beheld her +humble friend. Effie was sitting on one side of the bed, +close to her mother, and Roland was reading the Bible to +his declining parent. +</p> + +<p> +"'Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, +believe also in me; in my Father's house are many +mansions.'" He stopped for one moment, but Madeline said, +"Go on, Roland;" and, with his own rich voice, he +proceeded to repeat a Psalm, "'I will lift up mine eyes unto +the hills from whence cometh my help.'" +</p> + +<p> +"My help cometh even from the Lord, who hath made +heaven and earth," responded the mother, with uplifted +eyes and hands clasped over her panting breast. +</p> + +<p> +"Come here, Madeline, my dear child," said the fading +Christian; "you see that it will not be long before I shall +go home, and be no more seen; but remember what I tell +you, that God is a sufficient refuge in this hour of trial, and +the Saviour of sinners my all in all!" +</p> + +<p> +"Can you look up still, dear Mrs. Bruce?" asked Madeline, +with deep solemnity. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my dear child; I know that he that keepeth Israel +shall neither slumber nor sleep. 'He will not suffer the +sun to smite thee by day, nor the moon by night,' that is +the promise, Maddy, and I believe it with all my heart; +'his rod and his staff they comfort me.'" +</p> + +<p> +"You will get better yet, Mrs. Bruce, I am sure," answered +the child, "for I know that Roland and Effie pray +for you, and God has promised to answer prayer." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he will answer us, when we ask with submission +to his will; his will now is made clear and plain, my days +on earth are drawing swiftly to a close. I am ready and +willing to depart and be with Jesus, which is far better +than to stay here; but to leave my darlings, Maddy, is a +sore trial. You will not forget them, dear, when I am +gone." +</p> + +<p> +"Forget your children! Never! I know none that I +love so well; and so long as I live, they will find me, little +Madeline, their true friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless you! my dear child, for those kind words; they +cheer my heart. I look upon them as an answer to my +prayer; for this morning there was an hour of darkness, +when I thought of them, especially of Effie; but now I can +keep my eyes fixed upon Heaven, and bid adieu forever to +earthly cares." +</p> + +<p> +Effie was weeping bitterly, her mother turned her face +towards her and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Do not distrust our Heavenly Father, my child; he +will comfort and sustain you; he has sent this dear little +friend to us in our hour of sorrow." Turning to Madeline, +she continued, "Tell your father, Maddy, that we shall +never forget his kindness; for weeks your family physician +has been attending me, sent by your father; he has done +all that he can, but vain is the help of man." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was deeply impressed by the lesson of that +solemn hour, for she had never been so near the presence +of death before. From that hour, she spared no pains to +administer to the comfort of her precious friend. +</p> + +<p> +Betty, the old cook, was a kind-hearted woman, and +daily prepared some little delicacy grateful to the invalid, +which Madeline and Lucy took with their own hands. +</p> + +<p> +Deep was the sorrow settling down upon the heart of +Roland Bruce; for his mother was parent, friend, guide—his +only earthly stay. When he looked into the wilderness +of life without his mother, it did indeed seem a desolate, +dreary waste. He sat looking upon the pale face regarding +him with such a look of unutterable love. +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, come sit by me; I have much to say to you +while I have strength to speak." +</p> + +<p> +He arose and seated himself close by his mother's side. +"You are seventeen now, my son, with almost the character +of a man; and, blessed be God! I believe that you +are his dear child." +</p> + +<p> +Roland took his mother's hand, and while tears rained +over it, he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"To you, dear mother, under God, I owe all that I am. +I can never forget the lessons of wisdom, truth, trust in +God, and heroic endurance that you have taught me by +examples from the Bible, from the world, and especially from +our own honored race." +</p> + +<p> +"You must never forget your lineage, Roland; you are +not descended from those who derive their greatness from +outward show, magnificent adornment, or the pomp and +equipage of courts. Your ancestors were trained in the +humble manse, in the lowly cottage, among the rude mountains +of Scotland, and their grandeur was moral only. They +were born in the days when to be a spiritual Christian was +to hold life very cheap—the spirit of those days has always +distinguished our race, for in every generation, there has +been a witness for God among the Gordons." +</p> + +<p> +"I have never forgotten it, mother," answered Roland. +"I think it is that which makes me think so little of the +pomp of this world. I have never felt at all impressed by +what I have seen at Woodcliff, because I contrast it all +with the humble tomb-stone in that Scottish glen, and with +all else that you have told me of the name of Gordon." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe, my son, that God destines you for something +good and great. Roland, remember what I mean by great; +not rich or grand in earthly goods, or even in intellectual +culture merely, but great in deeds of benefit to your race; +in order to reach that point, spare no pains to obtain a good +education." +</p> + +<p> +"How shall I, mother? it is what I long for; but I have +no money, no means, no influence. I am all alone." +</p> + +<p> +"Where there is a will, there is a way, Roland. I do +not wish you to have money or influential friends; I want +you to have trust in God; this is the motto I leave with +you, my son, 'Looking aloft;' remember it is your dying +mother's motto; when discouraged, turn to that, and I am +sure that you will prosper." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, mother! how shall I live without you? your voice +is like a trumpet to me; it stirs the very depths of my soul; +and when you speak, it seems as if I could dare anything. +I never shall forget my feelings when you bade me read +the inscription on the tomb-stone of our martyred ancestors; +my soul seemed to take a great leap, and really to swell +within my childish form. I felt as if I never could be low, +or mean, or grovelling after that, and so I feel to-day; but +what will it be when you are gone?" and Roland bowed +his head and wept. +</p> + +<p> +She laid her hand upon his head and said: "When I am +gone, Roland, these memories will be with you, I know, 'to +keep your soul from blight.' I have perfect confidence that +God will keep his promise to me, and to you; he will guide +you, I am sure; and though you may have sore trials, he +will sustain my Roland, and make him a blessing to the +world—too many twilight hours of consecration, too many +seasons of dedication has my Father witnessed when +Roland's name was itself a prayer, to allow one moment's +doubt—not one of those sacred hours will ever be forgotten +by our covenant-keeping God." +</p> + +<p> +"Ob, what I am losing in you, my mother!" +</p> + +<p> +"It is God's will, my son; perhaps by cutting you loose +from all earthly dependence, he designs to cast you wholly +upon himself—this is the way that you are to learn the +blessedness of 'looking aloft.' Think what others have +done who have risen from the humblest walks of life, and +do likewise; only let all be done for the glory of God, not +for your own exaltation, Roland. If it is ever in your +power, I wish you to visit your home in Scotland; you +have an aunt and cousin living there; there is some property +also, and I think that it will be to your advantage to +seek out your relations. There is an old friend of mine +whom I should like you to see, Malcolm Graham; he would +be a valuable friend. Above all things, get a good +education; stop at no sacrifice; shrink from no labor." +</p> + +<p> +Roland listened to his mother's words as though it were +a voice from Heaven, and to him it was; for the message +of that hour guided all his earthly destiny. He rose with +reverence; his feelings were too deep for utterance; +pressing a kiss on either cheek, and on the calm pale forehead, +he left the room, and bowed by his bed-side, poured out his +young soul in fervent prayer. +</p> + +<p> +"What has been done, by the blessing of God, shall be +done again," said Roland to himself—"'looking aloft,' +trusting in God, I can do all things." +</p> + +<p> +The resolution of that silent hour was sublime; it was +known to none but God; but doubtless a record was +entered in the book of God's remembrance which was never +blotted out, never revoked; and the name of Roland Bruce +was seen by angels signed to that recorded dedication, and +sealed by the precious blood of the Redeemer. +</p> + +<p> +From that day, the setting of life's sun to Mrs. Bruce was +slow, sure, but glorious. +</p> + +<p> +"One more charge, Roland," said the mother, after an +hour's converse; "be faithful to Effie; I need scarcely tell +you that; but she is a delicate flower, and must be tenderly +cherished, Roland; and after I am gone, in my top drawer, +tied with a black ribbon, you will see a package; it is for +you, Roland: I can trust you with your mother's history." +</p> + +<p> +Elsie Gibson had been absent for months from the +neighborhood, but one evening suddenly she appeared at the +cottage. She seemed much agitated on hearing how ill +Mrs. Bruce was, and asked to see her. +</p> + +<p> +Conducted to the dying chamber, and standing by the +bedside, she took the pale withered hand that lay upon the +bed-clothes, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Mary Bruce, this is a solemn hour; I trust that you are +at peace with God." +</p> + +<p> +"Blessed be my Saviour's name! I am; I have no fears +for the future, no anxiety for the present; death is +swallowed up in victory." +</p> + +<p> +"Is there any message that you would send to any of +your Scotch friends, Mary? I may go to Scotland ere long. +Is there anything upon your mind, Mary?" +</p> + +<p> +"There is no one near, Elsie, is there?" anxiously +inquired the invalid. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no one, Mary; we are all alone." +</p> + +<p> +"If you ever see my brother or any of my relations, give +my love, and tell them how happy were my dying moments—and +now, Elsie, you knew my husband in former days—do +you know that sometimes I have felt that he was not +dead. He was so singular, sometimes I thought he was +deranged; he became so gloomy in latter years, that I have +thought perhaps he is not dead; we never heard of it +certainly, and then the supplies which I received so long must +have come from him." +</p> + +<p> +"If he were alive, would you send him any message?" +</p> + +<p> +"I should like to tell him that I freely forgive any +unkindness which he showed to me. He had sore trials to +rend his heart, and so had I, Elsie. If he is alive, and has +forsaken his family, I forgive him that too; because, if he +is, I believe that it was done in an hour of great depression, +perhaps insanity." +</p> + +<p> +Elsie listened earnestly to these words; a faint smile +passed over her face, as she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I ken something o' your story, Mary; it was a sad one; +very much like the song o' 'Auld Robin Gray;' but your +sorrows are amaist owre, Mary; and on the ither side, a' +will be plain and clear." +</p> + +<p> +A few more days, and the ministering angel called for the +faithful mother, and bore her peacefully, happily, over the +swellings of Jordan, to the bosom of the Redeemer whom +she loved. +</p> + +<p> +Roland stood in the presence of the dead with solemn, +tender dignity; for he felt that no common loss was his in +parting with such a friend and counsellor in life's trials and +sorrows; but his hopes of reunion were so strong, so bright, +that time appeared but as a little span, at the end of which +he should again meet the spirit of that sainted parent. +</p> + +<p> +Effie was not so strong—poor, timid, loving child! It +seemed to her as if life would weep itself away in the first +burst of anguish that filled the chamber of the dead. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda undertook the expenses of the widow's +funeral, and the family at the Hall joined the humble +procession. +</p> + +<p> +Elsie Gibson was a sincere mourner, and made many +mysterious remarks which none could explain. +</p> + +<p> +About a week after the funeral, Roland and Effie bent +their steps to the village grave-yard. When they came in +sight of the grave, what was their surprise! to see Elsie +and a man wrapped up in a heavy cloak, in earnest +conversation. He stood with his handkerchief to his face, as +though deeply affected; but as soon as Elsie perceived the +approach of the two, she hurried away with her mysterious +companion. +</p> + +<p> +They were both surprised, and wondered who it could be +thus interested in their mother. They were paying their +last visit ere disposing of the furniture at the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda had offered Effie a home, where she was +to make herself useful with her needle. Roland was +preparing to obey his mother's request of seeking an +education. All was ready for his departure, and Madeline sent +for him to come up to the cemetery in the evening. When +reaching his mother's grave, there sat Madeline on the +humble mound, at the head of which was placed a simple +head-stone of white marble, with his mother's name and +age inscribed, with the sweet words, "Asleep in Jesus." +</p> + +<p> +"Is this your work, Madeline?" asked the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland; it was the last thing that I could do for +you; you have been a faithful friend to me, and it is a small +return." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot tell you, Madeline, how grateful I am for this +act of kindness; it was a trial to me to think that my +mother must lie in the grave without any sign to mark the +place of her burial." +</p> + +<p> +"When do you leave us, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Just as soon as my little stock at the cottage is disposed +of; it is of very little value, but after all our debts are paid, +what is left is for Effie, I can take care of myself. I shall +be all alone in the great world, Maddy, but it will be a +comfort to know that you, my little friend, will not forget +me." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's eyes filled with tears. "That cannot be, +Roland; all that I know of anything that is good and holy +began with you; when I first knew you, I scarcely knew +the difference between right and wrong." +</p> + +<p> +"There is one thing I want you to promise, Maddy, and +that is to read your Bible morning and evening, praying +for God to help you to understand what you read." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a small request, Roland, and I promise that I +will let nothing interfere with the duty." +</p> + +<p> +"May our Father bless you, Maddy, and have you always +in his holy keeping. I shall never cease to pray for +you." +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you going, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"To college, Maddy, where I hope to gain a classical +education. My mother charged me to strive for that, and +with my eyes fixed upon heaven, I hope to succeed." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you any money, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +The boy smiled as he replied, "In the bank of Heaven, +Maddy." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean by that, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I mean that there are promises made to God's children—dear +mother has always told me that God's word can +never fail—so his bank can never break, Maddy." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall miss you, Roland, when my naughty fits +come. I shall want you to show me how to conquer +myself." +</p> + +<p> +"You must not lean on any human arm; there is one +strong arm, Maddy; the one that conquered sin, Satan and +death." +</p> + +<p> +"That is Jesus, Roland. I wish that my faith in him +was just like yours." +</p> + +<p> +"Pray, Maddy, that he would give you faith; he is the +author and finisher of our faith. Do you remember any of +the little songs that I have taught you, Maddy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland, I remember them all; I shall get the +music, and learn them perfectly now." +</p> + +<p> +"Let us sing together our last song, Maddy," and Roland's +rich voice, with Madeline's sweet, clear notes, joined +in the dear old song, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Should auld acquaintance be forgot,<br> + And never brought to mind?<br> + Should auld acquaintance be forgot,<br> + In days o' lang syne!<br> + For auld lang syne, my Jo,<br> + For auld lang syne;<br> + We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,<br> + For auld lang syne."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Maddy's voice trembled, and ere they reached the last +verse she bowed her head and wept. +</p> + +<p> +Roland put his hand in his pocket, and drew out the +likeness which Madeline had brought from Boston for his +mother. +</p> + +<p> +"Here is the face of my kind little friend," said the boy, +"I shall often talk to it when far away." +</p> + +<p> +"I have nothing but the sea-weed and the shells to look +at, Roland; but in my heart the memory of all the wise +and precious things which you have taught me." +</p> + +<p> +"It is time for me to go now, Maddy. Good-bye; I am +sure that we shall meet again." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked up with such a bright smile through her +tears, and said. +</p> + +<p> +"Remember, Roland, what I have always said, that you +will come back to Woodcliff a great man; and I shall be +so glad to see the upstarts around us bowing down to +Roland Gordon Bruce, the son of poor widow Bruce. +Good-bye, Roland; I shall never forget the lessons of Maple +Lane School, or the happy days that we have spent +together." Giving her hand to Roland, they exchanged a +parting clasp, and Madeline turned to leave the cemetery. +</p> + +<p> +Roland sat down upon his mother's grave, and watched +the childish form until she was seen no more; then, bowing +his head upon his hands, he could no longer restrain the +silent tears that would chase each other down his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Thus fade my earthly friends," sighed the boy; "first +my mother, then Madeline, this precious little friend, then +Effie, my darling sister, next, and I shall be alone—a waif +upon the wide, wide world; but no, not a waif while God +lives and my Saviour reigns, for, blessed be his name! I +can trust him still." +</p> + +<p> +The little stock at the cottage was soon disposed of, and +after all their mother's debts were paid, nothing remained +but a few dollars, which Effie insisted Roland should take +with him in his first encounter with the world. Effie was +comfortably settled at Woodcliff, Roland stayed at old +Peter's cabin a day or two, and Lucy and Lavinia had +returned to Boston. +</p> + +<p> +"A letter from papa, dear aunt," exclaimed Maddy; "he +is in New York, and will be here to-night," and she was +nearly wild with delight. "Won't I surprise him with a +morning serenade on my harp!" and she had it brought +into the room adjoining her father's, that she might awake +him in the morning with her music. +</p> + +<p> +There was no more composure for Madeline during the +whole of that day—busy in her father's chamber, and in +the library to see that all was prepared for his comfort, +adding, as the last touch, some sweet flowers for both +rooms. Madeline tried to settle herself to some employment, +but all in vain, until she uncovered her harp; practising +some of her best pieces, she spent the rest of the +morning in preparing for her serenade. Evening at length +arrived, and with it her dear father. Folded once more in +his arms, Madeline was perfectly happy for the moments +following his arrival. +</p> + +<p> +The evening was spent in showing the beautiful things +that Mr. Hamilton had brought for Madeline and her aunt; +nor was Effie forgotten by the kind man. +</p> + +<p> +"Something will arrive to-morrow, Maddy, that I could +not bring with me, on account of its bulk; I know that it +will please you best of all." +</p> + +<p> +Handsome dresses, laces, gloves, and jewelry were +lavished upon the idolized child. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton was a happy man, once more seated in +the midst of his family—fatigued, he retired early to rest; +and, rising early in the morning, stood at his window to +enjoy the beauty of a magnificent sunrise. While quietly +looking upon the scene, he thought that he heard the sound +of very low, sweet music; for a moment, it ceased; and he +thought that he must have been mistaken; but again it +swelled out in deep rich chords of melody, accompanied by +a charming voice—it seemed very near, certainly in the +next room. Opening the door, what was his surprise to +see Madeline, in her night-dress, seated at a harp, +performing most delightfully, and singing a song of welcome for +her father. He listened in delighted silence until the close, +then exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +"Why, my daughter! what does all this mean? How +in the world did you accomplish all this without my +knowledge?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was commenced in Boston, papa; and during your +absence, I have applied myself diligently, determined to +surprise you." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, truly! I think that the fairies must have been +very busy, Maddy, both with you and me." +</p> + +<p> +"Why with you, dear papa? Have you been learning +too, without my knowledge?" +</p> + +<p> +"You will know to-day what I mean, dear; but really, +you could have done nothing that could have pleased me +better, than this pleasant surprise." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton seemed to be very frequently at the front +door, watching evidently for an arrival; at length, +Madeline's curiosity to know what was coming, was about to be +satisfied, for a wagon turned into the avenue, bringing a +very large and singularly-shaped packing-box. +</p> + +<p> +It was brought into the house and soon opened, when, +to Madeline's surprise, an elegant French harp appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Throwing her arms around her father's neck she exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, dear, dear, papa; this is just what I wanted! +How in the world did you know it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Did I not tell you, Maddy, that the fairies must have +been very busy? But, candidly, I have always intended +that you should study my favorite instrument, and have +brought you one of the finest that I could obtain in Paris." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it not delightful that I have been taking lessons, +papa? Now I can send away the old harp, and have my +own." +</p> + +<p> +For some weeks, Madeline was busily occupied with her +beautiful instrument; but Mr. Hamilton was obliged to +yield at last to the conviction, that he must part for a +few years with his darling child, if she was ever to be +properly educated for the sphere in which she was +destined to move, for, under the weak guidance of Aunt +Matilda, that could never be. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he could obtain the co-operation of good +Aunt Clara, a suitable boarding-school was solicited, and, +after due preparation, Madeline was sent from home, to +remain until her education should be completed. It was a +sore trial to both parent and child, and the parting nearly +overcame the resolution of the father, who could scarcely +endure the loneliness of Woodcliff without his darling. +Poor Effie would also be very lonely, but Aunt Matilda +was really kind at heart, and imposed nothing upon the +young girl, but what she was fully competent to perform. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XI. +<br><br> +A MOTHER'S LIFE SORROW. +</h3> + +<p> +Madeline had been gone for some days, and Roland +had nearly completed his arrangements. He saw much of +Effie, for the few remaining hours were precious to both. +</p> + +<p> +"Effie, meet me this evening in the cemetery, I wish to +read you our mother's manuscripts." +</p> + +<p> +Effie promised. The last evening had arrived, and the +orphans met upon their mother's grave, for the sad +farewell. Roland untied the black ribbon, and commenced +reading:— +</p> + +<p> +"When you read these lines, my dear children, my +mortal remains will be sleeping in the quiet grave, but I +myself shall be with Jesus, and that is enough of bliss for +an immortal spirit. I have thought it wise to make you +acquainted with the history of my early life. You know +that my father was the minister of the parish where I was +born. He was a wise and holy man, and gave me all the +advantages of a good education. My mother died when I +was young, but my Aunt Ellen, my father's sister, came to +take charge of the manse, and to bring up the motherless +children. She was an excellent woman, and faithfully +performed the part of a mother. +</p> + +<p> +"I had a cousin, named Malcolm Graham, to whom I +had been most tenderly attached from my earliest +childhood. We had roamed our native mountains, and sailed +upon our Scottish lakes together; we had walked from +earliest days to the house of God in company, had sang +from the same hymn-book, and had joined the church on the +same day. We sang the same Scottish songs, loved the +same wild stories of our martyred ancestors. In fine, we +were as one soul; no love was ever purer, holier, deeper +than that which filled our young hearts for each other. +</p> + +<p> +"My father and my aunt were blinded; they had been so +accustomed to look upon us as brother and sister, that +nothing could have surprised my father more, than when +Malcolm came to ask that the current of our lives might +henceforth flow in one calm, holy channel. +</p> + +<p> +"'It canna' be, Malcolm; you are owre near akin; I +could na' ask the Master's blessing upon sic a union.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh, Uncle Gordon, ye canna' break your Mary's +heart, by sic an answer?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Why did I na' ken this before? I might ha' seen it a'.' +</p> + +<p> +"Malcolm pleaded his cause earnestly; my father loved +us both tenderly. At the end of a week, he gave his +unwilling consent, on the ground that, as he had blindly +allowed the intimacy, he had not the heart to say nay, and +we were betrothed. +</p> + +<p> +"At the same time, Stephen Bruce, the son of my father's +most intimate friend, renewed his addresses, for since I +had grown to early womanhood, he had twice a-year, +offered his hand, and been refused. This was the man that +my father favored. He was a reserved and rather gloomy +man, but his love for me was an all-absorbing passion. +He had a good moral character, was well off in the world, +and moreover, was the son of my father's bosom friend. +Malcolm was poor in the possessions of the world, but +rich in all that could ennoble and dignify a man. There +was but little prospect of his rising in the world, in an +obscure part of Scotland. An opportunity offered for him +to enter upon a lucrative situation in China; he accepted; +my heart sank within me, for I felt that a wide ocean +would soon separate us, and I feared that I should never +see the face of Malcolm Graham again. +</p> + +<p> +"My father encouraged the step. I could see the secret +joy of Stephen Bruce, and I felt as if I could never +consent. But Malcolm was young and hopeful; he saw at +the end of his long exile, a sweet happy home among our +native mountains, where we should share life's joys and +sorrows; and, at last, I became reconciled to the thought. +</p> + +<p> +"We parted at the sweet trysting place where we had so +often met in the happy days of our young affection. On +the banks of the lake, near our quiet home, stood a clump +of old trees, whose branches dipped gracefully in the placid +water. +</p> + +<p> +"Thither we walked slowly to spend our last sad hours. +I wore the light blue snood of a Scottish maiden, which +somewhat confined my curls. +</p> + +<p> +"'Shall I hae one, Mary?' asked my cousin. +</p> + +<p> +"I cut one from my head, and tied it with a piece of the +blue ribbon of my snood. +</p> + +<p> +"Malcolm placed it in a little pocket-book, and laid it +away in his bosom. +</p> + +<p> +"After hours of silent weeping, he bade me farewell, and +I felt as if a load of lead sank down into my heart, as I +watched his retreating form until he vanished from my +sight. +</p> + +<p> +"For two years, letters came regularly; all bright, +encouraging, hopeful; he was fast acquiring a fortune, and would +return in another year. In the meanwhile, Stephen Bruce +increased his assiduities; I could not banish him from the +house, because he was the son of my father's friend. In +another year, a letter announced that Malcolm would sail +in the ship Neptune for Liverpool, and that I might expect +him in October, when I must be ready to fulfil my vow. I +was a happy creature then; all the intervening time was +passed in making my simple preparations. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Ellen was a thrifty housekeeper, and took great +pride in the quantity of bed and table-linen which her niece +must have. I was occupied chiefly with my wardrobe. My +father did not seem much rejoiced, for he had never given +up his Scotch prejudice against the marriage of first cousins; +but he was a man of too much integrity to break a given +promise. The summer passed, the falling leaves were +musical to me, for they brought October; the month passed, but +no news of the Neptune. November passed in the same +manner. December began to drag its cold and dreary days +along, but still no news. At length, one morning, my father +entered the family parlor with a grave countenance, and a +newspaper in his hand. 'Ellen, will you come into my +study?' said my father to my aunt. +</p> + +<p> +"My heart gave a sudden bound; for I had long been so +anxious, that even the fluttering of a leaf would affect me. +I saw my father's face; it was ominous. Aunt Ellen +returned, and sitting down by my side, she said, tenderly, +'Mary, can ye bear bad news?' +</p> + +<p> +"'What is it, Aunt Ellen?' I replied, starting to my feet; +'tell me, tell all; anything is better than suspense.' +</p> + +<p> +"She laid her hand upon my young head, and softly +smoothed the rippling hair that lay upon my forehead and +down my temples. +</p> + +<p> +"'The Neptune has foundered at sea, Mary, and Malcolm +Graham is among the missing.' +</p> + +<p> +"I heard no more; for hours I lay stunned and insensible; +for weeks, between life and death. At length, a good +constitution, under the direction of a wise but inscrutable +Providence, triumphed, and I awoke to take up the duties +of my daily life with a sad and chastened spirit. +</p> + +<p> +"My father redoubled his kindness; but it was evident +that Malcolm's removal was a relief. +</p> + +<p> +"The only request I made was: 'Do not allow Stephen +Bruce to visit the manse; I could not bear it.' +</p> + +<p> +"My request was complied with. During all this time, I +never wholly lost my hope; I would say to myself: 'Among +the missing, not the lost; Malcolm may yet be alive.' +</p> + +<p> +"Two years of silent sorrow passed—the light of my life +had gone out. I busied myself about my father's house, +my brother's clothes, and in the duties belonging to me, as +the minister's daughter; but joy had passed away. +</p> + +<p> +"I seldom saw Stephen Bruce, excepting at church; but I +knew that my father visited him. Occasionally I met him +by the road-side, but he never joined me. +</p> + +<p> +"This delicacy of conduct gained my respect; and when +my father at last requested, for his own sake, that the son +of his old friend might visit him, I consented; for my father +had been very kind to me. +</p> + +<p> +"He came occasionally, was always polite and respectful +to me, nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +"At the close of the third year, after Malcolm's loss, my +father called me to him, and said: 'My daughter, I hae +tried to be considerate and kind to ye; I hae placed nae +compulsion upon your inclinations; now, I hae ane request to +make; will ye not allow Stephen to renew his addresses? +He is just as devoted to you as ever; he has luved ye +faithfully for ten years, ever since yer childish days. If +his devotion and worth can na overcome yer repugnance, +or rather indifference, I hae nae mair to say; but it would +please yer father if ye would allow him to renew his visits +to ye personally.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Give me a week to think of it, father; that is all I ask.' +</p> + +<p> +"At the end of that time, I agreed to my father's proposal. +I felt that all my love was in the deep ocean buried with +Malcolm Graham, and that duty must henceforth rule my +life; to please my father only, I consented. Stephen was +very considerate, but I saw that the same devotion filled +his heart. He was so anxious to please, so humble, so +undemonstrative, that I could not but pity him. I treated +him with kindness, and sometimes even with tenderness; +then he was so grateful for the smallest act, that it touched +my woman's heart. +</p> + +<p> +"At last, when in trembling tones he ventured once more +to urge his suit, I did not discourage him; I simply told +him to wait. +"'Bless ye, Mary! e'en for that,' was the grateful answer. +</p> + +<p> +"At the close of the fourth year, I consented to become +his wife. He wept in the fulness of his joy, and my father +was happy; but the name of Malcolm Graham could never +be mentioned in his presence. If by chance it was, dark +frowns would lower on his brow, and it was at all times a +forbidden subject. +</p> + +<p> +"He was a kind husband, and I tried to be a faithful wife; +but in the twilight gloaming there were times when the +memory of my cousin poured over my heart like a flood. +</p> + +<p> +"The next year after our marriage, you were sent, Roland, +to form a new tie between us. You were a lovely babe, +and your mother was proud of the sweet infant that smiled +upon her from his cradle. +</p> + +<p> +"Stephen Bruce was a handsome man, Roland, and you +were like him; the same profusion of dark hair, the same +dark eyes; but there was always about you, Roland, an +open frankness, that never characterized your father. He +was constitutionally reserved and taciturn, often gloomy. +</p> + +<p> +"Our married life flowed smoothly along for two years. +We lived at the manse; for my father could not part from +his only daughter. He was very fond of little Roland, and +the presence of a baby in the house was a sunbeam across +his path. +</p> + +<p> +"One very stormy winter evening, I was rocking my little +boy to sleep, singing some sweet cradle-song. The wind +howled fearfully without, and the snow came down in heavy +drifts. I heard a footstep on the little porch in front of the +manse; it seemed to be a man knocking off the snow before +entering. +</p> + +<p> +"The family dog gave a familiar bark of joy, and a voice +that I thought drowned in the deep ocean said: 'Down, +Shep! down, sir.' My heart stood still. The next +moment, the door opened, and Malcolm Graham stood before +me. He extended his arms. +</p> + +<p> +"'Mary! Mary!' he cried, 'hae ye na welcome?' +</p> + +<p> +"I started to my feet; I am sure that my eyes must have +glared with terror. I sank upon the chair by the side of +the cradle, and pressing my hand upon my heart, continued +gazing. I was speechless with terror and grief. +</p> + +<p> +"'What is in that cradle, Mary?' +</p> + +<p> +"'It is my child, my babe, Malcolm.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Tell me its name, Mary Gordon.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Roland Gordon Bruce,' I answered, in trembling tones. +</p> + +<p> +"He struck his head with both his hands in anguish—'Hae +I come home for this? Oh, Mary! how could ye +sae forget me?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I thought you dead, Malcolm; and by this marriage, I +have made my father happy.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Look here, Mary!' said the wretched man. Opening +his vest, he took out an old worn pocket-book, from which +he drew the lock of golden hair, tied with the faded ribbon +of the maiden's snood, that I gave him on the night of our +parting. +</p> + +<p> +"'I hae never parted with it, Mary, and it shall go wi' me +to my grave.' +</p> + +<p> +"I was near fainting; no words can paint the anguish of +that hour. +</p> + +<p> +"'Go, Malcolm, go; you must not be seen here. I cannot +even shelter you from the storm. I can pray for you, +Malcolm, but we must meet no more.' +</p> + +<p> +"My cousin advanced—before I could prevent it, he +clasped me to his bosom, pressed one last kiss upon my icy +forehead, and in another minute was gone. +</p> + +<p> +"Alas! alas! just as he passed out, my husband entered. +He knew him—it was Malcolm Graham, the one whom he +had always feared as his rival in the affections of the one +he loved. +</p> + +<p> +"'How dare he enter this house?' was the first salutation. +</p> + +<p> +"'He thought that I lived here yet as Mary Gordon, +husband. You have no reason to fear either him or her whom +you call by the sacred name of wife.' +</p> + +<p> +"He was pale with anger; fire shot from his dark eyes. I +was terrified. I walked up to Stephen Bruce, and laid my +hand upon his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"'Stephen, am I not your wedded wife? wedded in the +sight of Heaven! do you think that I, Mary Gordon, the +descendant of heroic martyrs, can ever forget her plighted +faith, plighted before God's holy altar?' +</p> + +<p> +"'No, Mary, you will not forget your duty as a wife; but +your heart is wi' Malcolm Graham, your early luve.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Stephen, Malcolm is dead to me—we shall never meet +again. I do not wish him to cross our path.' +</p> + +<p> +"From that hour our domestic peace was at an end. The +family malady had certainly made its appearance in the case +of my unhappy husband. I was kind, affectionate, attentive +to all his wants. I hushed the voice of memory, and +learned to be even cheerful in the performance of daily duties. +I looked upward daily, hourly, Roland, and I was sustained +in my hour of trial. +</p> + +<p> +"I begged my father to see Malcolm, and tell him to keep +out of my husband's way. He explained all to the +unhappy man, and related his sad story. +</p> + +<p> +"He had been wrecked, taken prisoner, and landed in +Algiers, without the possibility of communicating one line to +his friends. +</p> + +<p> +"In company with six others, after an absence of seven +years, he had made his escape. He promised my father to +leave the country, for he saw that with the fancy which +had seized my husband's brain, nothing else could restore +domestic harmony. Accordingly he went, but the evening +before, I was sitting in the parlor of the manse. It was +autumn—the windows were open, and I was alone. I saw +the figure of a man walking slowly up the path that led to +the house. He crossed the porch, and for one minute, stood +gazing in at the window. It was Malcolm Graham. He +held up once more the golden lock. +</p> + +<p> +"'Farewell, Mary; I cannot gae without your blessing.' +</p> + +<p> +"'God bless you forever and ever,' was the reply which +burst from my trembling lips. He walked hastily away, +stood at the gate for one moment, waved his hand, and was +gone. +</p> + +<p> +"I hoped for peace now that he had left the country. +While he was in Scotland, your father would sit for hours +gloomy and silent without exchanging a word; then he +would suddenly take his hat, and set out to search for +Malcolm, imagining that he was always lurking about the +manse. And even after he had gone, I could not regain +his confidence. +</p> + +<p> +"The memory of my poor cousin was the shadow in your +father's life, the ghost that haunted him day and night. +</p> + +<p> +"Malcolm was gone for several years, but your father +never wholly recovered his spirits. +</p> + +<p> +"In the meanwhile, Effie was born, and the duties of +daughter, wife and mother fully engrossed my daily life. +</p> + +<p> +"When you were about nine years old, Malcolm suddenly +returned. He was now a rich man; he bought a home, +furnished it, and took home a widowed sister and child to +preside over his household. +</p> + +<p> +"Life had disciplined his Christian character; he was +cheerful and serene. It made me happy to hear that he +was foremost in all the schemes for good around the +neighborhood, and the name of Malcolm Graham was everywhere +revered. +</p> + +<p> +"He was often called 'the good old bachelor,' for though +many mammas would have liked to place their daughters +at the head of his establishment, it was evident that no +such thoughts ever disturbed the dreams of 'good Uncle +Malcolm.' +</p> + +<p> +"From the time that he returned, your father's gloom and +restlessness increased. The mania had seized upon him +again, and nothing would do, but that the wide ocean must +separate his wife from the country where Malcolm lived, +although we had no kind of social intercourse. We met at +church, and that was all. Much to my aged father's grief, +hasty preparations were made to go to America. +</p> + +<p> +"He was devoted to me and my dear children, and could +not bear the thoughts of my leaving home and dear friends +to embark upon the ocean, and go to seek a home in a +strange country, with a man so gloomy and suspicious as +your father had become. +</p> + +<p> +"But during all these trials, my God sustained me, and +while conscious of being in the path of duty, I was even +cheerful. +</p> + +<p> +"We left Scotland; for awhile we lived comfortably, and +your father's malady seemed to diminish. One drawback +there was always to my happiness, and that was, that your +father seemed so anxious to break up all connection with +Scotland, that I was not allowed to write home for months, +for fear that I should hear something about Malcolm. +</p> + +<p> +"At length he returned to Scotland, for the purpose of +settling his affairs, and making America his permanent home. +On the voyage back again, the vessel was lost, and no word +was ever heard from him again. +</p> + +<p> +"About this time, poor Elsie Gibson appeared among us. +I never could understand why or how it was, but she always +seemed acquainted with our affairs, and interested in all +that concerned us. There came regular remittances, they +seemed to come from New York, and were left at our door in +the evening. At last I observed that Elsie Gibson appeared +among us in a day or two after these packages came, and +always contrived to find out about their safe arrival. At +last they ceased altogether, and then came the days of +poverty and trial, which you, my darlings, have patiently +shared. I wrote home frequently, but received no answers. +</p> + +<p> +"Several times there have been mysterious visits at night +around our dwelling; once or twice have I seen the figure +of a man peeping in at our window, and many other +circumstances have led me to conjecture that your father may +yet be alive, and that Elsie Gibson knows something about +him. She told me that your dear grandfather died soon +after your father disappeared, and although we heard once +or twice from Aunt Ellen, that ceased also, and I fear that +she is no more. +</p> + +<p> +"If it is in your power, Roland, I wish you to seek your +friends in Scotland; there must be some left. I have told +you this sad story, my dear children, first because I want +to warn you both of forming connections for life, with any +one, for any other reason save that of deliberate heartfelt +choice. I acted from what I supposed to be duty; it was +productive of happiness to none concerned. +</p> + +<p> +"And another reason is, that by telling you my supposition +that your father may yet be alive, Roland may try all +that is in his power to find out the truth, and to comfort +that afflicted parent, for if he is in the land of the living, +he is in sorrow, of that I am sure. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing beside death could separate him so permanently +from us, but the malady which I have always +dreaded. And now, my dear children, let me once more +bid you, in every hour of sore affliction through which you +may be called to pass, look upward; upward for direction, +upward for comfort, upward for hope. God is 'the Father +of the fatherless;' remember the sweet promise, 'When +my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will +take me up.' I can leave you in his gracious care. 'May +he guide you with his counsel here, and, after that, receive +you to glory.' +</p> + +<p> +"I have done with earthly care and sorrow. I wait for +you, my loved ones; I know that you will come to me, and +that with our precious Saviour throughout eternity we shall +rejoice as much in the sorrows that we have suffered, as in +the joys vouchsafed, if they have helped to bring us home +to glory. +</p> + +<p> +"I need not say, do not forget your mother; I know that +you will not. Keep close to your Saviour. Let your motto +always be, 'Looking aloft,' 'Looking aloft;' through joy +and through sorrow, still 'Looking aloft.'" +</p> + +<p> +After closing the manuscript, both the orphans sat +weeping upon their mother's grave. +</p> + +<p> +"How quietly she sleeps! dear, tried, and patient +mother!" said Roland. "How blessed is her rest in that +world of peace and love! Do not weep so, Effie, God is +in Heaven; do not lose sight of his promises; have they +ever failed, dear sister? He will take care of us, he will +guide us, I know, if we put our trust in him." +</p> + +<p> +"I am so weak, Roland; since I have lost our mother, +I feel as if I was all alone in the wide world; and now you +are going too." +</p> + +<p> +"But I shall come back, Effie; I may have a great many +trials and disappointments, but I can trust the hand that +guided Noah, and Daniel, and Elijah, that delivered Peter, +and so many of his dear servants; and Effie, don't let us +doubt his love, when, to make the promises sure, he gave +up his dear Son, and nailed him to the cross to make his +word, 'Yea and Amen.'" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll try, Roland, to be trustful as you; but I am a weak +and timid disciple." +</p> + +<p> +"Just think, Effie, that every drop of precious blood was +just like setting the seal to all the blessed promises; and +do you believe that the Saviour who could die for us would +ever forget us?" +</p> + +<p> +"How you comfort me, Roland; your words are always +so kind, so strong." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't let us forget our sainted mother's motto, Effie, +'Looking aloft!' Oh, what blessedness in such a holy trust!" +</p> + +<p> +While seated thus, Roland perceived Elsie Gibson +advancing towards them. When any change was about to +take place in their earthly destiny, there was always the +same old friend. They could not fathom the mystery; but +so it was. +</p> + +<p> +"And sae ye are aboot to leave us, Roland," said the old +woman; "ye are the chiel o' mony prayers, and belang to +the race o' the righteous. I dinna fear for ye, my bairn." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not fear, Elsie; I am almost penniless, but the +promises are all the same." +</p> + +<p> +"I hae something for ye, Roland," continued the old +woman, and taking a gold watch from her pocket, she +continued, "It is your ain; dinna part with it, my son." +</p> + +<p> +Roland examined it, and found inside the case the initials +of S.B. It was a handsome article, and Roland's wonder +was unbounded. S.B., what could that mean? And +how was it that Elsie Gibson, so poor a woman, could afford +to give him a watch? +</p> + +<p> +"Where did this watch come from?" asked Roland, "and +what right have I to such a gift?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dinna fash yoursel aboot it, Roland; it is by right your +ain, and some day ye'll ken how——. I shall like to hear +o' your welfare, my dear bairn." +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, Elsie, for your kindness to us all. God +will bless you, I am sure." +</p> + +<p> +"May the widow's God be wi' ye, Roland, thro' a' your +wanderings in the wilderness," and shaking hands warmly +with both the orphans, she vanished from the cemetery. +None had ever traced the old woman to her home, if home +she had. +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell now, Effie," said her brother, as he folded his +sister in a warm embrace. +</p> + +<p> +She could not speak, but lay on his bosom overpowered +with the grief of parting. +</p> + +<p> +"Take me home, Roland," said the poor child, and they +walked in silence to the gate at Woodcliff. One more +embrace in silence, one long, agonized kiss, and Effie turned +up the avenue with a heart too full for utterance. +</p> + +<p> +Mother, brother, Madeline—all gone. Nothing was left +to the desolate orphan but her Father in Heaven. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XII. +<br><br> +STARS IN THE NIGHT SEASON. +</h3> + +<p> +Out on the wide, wide world. Roland could not but +feel the loneliness, as at the early dawn, with nothing but a +few clothes packed up in an old carpet bag, and a few +dollars in his pocket, he turned his face away from what had +once been home. It had cost him, youth that he was, many +an anxious thought and weary hour of toil, to help to keep +it up; but it was the dear spot where a mother smiled and +a sister cheered his return. +</p> + +<p> +He had paid his last visit, fastened the cottage windows, +locked the door, and turned to leave the little home. But +what is that lying on the front porch? it looks like a familiar +object. He stoops to pick it up. It is a little book that +his mother daily used, "Clark on the Promises." Many a +pencil mark is on its pages, and many a finger print pressed +there by a hand that lies mouldering in the grave. He lays +it away among his treasures, and turns his footsteps towards +the sea-shore. +</p> + +<p> +The lonely dashing of the waters at that early hour +sounded so drearily, and recalled most forcibly the beautiful +lines of Tennyson. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Break, break, break,<br> + On thy cold gray stones, oh sea!<br> + And I would that my tongue could utter<br> + The thoughts that arise in me.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "O, well for the fisherman's boy<br> + That he shouts with his sister at play!<br> + O, well for the sailor lad,<br> + That he sings in his boat on the bay<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "And the stately ships go on,<br> + To their haven under the hill,<br> + But oh, for the touch of a vanished hand!<br> + And the sound of a voice that is still.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Break, break, break,<br> + At the foot of thy crags, oh sea!<br> + But the tender grace of a day that is dead,<br> + Will never come back to me."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +He mounted the rock once more, leaned against the +flagstaff, and looked out dreamily upon the wide expanse of +ocean, emblem to him of the untried world beyond. Then +he turned to look upon the spot where he had first seen +Madeline in all her childish grace. It had been a sweet +dream with which to commence his young life—a peep into +a home of elegance and refinement—a year's communion +with a fresh young spirit, so free, so wild, so guileless. +Some pleasant thoughts stirred in the soul of the youth, +and caused a smile to flit across his face, as he felt that +perhaps he might have awakened in that bright child some +incipient longings after a better life. +</p> + +<p> +Then his thoughts turned to the reality; the hard, stern +reality, the battle of life, so soon to commence. +</p> + +<p> +"These bright things are not for me," sighed Roland; +"they might enervate my character. God knows that it +will be better schooled in the path which strikes the steel +within. What a precious talisman my dear mother has +left me, 'Looking aloft!' upward where I see the works of +the Creator, the smiles of God; upward, where I see the +path trodden by all the good and great of the earth; you +shall never be ashamed of your son, mother." The word +"mother" was spoken audibly, the holy name stirred up +the depths of Roland's soul, and he wept aloud. +</p> + +<p> +It was but a moment of indulgence; for, taking up his +carpet-bag, he commenced his journey on foot. And +whither? like faithful Abraham, he went out, not knowing +whither he went. +</p> + +<p> +He had heard of a neighboring college about one hundred +and fifty miles off, where the President, himself a self-made +man, had sympathy with struggling aspirants. +</p> + +<p> +"I can but try," thought the youth; "I'll go trusting, +and I may succeed." +</p> + +<p> +All day long he journeyed with a springing, elastic step, +for hope was strong within him. He stopped to take his +meals, and to read a verse or two in his mother's precious +book of the promises. When evening approached, Roland +began to cast about for a night's lodging. He did not +want to spend his money, he had so little; that he must +keep for his books. But what to do? He could not sleep +out upon the ground, it was too cold. +</p> + +<p> +Not far off, he perceived a neat-looking farm-house. +Two or three children were playing about in the front +lawn; the mother, a pleasant looking woman, came to the +door, and with such a kind, cheerful voice called in her +little ones to tea, that Roland felt she will not refuse me a +place in her barn. I can but ask. He walked directly up +to the front door with a firm, manly step, and knocked. +The mistress of the house appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"I called to ask, ma'am, if you will allow me to sleep in +your barn to-night; I have walked twenty miles to-day, +and have no place where to rest." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Romaine was really a kind woman, but here was a +stranger, "Would it be safe?" +</p> + +<p> +"Where is thee going, my boy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am on my road to College, ma'am, and I have yet +one hundred and thirty miles to travel." +</p> + +<p> +"Going to College, my son, and no means to pay for a +night's lodging; thee must be a brave boy to start on such +an errand." +</p> + +<p> +"My mother told me to stop at nothing to get a good +education; it was on her death-bed, madam, and I will do +any thing to obtain such a blessing." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't thee know it takes money to go through college? +But thee must be tired; come, sit down, my son; what is +thy name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Roland Bruce." +</p> + +<p> +"How does thee expect to get through, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can work, madam," said Roland, with a bright smile. +"I am very strong, and very willing; and I have my +mother's motto to work by." +</p> + +<p> +"What is that, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Looking aloft,' madam; it is a strong tower." +</p> + +<p> +He was in New England, where sympathy with one +thus anxious was sure to meet a response. +</p> + +<p> +"Thee can stay with us, Roland, to-night, but not in a +barn; we have a little room where thee can sleep. But +come in, thee must be hungry." +</p> + +<p> +And the kind woman led her guest out to the tea-table, +where a comfortable repast was already spread. +</p> + +<p> +"What can thee do, Roland, in the way of work?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can make fires, black boots, saw wood, etc.; and, I +suppose that there must be plenty of such work in a college." +</p> + +<p> +"But suppose the boys look down upon thee, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can afford to let them, if I get all the knowledge I +want; they won't do it always; I am above getting angry +at them, madam." +</p> + +<p> +"Thee is a strange boy, Roland; so humble, and yet so +proud, too." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid that there is not so much humility as there +seems to be about me; for all this stooping down is but to +rise at last; I shall be thinking of that all the time." +</p> + +<p> +"When thee is ready, I will show thee thy room, +Roland." +</p> + +<p> +They sat and chatted pleasantly for another hour, and, +when Roland saw the family making preparations for +retiring, he followed his kind hostess to a snug little room, +opening out on a front balcony. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was too full of earnest thought for sleep; so, +taking a chair, he seated himself alone on the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +The family had all retired; quiet reigned around. It +was a clear, cold night, and the bright stars shone out, and +spangled the heavens with their radiant constellations +Roland looked upward, and listened to their voiceless +eloquence. +</p> + +<p> +How long had they continued their silent march of glory? +</p> + +<p> +Centuries had rolled by, and year after year had they +travelled the same wondrous circles, with the same marvellous +precision. The north star had pointed the mariner +on the stormy deep, to his desired haven. Orion, with his +glorious belt of stars, on the same day of the month, at +the same hour, might ever be seen in the same point of the +heavens; the beauteous Pleiades, obedient too, wheeled in +their wondrous course. Ursa Major, at all times, might be +looked upon as a familiar friend; and amid them all, the +grand planets had joined the mysterious dance of the +universe. Orbit within orbit, sun beyond sun, each the centre +of other solar systems, had wheeled into their wondrous +revolutions; obedient to the same laws, without confusion, +without noise, (for great works are ever noiseless,) from +century to century; and to-night, guided by the same +Omnipotent hand, amid the unceasing silent whirl, Roland +sits and listens to their eloquent teachings. +</p> + +<p> +"These are material things," thought Roland, "destined +at last to be rolled up like a scroll and pass away, but I am +an immortal. These transient orbs are the objects of His +unceasing care, and shall I, an immortal being, fear to trust +my all in His wise and gracious hands? His providence, with +its myriad of wheels, is just as surely guided as are these +heavenly orbs. I remember the night when my mother +showed me these bright constellations, and the very lesson +that she taught me. I can look upward to-night, and +recall it all. Stars in the night season speak comforting +words. It seemed dark night when I left Woodcliff, but +the stars are shining around my path, as well as in the +heavens; for was it not the good providence of God that +led me to this sweet chamber, when all I hoped for was a +barn?" +</p> + +<p> +Thus communed Roland with the starry heavens, and, +after having committed himself in perfect trust to the care +of his Heavenly Father, he laid him down and slept in +peace. "So he giveth his beloved sleep." +</p> + +<p> +By the dawn of day he was astir, and after an early +breakfast, prepared once more for his journey. +</p> + +<p> +"Thee will have a pleasant day, Roland; it is clear and +cold, and bracing to a young frame like thine." +</p> + +<p> +Roland bade his kind hostess good-bye with a grateful +heart. +</p> + +<p> +"You have cheered me with your kind words, Mrs. Romaine, +and the blessing of the orphan's God will be upon +you." +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell, Roland; I hope thee will be successful; many +of our great men have started just as thee has." +</p> + +<p> +Roland did not draw upon his provisions again until the +middle of the day, when to his surprise he found that a +large stock of substantials had been added to his store. +</p> + +<p> +Twice in the course of his journey he slept in a barn; +he had met with some rough treatment, but enough of +kindness to show that a good Providence was guiding his +steps. +</p> + +<p> +At the close of the sixth day, Roland came in sight of +the college walls. +</p> + +<p> +A number of the students were strolling on the lawn in +front of the building. Several scrutinized him closely, but +Roland walked steadily forward, with head erect, and firm +step. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, I say, Charley, what do you think of the new +arrival?" said George Stanley to a companion; "extensive +trunks, hey!" +</p> + +<p> +Roland turned a moment; there was something in his +eye that Charley did not relish, and he moved away. +</p> + +<p> +At length he reached the President's room, and was +directed to be seated. +</p> + +<p> +After a short time, a small man, with rather an +uninviting aspect, appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"What is your business, my boy?" asked the President. +</p> + +<p> +"I am seeking an education, sir," replied Roland, in a +direct, straight-forward manner. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is your father, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have none, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Your mother?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am an orphan, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Your friends? I mean responsible persons, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"I have none, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Your means?" +</p> + +<p> +"None at all, but these hands, feet, and head, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid that we cannot take you." +</p> + +<p> +"I will do anything, sir; I will saw wood, make fires, +black shoes, anything but cheat, sir. I won't say that I +can pay you, as some might promise, for I never can." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Kingsley was an eccentric, but a really noble-hearted +man; he had taken one glance at Roland which had interested +him, and his questions had been put to try him. +</p> + +<p> +He had marked the fine dark eye, the expansive brow, +and the sweet, but firm-set mouth; he had listened to the +straight-forward appeal of the youth; it brought back his +own early struggles, and he felt as if such a boy had a right +to an education of the highest order. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you aware, my young friend, how trying is the position +which you propose? If you are mentally and morally +superior, are you willing to be treated as an inferior, and +perhaps sometimes scorned?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can brush away gnats, sir," replied Roland, with an +expressive toss of his hand; "for I am a Scotch boy, with +Scotch pride enough to sustain me. If they scorn me for +doing right, what care I?" +</p> + +<p> +"What is your name, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Roland Gordon Bruce, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"A fine name—the Gordons were distinguished among +Scottish martyrs, if I mistake not." +</p> + +<p> +"They were, sir; and I trust that I shall never dishonor +the name I bear." +</p> + +<p> +"You can come, Roland," said Dr. Kingsley, in a softer +tone of voice. +</p> + +<p> +Roland had endured the hard tone of scrutiny with +calmness; but the free consent was more than he could bear. +He rose suddenly to his feet, seized Dr. Kingsley's hand, +and with a glowing cheek, and eye suffused with feeling, +exclaimed— +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, dear sir; I have no words to express all +that I feel." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Kingsley turned his head away, for he did not care +that Roland should see his emotion, but continued— +</p> + +<p> +"Where is your baggage, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is there, Dr. Kingsley," said the boy, smiling, and +pointing to his carpet-bag; "that contains all my worldly +goods." +</p> + +<p> +"And where are your books, Roland? that is an expensive +item," continued the President. +</p> + +<p> +"I have none, sir. I have about five dollars, sir; will +that suffice?" +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Kingsley had a sudden call for his handkerchief. +Blowing his nose violently, he recovered his equanimity. +</p> + +<p> +He sent for the Janitor—"Show this boy to the small +attic room, No. 70, and see that he is well attended to, +Mr. James. Remain here one moment, Roland;" and the good +man hurried Mr. James out into the hall—"Be kind to this +boy; he is made of noble stuff—don't let the fellows impose +upon him; he is poor as a church mouse; but he is proud, +and brave as a lion." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. James conducted Roland to his little attic, where he +soon deposited his worldly goods; and at the ringing of the +supper-bell, made his first appearance among the world of +students. He took a seat appointed at the foot of the room, +at a side-table, among the younger boys, and glanced around +him. His clothes were mean and shabby, compared with +any by whom he was surrounded; but there was a quiet +manly air of independence, as he sat with head thrown +back, one arm leaning upon the table, and a calm straight-forward +look in his eagle eye, that repelled insolence; and +Roland was allowed to sit among them in silence, but +without any welcome from the boys. +</p> + +<p> +After supper, as it was yet the time of freedom, many +of the students strolled out upon the lawn. Roland took +his seat under a large oak tree, alone in the great crowd. +</p> + +<p> +A handsome boy, dressed in the height of fashion, +advanced towards our novice. +</p> + +<p> +"You look lonely, sir; may I ask your name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Roland Bruce—and yours?" +</p> + +<p> +"Edmund Norris. Now come and take a stroll with me." +</p> + +<p> +Roland joined his young companion. Several of the boys +tittered at the patronage. +</p> + +<p> +"Ned can do as he pleases," said George Stanley; "but +I am a little more cautious about my acquaintances; I dare +say he is only a charity boy; I saw the poor, mean +carpetbag that he brought." +</p> + +<p> +Edmund Norris was a petted child of wealthy parents, +but he had a warm, noble heart; and remembered the day +when he came as a stranger among so many. His great +fault of character was want of firmness, easily led, and +generous to a fault; consequently, he was a great favorite—a +dangerous distinction for a college boy, with plenty of +money. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll soon get acquainted with the boys that are worth +knowing," said Edmund. +</p> + +<p> +"I came only to study," answered Roland; "so that I +can have my books and a quiet corner, I care not for the +roughness of outward circumstances." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll find Dr. Kingsley a fine old fellow; he's hard +upon us lazy ones, keen-eyed as a fox, none need try to +deceive him." +</p> + +<p> +"I like his few words, and kind deeds," answered Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't get home-sick—that is a horrid feeling, and all +have it at first. I dare say when you go to your room, +you will go to sleep with moistened cheek, thinking of +mother and home." +</p> + +<p> +"I have neither home nor mother; I am almost alone in +this wide, wide world—none but a sister can I claim in +America—good night, Mr. Norris." +</p> + +<p> +Roland returned to his room with a grateful heart. +Another star had arisen upon his night-season, and, as he +looked out upon the spangled heavens, they seemed to +smile upon the bright young aspirant, as he sank to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, his examination took place, his studies +were appointed, and his duties in the house defined. +</p> + +<p> +When he took the boots the first time from the students' +doors, many of them were in the passage. +</p> + +<p> +"I told you that he was only a charity student," said +George Stanley; "he's to be our boot-black, I see—it's a +capital joke, by jingo! with his princely airs." +</p> + +<p> +But though performing these menial offices, his deportment +in the class-rooms, and his superior recitations, +commanded respect, in spite of the slurs cast upon him by +mean spirits. +</p> + +<p> +He had marked out his course, notwithstanding all that +might be done, steadily to perform his duties, to avoid the +students generally, and, above all things, to employ all his +leisure time in preparing for his recitations. +</p> + +<p> +It was a hard lot that Roland Bruce had chosen—it +took him several hours at night to clean the boots, although +he was aided by a little fellow in the employ of the +institution; before the dawn of day, he was busy carrying up +wood and making the fires, aided by the same little fellow. +</p> + +<p> +He allowed himself but six hours' sleep, and husbanded +his time so carefully, that, with all his hard labor, he really +accomplished more than half the students in the college. +</p> + +<p> +Added to his industry, Roland's talents were of no common +order, and the faculty soon perceived that the humble +boot-black of the college, would carry off most of its +honors. +</p> + +<p> +"Holloa, Boots!" exclaimed George Stanley one morning, +as Roland was passing through the halls with wood for +the rooms. +</p> + +<p> +He passed on without noticing the insolence. As he +returned, Stanley was at the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, Boots! I want to see you." +</p> + +<p> +"When you speak to me as you ought, I am ready to +listen," answered Roland, with quiet dignity. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Mr. Bruce, I want to say to you, that you don't +polish my boots well." +</p> + +<p> +"Complain to the authorities, Mr. Stanley," and Roland +passed on. +</p> + +<p> +"Proud as Lucifer! I wish I could humble him, with +his grand airs of superiority," said Stanley, as he banged +the door of his room. +</p> + +<p> +"You humble him!" answered Edmund Norris; "a +pigmy might as well try to reach the sun." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what is he, Norris? but a mere boot-black for +the college. I won't stand his pride." +</p> + +<p> +"Go to the recitation room, if you want to see what +Roland Bruce is—there is not a fellow in the college that +can compete with him, notwithstanding all his hard labor." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose that he is a prince in disguise, Norris, from +the airs which he puts on." +</p> + +<p> +"He has done nothing to offend you, Stanley, and yet +you take every opportunity to insult him. I tell you, sir, +that I know Roland Bruce—neither you nor I could have +the independence which he exhibits; and, so far from +humbling him, in my estimation, it exalts him; though I +know that I never could reach it—I could not saw wood +and black shoes for my education." +</p> + +<p> +When the students met again in the dining-hall, Norris +stepped up to Roland, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Your seat is by me henceforth at the table." +</p> + +<p> +"How is this?" inquired Roland, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"I made the request, that's all; you shall be treated +properly." +</p> + +<p> +Several of the students frowned on finding themselves so +near to "Boots," as they termed him; when speaking <i>of</i>, +not <i>to</i> Roland Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +"How long since you were knighted, Sir Edmund?" +asked Stanley; "I find that you have taken your place +among the sons of chivalry." +</p> + +<p> +"If I am entitled to the name for righting the oppressed, +very well, I <i>am</i> Sir Edmund Norris." +</p> + +<p> +Roland, with his quiet dignity of demeanor, really did +not look very much in need of patronage; although truly +grateful to the generous young soul, who was always his +champion. +</p> + +<p> +Our young student had secured the universal respect of +the faculty—Dr. Kingsley was his firm, tried friend; he +furnished him with all his necessary text-books, so that +the five dollars were yet untouched. Mrs. Jennings, the +matron, was extremely kind, looking after his little stock +of clothes, keeping them as neat as possible, and not +unfrequently adding a collar or two, a handkerchief, or a pair +of stockings to his scanty wardrobe. +</p> + +<p> +"Can't you stop in my room a minute, Roland?" said +the good lady. +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, my dear madam, but I really have no +time to day." +</p> + +<p> +"Always busy, my son; may you be rewarded for your +patient industry." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, my good, kind friend;" and Roland's heart +swelled with emotion, for he had heard but one kind +womanly voice since he had lost his dear mother, and that +was good Mrs. Romaine's. +</p> + +<p> +"There is a box for you, Roland," said the janitor; and, +much to his surprise, he found quite a large box in his +little attic, accompanied by a letter from sister Effie; so +full of love and tender recollection, that, for a moment, it +quite unmanned him. +</p> + +<p> +"You will find many useful things, dear Roland; don't +ask how I got them; my own hands made the shirts and +hemmed the handkerchiefs; they come to you from a very +dear friend. The suit of clothes comes from Mr. Hamilton, +who has heard of your course at college, and who was +quite chagrined that you should go without seeing him; +but the shirts and handkerchiefs are a secret." +</p> + +<p> +Roland opened the box, and there he found a suit of +clothes, half a dozen shirts, stockings, and handkerchiefs, +with other valuable and necessary things. +</p> + +<p> +He bowed his knee before his Father in Heaven, and +blessed him for the gift, for really his old clothes were +completely worn out. +</p> + +<p> +Stars in the night season shining still around him—why +should he ever doubt? +</p> + +<p> +Edmund met him with a beaming countenance in the +dining hall, not that he cared any more for Roland in his +neat mourning suit, but it did please him to see his friend +taking his seat among his fellows, in the garb of a gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +Who could have sent the shirts and handkerchiefs? but +one kind friend could he think of, and that was Madeline +Hamilton. He knew that whatever she desired, was +granted to her by her indulgent father. It was pleasant +to be thus remembered—but how humbling to Roland's +pride, who longed to work for all his needs! +</p> + +<p> +Roland really loved his warm-hearted friend, Edmund +Norris, but he saw that he was wasting both time and +money. Night after night would he sit up until a late +hour, indulging in card-playing and champagne. He was +constantly resolving to change his course, but he had no +power to put his resolutions into practice. The term was +rapidly passing away, the time for examination drawing +nigh, and Roland feared that his friend would utterly fail. +</p> + +<p> +Edmund was often late at chapel and recitation, and +yawning and listless all day. +</p> + +<p> +Roland's mind was soon resolved as to duty. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I see you this evening, Edmund, after supper, on +the lawn?" said the faithful friend. +</p> + +<p> +"I will be there," was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +True to his promise, Roland awaited his coming. +</p> + +<p> +"I am aware what you have to say, Roland," said the +young man; "you want to read me a lecture upon my evil +ways; is it not so?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have no right to lecture you, Edmund; but I cannot +see you ruining all your prospects, and throwing away +every advantage, without remonstrance." +</p> + +<p> +"I know it is all true, Roland; but what is a fellow to +do? Just as soon as I go to my room for study, three or +four of my chums follow me, and there is no rest until I +open my door, and then come the champagne and the cards, +and night after night is spent in this way. I am always +resolving, but can bring nothing good to pass." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you happy, Edmund? Does conscience acquit you? +What would your father say! Can you bear to be +disgraced at the close of the term?" +</p> + +<p> +Edmund bowed his head, and replied, "I am a miserable +fellow! None of these things really satisfy me; but what +can I do? I have too much money, Roland; I want to +turn over a new leaf. I have a thought," and, taking his +pocket-book out of his pocket, he continued, "take it, +Roland; keep it for me; when I really need money, I will ask +for it, and give a strict account." +</p> + +<p> +"Really, Edmund! that seems very much like a child." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Roland, that is just what I am; a weak, spoiled +child, and I must be treated as one; if I am to study, I +must put it out of my power to waste my time." +</p> + +<p> +Roland took the trust smiling, and said, "You will not +complain, Edmund, if I sometimes refuse your demands." +</p> + +<p> +"That is the bargain, Roland; I think that I can keep +my promise." +</p> + +<p> +The young man really did close his doors upon all his idle +friends, and commenced a new course. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I come to your little attic, Roland, to study? No +one will follow me there." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, my friend;" and Edmund found the quiet of +the distant room, and the presence of his studious friend, a +great help to his new resolutions. +</p> + +<p> +"Boots" was making rapid progress in his studies. Many +were jealous of his talents, and feared him as a rival; but +with the one great end in view, he was turned aside by +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Roland's manly Christianity was overcoming all enmity +excepting with mean grovelling spirits. Stanley still +delighted to make thrusts at him, for he could not but +acknowledge his superiority. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, he stopped at Stanley's door for his boots; +they were not outside; he knocked—a faint voice answered, +"Come in." +</p> + +<p> +Roland entered, and poor Stanley lay on the bed, burning +with fever, and tossing from side to side in agony. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, Stanley?" asked Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"I have suffered agony all night; my head aches and +burns, and my whole frame is shaking with chills." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry for you, Stanley; it is bad to be sick +without a woman's care and kindness; shall I bathe your +head?" +</p> + +<p> +Roland brought a basin of cool water, washed the poor +fellow's face, combed his hair, and laid cloths wet with cool +water on his burning head. +</p> + +<p> +"I will send the doctor, Stanley; you need advice." +</p> + +<p> +Going immediately to the matron, he informed her of the +case, sent for the physician, and returned to Stanley's room, +where he stayed cooling his head until the doctor arrived. +It was a serious case, and needed great care, the physician +said. +</p> + +<p> +All others avoided the sick room for fear of a contagious +disease, and poor Stanley would have suffered greatly, +perhaps have lost his life, had it not been for Roland's care. +</p> + +<p> +He received the doctor's orders, saw that his medicines +were given at the proper time, and spent as much of +his time as possible by Stanley's bed-side; that, however, +could not be long with all his other duties; but Stanley +was never left alone, for the Janitor's boy stayed with him; +and by Roland's minute directions, he was properly attended to. +</p> + +<p> +Stanley was very ill for three weeks; when convalescent, +he called Roland to his bed-side, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"How could you do so much for me? I have never said +a kind word to you since you came here." +</p> + +<p> +"'When thine enemy hunger, feed him; when he thirsts, +give him drink; for in so doing, thou shalt heap coals of +fire on his head.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Whose words are these, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"The words of Jesus, Stanley." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you one of his disciples? I thought you were too +manly for that, Roland. I have always thought that that +will do for old women and children; not for men." +</p> + +<p> +"You are mistaken, Stanley; a Christian is the highest +order of a man." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you forgive me, Roland? I have been a mean +puppy to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive, Stanley! Certainly. You have been +thoughtless, but I hope not unfeeling." +</p> + +<p> +"You have conquered George Stanley, Roland, and woe +to the fellow that dares speak against you." +</p> + +<p> +"I am so happy, Stanley, to see you getting better; but +do not thank me; thank your Father in Heaven; he is the +giver of life and health." +</p> + +<p> +"Another star in the night season," thought Roland. "If +I can only do some good to poor Stanley, I shall be satisfied." +</p> + +<p> +Edmund kept his resolution—to be sure one evening he +stayed rather longer than usual in Roland's room, as though +having something to say. +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, I want some money," said the youth. +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled. "For what, may I ask?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, never mind this time, Roland; I want it; it's mine, +and that is enough." +</p> + +<p> +"But where is your promise, Edmund? You remember +that you agreed to tell me what you meant to do with it." +</p> + +<p> +"There's a new arrival, Roland, an old friend of ours, +and I want to give a treat." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled again. "I cannot consent, Edmund; it +breaks the contract." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I've made myself a little boy, indeed; can't +have my own—I must have five dollars." +</p> + +<p> +"You can't to-night, Edmund; come to me to-morrow +morning, and we will talk about it then; it was your own +proposition, and you must abide by it; it has been a great +benefit thus far; you have not missed a recitation for three +weeks; I am not going to see all your good resolutions +thrown to the winds." +</p> + +<p> +Edmund retired not very well pleased, but could not +gainsay one word that Roland had uttered. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, he came with a bright face. +</p> + +<p> +"You were right, Roland, and I wrong; you know how +to manage me, I see that." +</p> + +<p> +The close of the year arrived—Roland occupied the +highest place in the college, and Edmund passed a +respectable examination, thanks to his faithful friend. +</p> + +<p> +"There has been partiality shown to 'Boots,'" said Robert +Thornton; "I don't believe that he deserves all the +honors." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XIII. +<br><br> +DRIFT-WOOD. +</h3> + +<p> +Farewells are spoken—trunks are strapped—Roland's +carpet-bag is well packed, filled by good Mrs. Jennings, for +she has discovered that he returns on foot. +</p> + +<p> +Sleeping in barns, occasionally at farm-houses, at last he +finds himself in sight of Woodcliff; he passes Maple Lane +school on his way, and remembers the bright young face +that used to smile upon him so kindly, and the reverent +folding of her little hands, as Maddy listened to the +teaching of her young mentor, so meek under his reproofs, so +fiery and impetuous with all others. He wondered how it +was now. On, on, past the cottage home, past the +cemetery, he finds himself at the gate of Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +Walking up the familiar avenue, old Hector bounds to +meet him, for he was a staunch friend of Roland Bruce. +Effie hears the noise, and runs out to see what is the matter. +</p> + +<p> +A glance at the tall young man is sufficient. It is her +own dear, dear brother! and in another minute, Effie is +pressed to the warm heart of her only relative. Roland +holds her off, and looks anxiously at his dear sister. Is she +really paler, thinner; or is it the mourning-dress that makes +her look so pallid? +</p> + +<p> +"Are you well, Effie?" asks the anxious brother. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, Roland, and so happy; they are all so good to +me here. Miss Matilda will not let me overwork myself, +and Mr. Hamilton is so kind." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you ever hear of Madeline, Effie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, frequently; and she always asks about you, +Roland; she is just as glad as I am when you are successful +at college." +</p> + +<p> +"Has she been at home lately?" +</p> + +<p> +"She was here at vacation; but it does not take place at +the same time with yours." +</p> + +<p> +"Has she grown much, Effie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very much; she is growing tall, and so beautiful. You +know, brother, that I always thought that there was nobody +so pretty as Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"Is she like she used to be, Effie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not so wild, brother; but just as sweet and affectionate. +She used to go every day to see the rose-bush that +you planted together, and she was always singing the +Scotch songs that you taught her. Where will you stay, +brother?" +</p> + +<p> +"At old Peter's; that will do very well for me, Effie. +Before I return to college, I am going to the White Mountains; +I want to see them so much, and the journey on foot +will do me good." +</p> + +<p> +"How about your clothes, brother?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, you little rogue, you thought that I could not +guess your secret. Why, who else would send me the new +shirts and handkerchiefs but Madeline? You had no money, +Effie, and she is the only one that cares for me." +</p> + +<p> +Effie smiled. "You've guessed right, brother. When +she was at home she gave me the money, and I made them +all. What a happy little thing she was when they were +done! She skipped about, and danced like a merry little +kitten. 'Roland shall look like a gentleman at college,' +she said; 'and I know there's not one ahead of him there.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Effie, do you remember our dear mother's last message? +Oh, what a comfort it has been to me! 'Looking aloft!' +whenever I have felt as if my heart would sink, I have +remembered those sweet words, Effie, and they have made +me so strong." +</p> + +<p> +"So have I, Roland. I am often very lonely, brother, +and sometimes very weak. Sometimes I feel as if my life +will be a short time; then the dear words come, 'Looking +aloft!' and I think of all that they mean, and they make +me happy." +</p> + +<p> +"Shall we go into the conservatory, Effie?" asked her +brother. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes; I have taken good care of her flowers, Roland; +and that Scotch heather is always so pretty!" +</p> + +<p> +Effie led her brother to the old spot. The flowers were in +full bloom. Roland plucked a branch from Madeline's own +rose-bush, and another from the heather, and turned away. +Next, he entered the library, and on opening one of the +book-cases, there lay a glove of his little friend; and in +one of the books, a pressed branch of sea-weed. +</p> + +<p> +"I may have these, Effie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes; they are of no use to Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +Roland laid them carefully away, and then turned to seek +old Peter. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall see you soon again, Effie. Good-bye, now." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, dear brother. I am so glad that you have +come." +</p> + +<p> +"Is that you, my lad?" said old Peter. "I'm right glad +to see your young face once more." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you let me stay a few days with you, uncle Peter?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes, boy; but ours is a poor place; we can't do +much for you." +</p> + +<p> +"It will be well enough. I shall only be here for a few +days." +</p> + +<p> +Roland rambled around among the old familiar scenes, +and towards evening, returned to the sea-shore. Seating +himself upon the rock where he had passed so many happy +days, he gazed out upon the wide ocean. The music of its +waves was sad, depressing. It spoke of the past; for the +future it had no voice. As he mused, a log of drift-wood +floated by. How solitary it seemed! All alone! floating +on the wide ocean, drifting whither the tide would wash it +up at last. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that like me?" thought Roland. "Am I so lonely +in this wide world? Am I such a creature of chance?" No +human voice was near to answer the question of his +soul. The night birds sang their melancholy song around +him, and it was an hour of deep sadness. +</p> + +<p> +"Why should I indulge in such a train of thought?" inquired +Roland of his heart. "This is the language of +despondency, almost of despair. Am I indeed nothing but +driftwood?—so useless, so solitary!" Looking upward, the bright +fair moon was sailing overhead so serene! so pure! so silent! +With her voiceless majesty she answered, and the mother's +dying whispers came like sweet music to banish the +language of despair: +</p> + +<p> +"'Looking aloft, Roland!' 'Looking aloft!' I will +not be the drift-wood of human life. I will seek to fit +myself for my place on this great globe, and, obedient to my +Maker's laws as is that placid moon, I shall with his +blessing move on as surely to my destiny; happy to serve my +God here, and enjoy the fulness of His presence hereafter. +Float on, thou worthless log! thou shalt not symbolize my +fate! Sail on, thou placid moon! Let my course in life +be steady, calm, obedient, as thine." +</p> + +<p> +The voice within quickened his pace as he walked up and +down the beach, repeating the Psalm of Life: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Tell me not in mournful numbers,<br> + Life is but an empty dream!<br> + For the soul is dead that slumbers,<br> + And things are not what they seem.<br> + Life is real! Life is earnest!<br> + And the grave is not its goal;<br> + 'Dust thou art, to dust returnest,'<br> + Was not spoken of the soul," &c. &c.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Turning his steps towards Uncle Peter's cabin, he slept +the quiet sleep of recovered trust and confidence in God. +</p> + +<p> +Next evening he sought his mother's grave. How +soothing were the words upon that marble head-stone! +"She sleeps in Jesus." And how sweetly did they speak +of the dear little friend that placed them there! He had +not been seated long before Elsie Gibson made her +appearance. She seemed delighted to meet Roland again. +</p> + +<p> +"Weel, Roland, the days o' youth are passing away, +a'maist a mon. Ye're the vera image o' ane I luve weel; +may ye be a happier mon than he." +</p> + +<p> +"Whom do you mean, Elsie?" +</p> + +<p> +"It matters na, my bairn; I'm glad to hear sic a good +account o' ye, Roland, at the college; there's a great wark +before ye, my son, may ye live to do it weel." +</p> + +<p> +"Elsie," said Roland, "do you know anything about my +father?" +</p> + +<p> +"I used to ken a' aboot him, Roland, in days lang syne, +when we were baith young." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know where he is now, Elsie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why should ye ask sic a question, Roland? do ye na +ken that the vessel in which he sailed was lost?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard so, Elsie; but strange thoughts have +crossed my mind lately." +</p> + +<p> +"They are silly thoughts, Roland; ye maun think o' +yer father as dead. Good-bye, Roland, I maun be awa'." +</p> + +<p> +Roland turned his steps again towards Woodcliff. This +time he asked Effie to let him sit alone in the library for a +few minutes. He turned over many volumes, which he +knew Madeline was in the habit of reading, and in many a +page he found her mark. Taking up a small portfolio +which contained many scraps of paper, listlessly he sketched +the sweet face as he first saw Madeline on the sea-shore +with Harry, Charles, and the other children. Roland had +cultivated his taste for drawing, and had made a striking +pencil-sketch of the scene. Placing it almost unconsciously +back in the portfolio, he left the room, and, crossing the +hall, met Mr. Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Roland, I am rejoiced to see you. How greatly +you have grown,—almost a man!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir; time makes changes." +</p> + +<p> +"How are you progressing at college, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, sir; there is one of our catalogues," handing +one to Mr. Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +"This is good news, Roland. I hope, my boy, that you +will continue to reap such high honors. Stay, and dine +with us, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time that he had ever been invited to +Woodcliff as a table-guest, and with a modest blush, he +accepted the courtesy. It pleased him to find that Effie's +place was also at the family table, and with the well-bred +ease of a native gentleman, he took Mr. Hamilton quite by +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline would like to see you, Roland; she was at +home last vacation, and has greatly improved; you would +scarcely recognize little Mad-cap; she is so much more +sober." +</p> + +<p> +"Does she sing as much as ever?" asked Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, her voice is splendid; she shall have the best +masters that I can find, Roland. But do you know, boy, +that I like the old ballads she used to sing, more than the +opera-style, which is now so fashionable?" +</p> + +<p> +Before Roland took his leave, Mr. Hamilton sought a +private opportunity to speak to him. +</p> + +<p> +"Is there anything that I can do for you, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +He grasped Mr. Hamilton's hand warmly, as he answered, +"I am already your debtor, sir; and found your +gift of inestimable value." +</p> + +<p> +"You were kind to my little daughter, Roland; and I am +always at your service." +</p> + +<p> +Roland bowed, and took his departure. +</p> + +<p> +"That is a remarkable youth, Matilda," said Mr. Hamilton, +as he closed the door. "I don't know what to make +of him; brought up wholly in a cottage, without the +advantages of refined society, he has more of the manners of +a gentleman than either Harry Castleton or Charles +Davenport. He must have had a remarkable mother, and the +soul within must be of the noblest mould." +</p> + +<p> +"But really, brother, I don't think it well to encourage +the intimacy between this youth and our Madeline. He is +growing to be a man, and an attractive one to such a romantic +child as yours. You really talked of her to-day to +Roland as if he were her equal." +</p> + +<p> +"Really, Matilda, you are simply ridiculous; he is actually +a plebeian, and Madeline patronizes him; it has rather +amused me to see her independence." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't approve of the levelling system, Lewis Hamilton. +Let each one keep his place in society; no good comes +of these intimacies." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not afraid, Matilda. I think our Maddy has a +good share of pride—enough to keep her from low +associates." +</p> + +<p> +"I tell you, Lewis, that Roland Bruce has more influence +over that proud and wayward child than any other living +person,—a word from him, a look of reproof, I am told, had +more power to check her impetuous nature, than all the +teachers of Maple Lane school." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Matilda, he has never taught her anything wrong; +she is greatly improved since she knew the Bruce family." +</p> + +<p> +"You are certainly possessed, brother, with a spirit of +contradiction; but I have borne my testimony,—you must +have your own way. I have said all that I mean to." +</p> + +<p> +Roland's was rather a sad walk back to old Peter's cabin. +He felt that he was rapidly approaching the years of +manhood, and that Madeline would soon step over the sweet +days of childhood, and enter the enchanted ground of young +maidenhood. Then, the difference in their social position +would raise the barrier over which he dare not step; and +Madeline Hamilton and Roland Bruce would henceforth +belong to different worlds. +</p> + +<p> +It was a hard thought; but Roland had seen enough, and +known enough of worldly pride, to feel that this was so. +Not with Madeline herself, for she was too much a child of +nature for that; but he must not allow her to incur the +displeasure of her father, but especially her aunt, by forgetting +the broad gulf between them. +</p> + +<p> +On his next visit to Woodcliff, he was struck with +something peculiar in the look of Effie's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Your eyes look weak, Effie. I fear that you sew too +closely; is it not so?" +</p> + +<p> +"They do annoy me sometimes, Roland; they get so +dim that I can hardly use them." +</p> + +<p> +"Do take care of them, sister; any disease of the eye is +such a great calamity." +</p> + +<p> +"It would be a sore affliction to lose my sight, Roland; +then indeed I should find it difficult to look upward." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't let us forget, Effie, that whatever befalls us, comes +from our Father's hand, and must be a part of the training +by which He means to fit us for the better world." +</p> + +<p> +"It is a comfort, dear Roland, to feel that God cannot do +wrong—if we could only trust him always." +</p> + +<p> +At that moment, Nanny called Effie. +</p> + +<p> +"Here is a letter from Miss Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"I am so glad that it came while you were with us, +Roland," said Effie, as she broke the seal. +</p> + +<p> +She read it hurriedly, and said— +</p> + +<p> +"Here is something about you, Roland;" and she read +the quotation. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose that you hear often from Roland; I should +like to know what he is doing—tell him that little Maddy +is growing to be quite a studious, serious girl. My chief +companion here is Lucy Edmonds; she is a dear, sweet +friend; I wish that I were like her. I am learning a great +deal of new music, but I have not forgotten any of my old +Scotch songs. Take care of my rose-bush, Effie: I mean +the one that Roland planted; I hope that it will not die. +Be kind to old Hector for my sake, dear old fellow! Now +that I am away, I think more of Roland's good lessons +than I did when at home; I am sure that I shall never forget +them." +</p> + +<p> +Effie handed the letter to Roland, which he read quite +through. +</p> + +<p> +"She will be surrounded by snares, Effie, when her education +is finished; with all her wealth and beauty, I tremble +for Madeline; but still I do not believe that the world will +wholly spoil our little friend." +</p> + +<p> +"When will you leave us, Roland?" asked his sister. +</p> + +<p> +"In two days, I think; I have brought up my clothes +for you to look over, Effie; so soon as that is done, I shall +take up my line of march." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you walk all the way, Roland? it is so far." +</p> + +<p> +"I am used to that, Effie; indeed I prefer it; for I can +stop where I please, enjoy all that is beautiful, and rest +when I am tired. Don't be afraid of me, little sister; I am +very brave and strong." +</p> + +<p> +His preparations were soon made. +</p> + +<p> +"Effie, you don't know what a comfort you are to me—while +I have you, I cannot feel alone. Some of these days +we shall have a dear little home, where you shall be the +household fairy, and your brother the guide and strong arm +of his precious sister." +</p> + +<p> +"Take care of yourself, dear Roland; don't be so daring; +I don't believe that you ever think of danger." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall climb the highest mountain, Effie, it is such a +pleasure to conquer difficulties; and I will bring back to +you the beautiful ferns and mosses of the mountains—then +you can make one of your pretty baskets for Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +Folding her once more to his heart, Roland took his final +leave. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be back in a few weeks, Effie; good-bye for a +little while;" and looking back, he kissed his hand, and +smiled upon his dear sister. +</p> + +<p> +Effie looked after her brother with an admiring gaze, and +thought "How handsome he is! What a noble walk! God +bless my dear, dear brother." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XIV. +<br><br> +"EXCELSIOR." +</h3> + +<p> +Happy season of bright joyous youth! It nerved Roland's +springing step, flushed the glowing cheek, brightened +the dark eye, and gushed forth in cheering song upon the +early morning air. +</p> + +<p> +The past for awhile faded, the future was left in the +hands of the kind Father, and the youth revelled in the +freedom of the present moment. +</p> + +<p> +On through the charming scenes which led him to the +place of his destination; sometimes, by the roadside where +bloomed the neat little homes of New England, all with +their pretty porches entwined with flowers of every hue; +then, through the thick woods where happy birds carolled +around his path; again by the river's brink, with the bright +sky overhead, and in the sweet consciousness of an interest +in all these beauties of creation, Roland could look up and +say, "My Father made them all." +</p> + +<p> +At length he stopped at the foot of the mountain which +it was his ambition to reach. +</p> + +<p> +Large numbers like himself were preparing for the ascent, +but none on foot, save our young aspirant. +</p> + +<p> +On through thick green foliage, and over rocky paths, he +pressed his way, occasionally stopping to rest under some +shady canopy. +</p> + +<p> +Frequently in company with youthful parties, whose +merry chatter disturbed the thoughts which began to crowd +upon Roland, as the ascent brought frequently to view some +new scene of beauty and grandeur. +</p> + +<p> +As he pressed on, the journey became still more toilsome +and difficult, the road stony and rough; and Longfellow's +Excelsior came fresh upon his memory. Seating himself +for awhile, he repeated audibly the beautiful lines. +</p> + +<p> +The fresh mountain air inspired him with renewed courage +and determination, and, starting once more, he strained +every nerve in his efforts to scale these steep mountain +heights. +</p> + +<p> +The voices of the travellers on horseback became fainter +every moment, until at length he was left in perfect +solitude upon these dizzy heights. After many struggles over +rocks, and by the brinks of deep ravines, Roland found +himself upon the top of Mount Washington. The wind +was blowing fiercely; he could scarcely keep his feet; the +howling of its blasts through the deep solitudes, and wild +whistling music among the tall green pines, together with +the cold air, which almost cut his cheeks, and made him +draw his coat more closely around him, almost banished +the thought that at the foot of the mountain glowed the +heat of summer. +</p> + +<p> +He was highly favored, for it was a bright sunny day, +and the atmosphere perfectly transparent. With cheeks +tingling from excitement, and blood stirring in every vein, +he stood entranced amid the glorious scenery. He felt that +he had conquered, and the consciousness nerved the young +soul for further efforts. This suited the tone of his character, +and prefigured the temper with which he would in future +fight the battle of life. +</p> + +<p> +He looked around—grandeur marked every feature. Beneath +him lay the great world, the theatre of future conflicts. +The busy cities, the rivalries, the sins of men, the +trials of the way, the din of battle, the "Slough of +Despond," the "Giant Despair,"—but here certainly was also +a glimpse of the "Land of Beulah." +</p> + +<p> +Above, the glorious sky, so vast, so magnificent! around +him, the scenery which no pencil could ever fully paint. +Deep ravines, towering peaks of glory, falls of water dashing +down the dizzy heights, and beyond! peak piled on peak, +stretching as far as eye could reach, a whole amphitheatre +of glorious mountains. +</p> + +<p> +A voice within answered to the voice around; it was the +same which had spoken to him in the days of childhood, +when standing in one of his native glens, among the rude +mountains of Scotland, he had listened to the story of his +martyred ancestors. +</p> + +<p> +His soul swelled then, child that he was, with lofty +emotions. It swelled now with fuller, deeper majesty, as he +listened to the voice of God among these mountains; and +on through life, that voice will follow Roland. He took out +his little Testament and read, "I will lift up mine eyes unto +the hills from whence cometh my help." And again, +</p> + +<p> +"As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the +Lord is round about his people." +</p> + +<p> +"Need I look farther?" asked Roland of his soul. "God +is here! <i>My</i> God! <i>My</i> Father!"—and, bowing his head, +he lifted up the voice of prayer, and here amid these +mountain solitudes, made a fresh covenant with the God of his +martyred fathers. In this hour of rapt communion, he +remembered Effie, his orphan sister, and Madeline, the dear +little friend of his early youth. +</p> + +<p> +Here, surrounded by these glorious mountains, in this +vast solitude, it was easy to imagine the glories of that +mountain of the Lord, when his people gathered home once +more, should rest in peace; and when in the glories of the +latter days, wars and tumults, strife and discord, sin and +misery, should forever cease. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Upon the frontier of this shadowy land,<br> + We, pilgrims of eternal sorrow, stand.<br> + What realm lies forward with its happier store<br> + Of forests green and deep,<br> + Of valleys hushed in sleep,<br> + And lakes most peaceful? 'Tis the<br> + Land of Evermore.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Very far off its marble cities seem—<br> + Very far off—beyond our sensual dream—<br> + Its woods, unruffled by the wild winds roar:<br> + Yet does the turbulent surge<br> + Howl on its very verge<br> + One moment—and we breathe within the<br> + Evermore.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "They whom we loved and lost so long ago,<br> + Dwell in those cities, far from mortal woe,<br> + Hunt those fresh woodlands, where sweet carollings soar.<br> + Eternal peace have they:<br> + God wipes their tears away:<br> + They drink that river of life which flows for<br> + Evermore.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Thither we hasten through these regions dim;<br> + But lo, the wide wings of the seraphim<br> + Shine in the sunset! On that joyous shore<br> + Our lighted hearts shall know<br> + The life of long ago:<br> + The sorrow burdened past shall fade for<br> + Evermore."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +There was nothing but the shelter of a rude shed, but so +enraptured was our young traveller that he resolved to +stay. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening, the screams of the wild mountain birds +added to the grandeur of the scene; and often could be +seen in the air, sailing along in graceful swoops, the +American eagle, proud emblem of our country's glory. In the +deep night season, the growling of wild animals, the howling +of the winds, whose deep sighs through the ravines, +filled the whole air with music—not sweet and silvery, but +grand, majestic, overpowering; for nature has her deep +bass as well as her rich tenor, and her sweet warbling +treble. Here was the effect of the deep bass of harmonious +instruments; and to crown all, distant thunder rolled +from cliff to cliff, echoing until lost in the distance, and +Roland looked on, and listened in eloquent silence. His +visit was drawing to a close—how could he descend from +such heights of grandeur, to the busy, bustling world +again? +</p> + +<p> +But duty called; packing up his little all, and gathering +the ferns and mosses in a box which he had brought for +the purpose, he commenced his descent. Not soon should +he forget the inspiration of these vast solitudes, away from +man, alone with God. He buckled on his armor, and with +a brave spirit sped to the foot of the mountain. +</p> + +<p> +Roland had heard much of the beauty of the charming lake +Winnipiseogee, which lay on the route to the mountains, +and thither he resolved to tarry for awhile. +</p> + +<p> +Arriving in the evening, he rambled along its beautiful +margin, the glorious mountains spanning the horizon, here +adding features of beauty, there of grandeur. +</p> + +<p> +It was a great transition from such wild magnificence, to +this placid beauty; the calm lake, the pretty little hotel, +the boating parties on the clear water, the refined society, +the grassy banks with the fine old trees that formed so +many bowers of shade, for here it was really summer; all +this was soothing, not stirring as the mountain tops. +</p> + +<p> +Day by day, musing, sketching, rambling, or rowing +about in the little boat, owned by the family, he enjoyed +nis summer recreation. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, returning from one of these excursions on +the lake, stepping on shore, whom should he encounter but +Edmund Norris. +</p> + +<p> +Seizing Roland's hand, he exclaimed, "Why, my good +fellow! how came you here?" +</p> + +<p> +"On foot, Edmund!" said Roland, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"But where are you staying?" +</p> + +<p> +"At that little cottage, Edmund." +</p> + +<p> +"Go, pack up your duds, Roland, and come with me, I +can't do without you." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is in your party, Edmund?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only my mother and sister." +</p> + +<p> +"They would consider me an intruder, Edmund; besides, +it is impossible, I can't stay at a hotel." +</p> + +<p> +"And why not, sir? I think I know, Roland; I will not +take any denial—you have done me infinite service, and I +can never repay you. I must introduce you to my mother, +Roland; she is anxious to know you," and placing his +friend's arm within his own, he hurried him off to the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +"My friend, Roland Bruce, mother, my sister, Miss +Norris," and Roland bowed to a very pleasant looking +middle aged lady, and an interesting young girl, in the +person of Jessie Norris. +</p> + +<p> +"We are glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bruce," +replied the mother, at the same time extending her hand; +"this is a meeting that I have long desired." +</p> + +<p> +The summer passed rapidly, and the party separated for +their respective destinations. +</p> + +<p> +Edmund would not hear of Roland's return on foot, +consequently they travelled together to the point nearest +Woodcliff, and there they parted, mutually pleased; +Edmund to his home, and Roland back to Woodcliff, to pay a +short parting visit to Effie. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall meet at college, Roland," said Edmund. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and it must be a hard working year; I can only +go two terms after this." +</p> + +<p> +Another week near Woodcliff, and Roland prepared for +toil again. +</p> + +<p> +"I have come, dear Effie, to say farewell for awhile," +aid Roland. "I have brought you some beautiful ferns +and mosses, and when I come again, I will expect to see +the basket." +</p> + +<p> +"I can make two, Roland, one for each window in the +drawing room; Madeline will be so pleased,—they are both +for her." +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Effie, let us sing our mother's favorite hymn," +and the orphans sang with sweet voices, and full hearts, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "God of our fathers, by whose care,<br> + Thy people still are blest;<br> + Be with us through our pilgrimage,<br> + Conduct us to our rest."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Now, sister, let me go for one minute up the staircase; +don't come with me, I want to be alone." +</p> + +<p> +Roland stood upon the landing, and listened to the sweet +murmurs of the Eolian harp. The summer wind swept +lightly over the strings, and seemed to sigh, "farewell, +farewell;" but for a moment, a stronger breeze swept over +them, and higher, fuller arose the aerial music, and "aloft, +aloft" they whispered. +</p> + +<p> +He descended with a smile, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Now, dear Effie, I am ready; God forever bless my +darling sister; don't forget 'Looking aloft! Looking aloft.'" +</p> + +<p> +She smiled through her tears, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"I'll try, dear Roland, but I am not so strong as you." +</p> + +<p> +Back again on the first day of the term, Roland was +warmly welcomed by the faculty. +</p> + +<p> +He returned bravely, cheerfully, to his self-imposed +service of drudgery; but the presence of many new members +subjected him again to the same ordeal through which he +had passed the first half of the former year. +</p> + +<p> +The same diligence and fidelity, the same faithful friendship +for Edmund, the same honors at the close, marked the +second year; and at the period of vacation, another visit +to dear Effie, to the familiar spots around Woodcliff, and he +was anticipating a return for the last year to finish his +college course. +</p> + +<p> +"You cannot imagine, dear brother, how delighted Madeline +was with the baskets—'did he gather them with his +own hands, Effie?' she used to ask me day after day, and +I saw her place a few of the ferns which I had saved, away +in one of her school books. 'Thank Roland for me,' was +her last message; 'tell him I expect to see him a great +man, delivering orations, or public speeches, at any rate, at +Maple Lane, yet.'" +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled, as he said, "The same little enthusiast yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Little! brother! why, you forget, you have not seen +Madeline for two years; she is no longer a little girl; she +is fifteen now, and unusually tall for that age. I don't +believe that you would call her Maddy now." +</p> + +<p> +Roland's countenance fell; for this innocent hint had +brought again most forcibly the conviction that the +approach of womanhood was building a gulf which could not +be passed, and the sweet intimacy of playful childhood +could be no more renewed. +</p> + +<p> +His third year at college was a season of rapid progress. +On his return, Dr. Kingsley sent for Roland to his private +room. +</p> + +<p> +"You have been well tried, my son," said the good man. +"I have looked upon your course, Roland, with pride; +shall I say it to a boy? with reverence. Not one of fifty +would have borne the indignities of your position, and +risen above them all, as you have; you shall be rewarded. +The offices which you have performed so nobly will be +given to another, little Jack, the Janitor's nephew, and +another boy hired for the purpose; you, Roland, shall have +all your time for study." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was a manly boy, but with a warm, tender heart. +His eyes filled with tears of gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +Seizing Dr. Kingsley's hand, he pressed a warm kiss upon +its wrinkled surface, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Words cannot thank you, Dr. Kingsley, for all your +goodness; the training of this college is more than a +fortune to me." +</p> + +<p> +"You must not lavish all your thanks upon me, Roland. +Edmund Norris has told me all your trials, all the insults +which you formerly received; he has told me of all your +patient endurance, and noble return of good for evil. +Mrs. Norris is wealthy, she has offered to place you exactly by +the side of her son, bearing all your expenses, and occupying +the same room. I judged you by myself, and thought +that you would rather be indebted to the college. You +will occupy the room with Edmund; but we must have the +honor of educating Roland Bruce." +</p> + +<p> +"You will be repaid, my dear sir, for all your kindness +and delicacy. Oh! how faithful are the promises of God: +'Looking aloft' was the motto which my dear mother left +me on her death-bed; I have tried to act upon it; and +endeavoring to do my duty, have looked upward for God's +blessing, and have never been disappointed." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Kingsley straitened himself up, put on a sterner look, +took off his spectacles, that seemed suddenly to become +moistened, and jerking his handkerchief out of his pocket, +blew his nose violently, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"I have a bad cold, Roland; I don't know how it came, +but I did not feel it until you came into the room." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled, for Dr. Kingsley did not like it to be +known what a warm sympathetic heart beat under that +cold, and somewhat stern exterior. +</p> + +<p> +Roland's position, this year, was a happy one; and +Edmund was about as much the gainer as he. +</p> + +<p> +Rooming together, Roland's powerful example was a +strong incentive to the young man; and though often tempted +to relax, what at first was a severe task, became first a +habit, then a pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +A secret plot for some forbidden pleasure was again +agitating among the wild ones. +</p> + +<p> +"You need not ask Ned Norris to join us," said one of +his former companions, "he's among the saints now; he +dare not say that his life is his own when Roland Bruce is +about. I don't care much about his company, but it is +deucedly inconvenient to miss his purse, it was always +open in former days—but old 'Boots' has the charge of him +now, and there is no use of asking him to join this spree." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you dare call him 'Boots' again?" said Stanley, +doubling his fist, "I told you all that I'd knock the first +fellow down that insults Roland Bruce; there is not one +here fit to wipe his shoes." +</p> + +<p> +"How came you to turn round so soon, Stanley? you +were among the most bitter of his enemies," said Thornton. +</p> + +<p> +"When you all stood off from me as if I were a leper, +Roland Bruce quietly, nobly took care of me; he watched +me on my sick bed, as if I had been his friend, instead of +his enemy; and do you think that I'll ever hear you speak +against such a fellow as that?" +</p> + +<p> +The chief offender slunk away, evidently frightened. +</p> + +<p> +"You never told me so, Stanley; it must have been +before I came." +</p> + +<p> +"I tell you now, Brown, Roland shall be treated as a +gentleman, so long as I am in this college; so clear out, or +I may knock you down." +</p> + +<p> +Brown crawled away, and Roland was everywhere in +the ascendant. +</p> + +<p> +Many envied him his quiet superiority; but all respected +the studious youth that was carrying off so many of the +honors. +</p> + +<p> +His path was henceforth a pleasant one, until one +morning, whom should he see among the new students but +Harry Castleton and Charles Davenport! +</p> + +<p> +Roland's appearance was that of a gentleman; for, although +he had not the changes which some had, he always +contrived to appear genteel. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast, Roland advanced to the young men, and +politely extended his hand. Charles, with a supercilious +air, turned on his heel, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"You are mistaken, sir; we do not know you." +</p> + +<p> +Roland had acted the part of a gentleman and a Christian, +and he left the young men to imagine that they had +humbled him. +</p> + +<p> +They soon observed his intimacy with Edmund Norris, +whose family they had met elsewhere. Determined to annoy +him still farther, they sought the first opportunity of +speaking alone. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know this young Bruce?" said Harry. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir, I have good cause to know him; he has saved +me from many a false step and wicked companion." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know his origin?" continued Harry. +</p> + +<p> +"I know that he is Scotch, and had a good mother." +</p> + +<p> +"His mother was a common huckster, and he no better +than a beggar; he lived in my uncle's neighborhood, and I +have seen him many a time with old patched clothes, and +scarcely a shoe to his feet." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed!" said Edmund. "I know that he is very poor; +he has told me much of his history. You have told me +now how poor he is—shall I tell you how noble he is in +the estimation of all true hearts in this college? You are +at mean work, sir, but you will not harm Roland Bruce; +he is above your mark, sir. Good morning, Mr. Castleton." +</p> + +<p> +Edmund saw that the two were cultivating the intimacy +of several of the upstart boys, sons of the merchant princes +of New York, with gold watches, full purses, fashionable +wardrobes, empty brains, and cold, sordid souls. +</p> + +<p> +Brown was one of them—a mean, cowardly fellow, who +had not forgotten the attack of Stanley, and was glad to +find allies in the two new students. +</p> + +<p> +"There comes Boots," said Brown, one evening to Harry +Castleton. +</p> + +<p> +"Whom do you mean?" was the quick reply; and Brown +pointed to Roland, who was walking in the lawn, arm in +arm with Edmund Norris. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you call him 'Boots,' Brown?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll whisper the story to you—do you know that in the +first two years that he was here, he earned his education +by blacking boots, carrying up wood, making fires, &c., and +now he has the presumption to hold himself up above us +fellows, and the faculty really place him constantly before +us as a pattern to follow." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a good joke," answered Castleton; "I'll remember +that story—a common boot-black! 'pon my word! brought +here among gentlemen! Faugh! I shall smell boots +every time I pass him." +</p> + +<p> +The next week, a drawing was on the wall in the passage +to the recitation room, representing a boy blacking boots, +and underneath written "Boots" at his profession; and +another picture of a boy with a basket of boot-blacking and +brushes, receiving a diploma; under which was written +"Boots graduates, ready to practise on gentlemen's +feet." Roland and Edmund saw the low proceeding—they did not +notice it; but, on going out of the hall, Castleton and +Davenport passed close to the young men. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you smell boots, Davenport?" said Castleton. +</p> + +<p> +Stanley was near; he heard the insult, as also did Norris. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly, the two were surrounded; and Stanley, +enraged, said, +</p> + +<p> +"I will bear it no longer; you shall not insult Roland +Bruce;" and he gave Castleton a violent blow in the face. +Edmund, too, joined the fight. Castleton and Davenport +tried to defend themselves, but in vain; surrounded by +several of the boys, they received a sound drubbing. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was distressed—he was a brave boy, and though +he knew that in the anger of the combatants he was likely +to become entangled in the broil, he stepped forward, and +placing himself between Edmund and Castleton, he said, +</p> + +<p> +"Edmund, I beseech you, come with me; it is not worth +minding—leave these boys to themselves; they do not +harm me." +</p> + +<p> +"Go away, Roland; I must punish them in a way which +they will never forget." +</p> + +<p> +Roland, however, persevered, and succeeded in drawing +away his friend. +</p> + +<p> +The boys each had black eyes, swollen faces, and torn +coats for their reward. +</p> + +<p> +They did not again try the same game, but their hatred +of Roland was by no means lessened; it was rather +increased. +</p> + +<p> +The term drew rapidly to a close—Roland was looking +forward anxiously to his embarkation on the theatre of +human life. He knew that he had nothing but his education, +and simple trust in God. That was enough for his +confidence. He graduated with high honors. Edmund was +to stay another year, and grieved to part with his friend. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Kingsley congratulated Roland warmly— +</p> + +<p> +"You have done nobly, sir," said the President; "your +friends may well be proud of you." +</p> + +<p> +"You forget, my dear sir, I have but two, who care +particularly for my success, and they are both young girls; one +my sister, and the other a little friend." +</p> + +<p> +The good President gave him warm parting counsels, +and on shaking his hand for the last time, said, +</p> + +<p> +"Remember, you have friends at college; your Alma +Mater will always be proud of her son." +</p> + +<p> +The young men were all busily occupied, and full of eager +anticipations. Vacation had arrived, and all had some dear +home circle waiting for them, but Roland. He had none; +and, on the waste of life, sometimes he could not but feel +like a waif among the multitude, but never long. +</p> + +<p> +"Looking aloft" was the general tone of his brave spirit. +With five dollars in his pocket-book, he prepared to leave +the college; and, on opening it, he found ten dollars more, +with the pencilled words— +</p> + +<p> +"You have been a faithful banker; accept this from Edmund." +</p> + +<p> +Taking leave of his kind friends, he turned his face +towards Woodcliff, and Effie looked with pride upon her dear +brother, as she read the diploma over and over again. +</p> + +<p> +"Would not our dear mother be happy, Roland?" said +the young girl; "you have accomplished her desires; may +all the rest be fulfilled, dear brother." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XV. +<br><br> +STRIFE. +</h3> + +<p> +"Where are you going, Roland?" asked Effie, with an +anxious face. +</p> + +<p> +"I think to New York, sister." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you any money, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"But very little, sister, excepting in the bank of Heaven;" +was the reply, and yet Roland smiled, it seemed so daring +to set out on life's journey so penniless. +</p> + +<p> +"I have five dollars, brother, you must take it; Miss +Matilda gave it to me for some very fine work which I +have just finished for Madeline;" and away ran Effie to +bring her pocket-book, and attempted to empty its contents +into Roland's hand. +</p> + +<p> +Roland shrank from the gift. "I have fifteen dollars, +Effie, that must do until I reach the great city." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you expect to do, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I shall see when I reach New York." +</p> + +<p> +"How shall I write to you? I shall be so anxious." +</p> + +<p> +"I will write first, and let you know where I am." +</p> + +<p> +"Give me your valise, brother," and Effie placed in it +some sandwiches, which she had prepared with her own +little hands. +</p> + +<p> +With a hasty farewell, and a brother's warm kiss, +Roland turned his face towards the great metropolis, brave, +hopeful, trusting, still "Looking aloft." Oh! what need +of the talisman now! +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes a good-natured farmer would give him a lift +on the road; and, at the end of one week, he found himself, +weary and lonely, entering the great city. One dollar was +all that was left in his pocket-book. +</p> + +<p> +Rambling listlessly up Broadway, the multitude depressed +him; for he felt himself friendless indeed, in this +vast surging crowd. +</p> + +<p> +Passing Trinity Church, he perceived it open, for it was +the time of the evening service. The sound of the organ +cheered his spirits, and, joining in the solemn service, for +awhile he forgot his worldly cares, and worshipped the +Unseen. +</p> + +<p> +Perceiving a gentleman mounting the steeple, Roland +followed, with the injunction from the sexton not to stay +too long, for he should wish to close the church. The +gentleman took a hasty glance, but soon descended, leaving +Roland to his meditations. +</p> + +<p> +What a busy, bustling crowd below! Did they, indeed, +belong to the one great brotherhood of man? Each one +pushing his own way, apparently so regardless of his +neighbor's motions; some to happy, smiling homes; some +to dens of poverty and misery; many to haunts of sin. +And the streets so filled with carts, carriages, omnibuses, +and cars, all threading their way so skilfully through the +thronged thoroughfare. +</p> + +<p> +The solitudes of the grand mountains was to be alone +with God; the dreariness of this human crowd was oppressive, +and here, away in the lofty steeple, near the clouds, +far above the din and press of this great multitude of +humanity, he felt that he could breathe once more. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing over the vast city, the numerous steeples all +around him reminded him that he was among Christians. +"So many Christians!" thought Roland, "and not one +knows me; but then every Sunday, in these houses dedicated +to God, they pray for the fatherless and the homeless, +and I am one." +</p> + +<p> +So deeply was he engrossed in thought, and so soothing +was the quiet of this retreat from the busy world, that +Roland forgot how time was passing. The crowd diminished, +evening shadows rendered objects below somewhat +indistinct, and the fair moon appeared to light the heavens. +Sailing majestically along, sometimes hidden by clouds, +then emerging again into all her calm beauty, Roland +could not but compare her course to the journey of God's +dear children through this wilderness: sometimes obscured +by sorrow, yet always coming forth again into the calm, +clear sky of perfect peace. +</p> + +<p> +Roland remembered that he had no place where to lay +his weary limbs that night, and he repeated some of the +promises. +</p> + +<p> +"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the +Lord will take me up." +</p> + +<p> +The heavens seemed to smile upon him; he felt that he +was God's own child, and repeated solemnly, "Our Father, +who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom +come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, <i>give us +this day our daily bread</i>," his heart was comforted; and he +descended the dark stair-case with the same feeling of +security as if he had pressed the hand of his Heavenly +Father guiding him safely along. +</p> + +<p> +When he reached the church, he found it locked; he had +stayed so long, the sexton had forgotten him, but he was +not afraid—afraid in God's dear house, with the soft, sweet +moon shining on him through the stained window-glass! +Oh! no—there was a sense of sweet security pervading +his heart, and, laying himself down in one of the cushioned +pews, he slept the sleep of perfect security in the Father +above. +</p> + +<p> +Locked up until the time for the morning service, the +sexton was both surprised and displeased at the sight of +the tenant in rich Mr. Seldin's pew. Roland apologized, +but the old man was surly, and hurried him out of the +church. +</p> + +<p> +He was hungry and thirsty, so the first thing that he +sought was some food. Furnishing himself with some +crackers and cheese, and refreshing himself with a drink +of water, he commenced his first day's battle with life. +</p> + +<p> +Up and down the long, crowded streets, in the stores, +at the offices, along the wharves, he sought in vain for +some employment. Hundreds of just such applications +were refused daily. All asked the name of some friend, he +had none to give but Dr. Kingsley. Some smiled at his +answers when asked what he could do. +</p> + +<p> +"He could keep books, copy law-papers, go errands, +clean pavements, sweep out offices, any thing that would +give him the means of an honest livelihood." +</p> + +<p> +Night came, but without a shelter. It was late, and he +was weary, so, turning into one of the market-houses, he +had no other resource. +</p> + +<p> +On one of the stalls lay a poor boy, pale and emaciated. +Roland saw that he was sick, so placing his valise under +his head, over which he had thrown some soft garment, +he laid himself down to sleep by his brother's side. "He +has more need than I," thought Roland, as he resigned the +softer pillow to the poor boy. Presently a police-officer +came along. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you about here, you young rascals? Have +you been out on a plundering job?" +</p> + +<p> +Roland raised his head and said, "I do not think, sir, +that you will find this poor boy to be a vagrant; and, as +for myself, I am poor and homeless, that is all." +</p> + +<p> +"New York is a bad place for a young chap like you to +be in, without a home." +</p> + +<p> +"I know it, sir; I have walked all day, searching for +work, but have found none; can you tell me what to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"I saw an advertisement for a boy in a printer's office, +perhaps you may do; but I am afraid that you are too +old." +</p> + +<p> +"If you will be so good as to give me the direction, I +will go in the morning, and see what success I shall have." +</p> + +<p> +After eating sparingly of his little stock, Roland started +to find the printer's office. +</p> + +<p> +"We do not take boys without references; you are too +old for us at any rate," and Roland was disappointed again. +Roving about, he asked permission to saw wood, to clean +pavements, and obtained a few such jobs; but his heart +was sinking; the promises were fading, and, at the close +of the third day, wearied and heart-sick, the same officer +met Roland again in the same market-place. +</p> + +<p> +"What! my boy, still roving about?" said the man. +</p> + +<p> +"I have walked for three days, and all that I could find +to do was to saw some wood, and to clean a few pavements. +I have but a few cents left, where shall I turn?" +</p> + +<p> +"Come home with me, I believe that you are an honest +boy; you shall not sleep out in the street again." +</p> + +<p> +And Richard Green took Roland with him to his +comfortable little home. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, wife, give this poor fellow a good supper and a +comfortable bed, he has come to this great city without +money or friends; we must do something for him." +</p> + +<p> +Martha Green was a rough woman, with a kind, womanly +heart; she had a son, about Roland's age, away at sea, +and she wiped her eyes with her hard, wrinkled hand, as +she asked, +</p> + +<p> +"Have you a mother, my son?" +</p> + +<p> +The question opened the flood-gates penned up in the +poor youth's heart, and, manly as he was, weakened by +suffering and hunger, he could not restrain the tears that +would burst forth, as he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"No, Mrs. Green, my mother is in heaven; I should be +doubly grieved if I thought that she knew of the trials of +these few hard days." +</p> + +<p> +The good woman busied herself about the neat kitchen, +and soon invited Roland to a warm and comfortable meal. +A cup of warm coffee, some nicely cooked meat and potatoes, +with home-made bread and butter, was a luxury which +he had not seen for weeks; and when, at last, he lay +down in the snug room on a clean bed, with everything +around him so comfortable, language could not express the +gratitude which filled his heart at the gracious answer to +his prayer. +</p> + +<p> +Cheered by the sympathy of these humble friends, +Roland set out again with renewed hope. +</p> + +<p> +Rambling about from street to street, his eye was at +length attracted by a sign, which directed him to the +"Noon-day Prayer Meeting." +</p> + +<p> +Taking his seat among the worshippers, he was pleased +to see Richard Green, his humble friend, among the +company. He felt that God was there, and deeply, earnestly, +did Roland pray for guidance. +</p> + +<p> +"I was glad to see you there, Richard," said Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you see, my son, I've been one of the roughs in +my time; but, since I've been coming here, I find that +there's something else to do in this world beside getting +bread and meat. I see a great deal in my line to make +me hate the ways of sin, for it always brings misery; so +I've given up all my bad ways, and, by the help of God, +I'm bound for Canaan." +</p> + +<p> +They walked back again to the officer's home, and, picking +up the paper, Roland perceived an advertisement—"Wanted, +a boy to clean a lawyer's office, go errands, etc., +with the privilege of reading law in the office." +</p> + +<p> +After dinner, he called upon Mr. Dean. He was questioned +closely as to his previous knowledge, his handwriting, +etc. Roland showed his letter from Dr. Kingsley, +speaking in the highest terms of his character and +acquirements. Mr. Dean was a shrewd man, and soon made an +engagement with Roland. +</p> + +<p> +Grateful to his dear Heavenly Father, Roland passed a +happy day, and wrote immediately to Effie, telling her of +his good fortune, and giving her his direction. +</p> + +<p> +Ere entering upon his labors, he walked down to the +Battery. All was so refreshing—the quiet water +so peaceful, its gentle murmurs calmed his fevered brow, +and, "Looking aloft" once more with cheerful hope, he +mused gratefully upon the past, hopefully upon the future. +</p> + +<p> +"How I should like Madeline to know something of my +good fortune," thought he; "but would I like her to know +of my poverty? my misery? Would I like her to know +that I had to sleep out two nights in the market-house, +and then dependent for shelter on a police officer?" +</p> + +<p> +Roland winced under these bitter thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +"The gulf is wide, indeed—when she emerges into the +gay world, she will forget the poor boy at Woodcliff." +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, Roland entered upon his duties; +they were endless—cleaning the office, making fires, +running errands, copying law papers, early and late, left but +little time for reading law; perhaps one hour a day was +all that he could save from his unceasing toil. +</p> + +<p> +Having considerable literary taste, he wrote frequently, +after retiring at night, articles for the daily press. +</p> + +<p> +They always seemed acceptable, and the Editor, who +really delighted to encourage young genius, advertised, +"If the person, writing over the signature of Randolph, +will call at the office, he will hear something to his +advantage." +</p> + +<p> +Roland called—the Editor was interested. +</p> + +<p> +"You must not write, my young friend, gratuitously. I +will compensate you for your articles; send me a weekly +contribution, and I will remunerate you." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was surprised and grateful—not aware of his +own merits, he had regarded these efforts simply as means +of improvement, and had not dreamed of compensation. +</p> + +<p> +He made the agreement with the Editor, and then, being +questioned as to his present employment, his kind friend +saw that he was overworked, and undervalued. In a week +or two, the friendly editor sent for Roland again, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"I have spoken to a distinguished lawyer of this city, +who is fond of bringing out young men; he is interested +in your story, and if you will wait a few minutes, he will +call here." +</p> + +<p> +In a short time, a gentleman, with a manly bearing, and +a bright, quick glance, entered the office. +</p> + +<p> +A short conversation with Roland completed the agreement, +and, as he was only engaged temporarily at Mr. Dean's, +it was soon announced that he must get another in +his place, for in a week more he would leave for a more +lucrative situation. +</p> + +<p> +Roland soon found himself among people infinitely more +refined, for Edgar and Helen Thornly were both attractive +young persons. +</p> + +<p> +Edgar had just returned from college; a gay young +fellow, whose chief occupation in life was the pursuit of +pleasure; and Helen, a lovely young girl, not long home +from boarding-school. +</p> + +<p> +Treated in all respects as an equal, he found the home +circle at Mr. Thornly's peculiarly agreeable, and in return +for these benefits, rendered at all times most faithful +service to his generous employer. +</p> + +<p> +Roland often felt concerned for the petted son of Mr. Thornly; +for furnished constantly with a full purse, he had +ample opportunity of enjoying the pleasures of the gay +world, and was becoming very rapidly one of the fast young +men of New York. It was true that he had a desk at his +father's office, but it was seldom occupied for any length +of time by the young man; for late hours at night made +corresponding hours in the morning; and, in the afternoon, +a drive with a fast horse generally closed the day. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Thornly occasionally remonstrated. +</p> + +<p> +"Just wait a little, father; you know that I have been +shut up so long at college, that it seems hard to go to work +as soon us I come home. I will be a smart lawyer yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Brother," said Helen, "whom do you think I met to-day +in Broadway? my old school-friend, Madeline Hamilton; +she is in New York, spending the Christmas vacation +with Mary Trevor." +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you invite her here, sister? I feel quite anxious +to see your 'queen of beauty.'" +</p> + +<p> +"You need not try to captivate Madeline; she is as proud +as Juno, and so far, quite indifferent to beaux." +</p> + +<p> +"She'll have plenty of admirers, sis, when she bursts +upon the world with all her wealth and beauty." +</p> + +<p> +Roland heard the announcement of her presence in New +York with mingled feelings—she was a young lady now, +how would she meet the old friend of his childish days? +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, are you fond of music?" asked young Thornly. +</p> + +<p> +"Extravagantly, but I have never heard any of the +celebrated singers." +</p> + +<p> +"We are going to the opera to-night; will you +accompany us?" +</p> + +<p> +Roland was a novice in the world of New York, and +thinking only of the music, he consented, and accompanied +the party. +</p> + +<p> +Bewildered at first with the delicious music, he scarcely +thought of the adjuncts; but the uncovered forms, the freedom +of the actresses, the sentiments of the opera translated +into English, shocked his sense of delicacy; and when he +looked around at the crowds of fair young faces, looking +and listening without a blush to much that was enacting +before them, he felt convinced that this was no place for a +Christian youth, and resolved accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +Near them, was seated a party of young persons deeply +interested in the performance. One especially attracted +him—the deep blue eyes, the profusion of soft brown hair, +the sweet expressive mouth, were certainly like those of his +little friend; but in the tall, graceful girl before him, he +scarcely could believe the evidence of his senses, when the +silvery voice revealed fully Madeline Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +He had not seen her for four years, and the sparkling, +bewitching child had merged into the lovely, blushing +maiden of sixteen. +</p> + +<p> +During one of the recesses between the acts she arose, +and stood facing the party near her. +</p> + +<p> +Roland caught her eye; she looked earnestly, then +smiled, and, with a bow of high-bred courtesy, recognized +her old friend. +</p> + +<p> +Roland felt that Madeline was no longer a child; he +returned her bow with equal politeness. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, at breakfast, Helen discussed with her +father all her arrangements for an evening party the +following week. +</p> + +<p> +Roland made one of the company, and watched anxiously +for each arrival, expecting every minute to see the friend +of his childhood. +</p> + +<p> +A ringing silvery laugh, as tripping feet passed up the +staircase to deposit her wrappings, announced the presence +of Madeline, the little Mad-cap of the sea-shore. +</p> + +<p> +She entered—a simple girlish dress became the young +maiden; for she remembered that she was yet a school-girl. +</p> + +<p> +She bowed gracefully when introduced to the company—a +bright blush and a smile acknowledged the acquaintance +of Roland Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced—"How are you, Miss Madeline? It has +been a long time since I saw you. When did you arrive +in New York?" +</p> + +<p> +A casting down of the eyes, and the slightest quiver of +a mischievous smile, crossed the bright young face. +</p> + +<p> +"Last week, Mr. Bruce. I am spending my vacation +with my friend, Miss Trevor." +</p> + +<p> +"When do you expect to return?" +</p> + +<p> +"In about ten days. One more year will complete my +school-life." +</p> + +<p> +"Then for the gay world, I suppose, Miss Madeline;" +and Roland smiled somewhat sadly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is our intention. We shall spend my first +winter in New York." +</p> + +<p> +"You have not forgotten the lessons at Woodcliff, I trust, +Miss Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline turned her face away, and bending her eyes +upon the ground, said, +</p> + +<p> +"I must speak the truth; I fear, that those lessons have +lost much of their power." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you happy now as then, Miss Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not when I stop to think; but I have not much time +for that." +</p> + +<p> +Listening seriously to Roland's earnest words, with eyes +bent, and hands folded reverently as of yore, the Roland +and Madeline of Maple Lane School stood once more revealed. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, the piano is waiting for you," said Helen; +and leading her young friend to the instrument, she +interrupted the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Dashing off into one of the most beautiful of the many +variations of fine old pieces, she ran through several +brilliant compositions, until at the close of "Auld Lang Syne," +she accompanied it with her charming voice, in all the +melting tenderness of former days. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was inexpressibly touched. +</p> + +<p> +"She has not quite forgotten those early days," thought +the youth. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Edgar Thornly gave his father much uneasiness, for his +indolence increased, his nightly dissipations became more +reckless—moreover, he seemed gloomy and abstracted. +</p> + +<p> +One day, a gentleman called to pay Mr. Thornly a fee +of two hundred dollars. He placed it in his desk, and +put the key in his pocket. Roland and Edgar were both +present. It was the duty of the former to lock the office +every evening; but on this occasion Edgar tarried. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it not time to lock the office?" said Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose so," was the answer; but still he lingered. +</p> + +<p> +At last Roland said, +</p> + +<p> +"I have an engagement, Edgar, and must lock up." +</p> + +<p> +"Can't I do it, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Edgar, your father directed me to see it locked +always before I leave." +</p> + +<p> +"You are mighty particular, Roland;" and, taking his +hat, Edgar left the room. +</p> + +<p> +Just before Roland closed the office finally, James, the +waiter, entered the room to replenish the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Be quick, James, I have an engagement." +</p> + +<p> +The man soon finished his work, and left the room. +Roland locked the door, and took his departure, placing +the key in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, Mr. Thornly wanted the money; on +opening the desk, the lock was picked, and the money +gone—who could have taken it? +</p> + +<p> +The waiter was called, and inquiries made of him. +</p> + +<p> +"The last one I saw there was Mr. Bruce," said the +man; "nobody has been there since." +</p> + +<p> +Edgar testified the same. +</p> + +<p> +"I saw it just before I left the room," said Roland. "I +saw you put the money in the drawer, Mr. Thornly; I was +the last person in the office; I locked the door and put the +key in my pocket; when I looked for the key this morning +it was gone, and when I went down to the office, it was +already open." +</p> + +<p> +"I was up first this morning," said the cook; "I was +in the cellar under the office, I heard some one moving +about in stocking feet; I thought it was very early, but I +supposed it was Mr. Bruce, and did not go to see who was +there." +</p> + +<p> +Roland <i>could have told</i> that he saw one of Edgar's +embroidered slippers close by the office door, and that when +he entered, the gas was left burning, and a knife, which he +had often seen Edgar use, lying under the table. +</p> + +<p> +Roland felt the perplexity of his situation; he knew that +suspicion pointed towards him, but he could not clear +himself without involving his employer's son. +</p> + +<p> +Just as he felt himself so happily, so usefully employed, +it was a hard thing to be cast again upon the world, and +under such circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +The breakfast was eaten in silence; the business of the +day pursued in the same formal manner. Edgar avoided +being alone with Roland, and the atmosphere of the whole +house was stifling. +</p> + +<p> +Before closing the office, Roland begged for a few minutes +conversation with Mr. Thornly. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel the terrible suspicion which rests upon me, +Mr. Thornly; I cannot stay here, a suspected man; painful as +the task is, I must go." +</p> + +<p> +"It is doubtless so; but, Mr. Bruce, I have placed +unlimited confidence in you, sir; I know not what to think." +</p> + +<p> +"Your confidence has never been abused, sir; the day +will come when my innocence shall be established; in the +meanwhile, I can wait." +</p> + +<p> +"What will you do, sir, without a reference?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know; but you will not make the affair +public? let me beg of you for many reasons not to do so." +</p> + +<p> +"I promise you not to do so; but do not send any one +to me until the affair is cleared up, I cannot recommend +you; it is all a mystery." +</p> + +<p> +"You are not going, Roland?" said Helen Thornly; "I +can't bear to see you so insulted, so wronged." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Miss Helen; but you must see that circumstances +around me are very dark—I can only declare my +innocence, and leave it all for Providence to proclaim my +honor." +</p> + +<p> +"My father will be the loser, Roland; I have my own +thoughts, and I will never rest until I find out the truth." +</p> + +<p> +"It has been a pleasant home, Miss Helen, but I must +leave it; my dear mother left me a precious motto on her + eath-bed, 'Looking aloft.' It has comforted me in many<br> +a weary hour; it is my refuge now." +</p> + +<p> +"Packing up his clothes immediately, he took a respectful +leave of all, thanking Mr. Thornly for all his kindness. +</p> + +<p> +"It will be right some day, Mr. Thornly; I can trust +and wait," were Roland's last words. +</p> + +<p> +Out again upon the cold world, Roland deposited his +clothes with his friend Richard Green, and, weary and sad, +walked down to the Battery. +</p> + +<p> +He had not paced the bank long, when Madeline, in +company with several gay young friends, passed by; her +careless, joyous laugh jarred upon his lacerated feelings, +and her ceremonious salutation completed the depression +of that weary day. +</p> + +<p> +Could she have known the sorrow of that noble heart, +would she have passed so coldly? +</p> + +<p> +No—although the poison of a letter received that day, +from Lavinia Raymond, rankled in her proud young heart. +</p> + +<p> +Roland paced the bank until midnight—midnight around, +and midnight within the tried young spirit; for faith could +not grasp the promises at once, in that hour of anguish. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XVI. +<br><br> +RUGGED HILLS FOR WEARY FEET. +</h3> + +<p> +Homeless once more, Roland sought an humble refuge, +in the house of his friend, the good police officer. Aware +of the difficulties which would beset his path, he shrank +from encounters with the rough world; for what could one +expect who had left an office like Mr. Thornly's suddenly, +and could bring no reference? +</p> + +<p> +He made the effort day after day, and although there +was so much in his whole bearing that was prepossessing, +none were willing to run the risk. Never had his prospects +appeared so discouraging, and never had he greater need +of all the support of the sweet talismanic words which had +guided and strengthened him so long. +</p> + +<p> +Devoting more time to his pen, his contributions to the +press were more frequent, and this resource was just now +invaluable, as it really did provide his daily food. +</p> + +<p> +In these days of darkness, Roland never passed the poor +news boys, or any who earned a precarious living in the +streets, without feelings of warmer, deeper interest. +Sometimes he would stop to look at some little, tired wanderer, +ragged, pale, friendless, sleeping perhaps in a packing-box, +in the market stalls, or wherever he could find shelter from +the weather, and he would often ask himself, +</p> + +<p> +"Can I do nothing for these poor, homeless children?" +</p> + +<p> +He weighed the matter seriously, and turned attention +to the subject, in the articles which he contributed to the +daily press. +</p> + +<p> +Writing from a full heart, that had passed through these +sorrows himself, his words were eloquent; and on making +an appeal to any who would be willing to aid in procuring +home and shelter for these poor outcasts, to meet him at +his humble lodgings, he waited anxiously for some response. +</p> + +<p> +A week passed. At length a thoughtful-looking man, +with very plain garb, sought him at the place appointed. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been interested in your articles, young man; I +came to ask what would you propose?" +</p> + +<p> +"I scarcely know, sir; but the misery and exposure of +this class haunt me daily, nightly. I have been told that +there are three thousand. In a great city like this, there +should be a home for such." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you aware that much money would be needed to +provide one?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know that, sir; but if it is the Lord's directing, He +will provide the money, if we will only use the means." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you time at your disposal?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have a great deal just now, and will do any thing that +you propose." +</p> + +<p> +"First, tell me your name." +</p> + +<p> +"It is Roland Bruce; I can show you a letter from the +President of the college where I graduated." And trusting +the plain, honest, benevolent face, he told his story to +the good man, not even reserving the trial at Mr. Thornly's. +</p> + +<p> +Mark Grafton was a keen physiognomist, and an eccentric +man; he smiled when he read the letter, for he had +fully made up his mind before to trust the open +countenance, and fine clear eye of Roland Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +"What I propose is this: I will give you a list of names +of influential men, who I know will give their aid in a +cause like this; you will call on them in my name, and +report progress to me every evening." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was delighted; here was an opportunity to +occupy his time with useful employment, to benefit a class +for whom his heart had often bled. +</p> + +<p> +He commenced his work with a sanguine, hopeful heart. +"Looking aloft," for God's especial blessing, he set out +with a bright, animated countenance, and a brisk, elastic +step. +</p> + +<p> +Praying daily for guidance, and leaving the cause of his +acquittal in the hands of the just and wise, and gracious +Disposer of human events, he was willing to leave the time +in God's own hands; the event he knew was sure. +</p> + +<p> +He was generally successful—many contributed largely +of their means, for he found that the name of Mark Grafton +was everywhere a sufficient recommendation. A few +presented a cold shoulder, but he had every reason to be +grateful, when at the end of a week, he numbered on his list +some two hundred subscribers. Mr. Grafton was more +than gratified, he was sanguine as to the result. As soon +as five hundred subscribers were obtained, they would +commence operations. +</p> + +<p> +A house was rented, provided with plain comforts which +to houseless wanderers would appear like luxuries; a +matron placed at the head, and then came the work of +gathering the outcasts. +</p> + +<p> +An advertisement was placed in the daily papers, and +several placards on the corners of the streets. +</p> + +<p> +"If boys who clean crossings, or sell matches and newspapers, +will meet this evening at No. 42 M—— street, they +will find something to their advantage." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Grafton and Roland waited anxiously—about half a +dozen came; accustomed so long to a roving life of +freedom, many thought that the advertisement pointed to +something which might restrain their liberty, and therefore +looked suspiciously at the notice. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Grafton explained his plans to the boys. Each one +connected with the home, must contribute one dollar per +week of his earnings, which would be put by in a fund for +his own especial benefit, when he should reach mature +years. So vicious themselves, they were slow to believe +in the truth or honesty of their fellows, and not one at +first could be found to agree to the plan proposed. +</p> + +<p> +"I give you a week to think about it, boys—you can stay +here all the time, and weigh the difference between a +comfortable home, where you will be provided with good +reading, careful instruction, pleasant recreations, and the +power of laying by some of your money; compare this +with a roving life among vicious boys, who often rob you, +and who are leading you away farther and farther from +ways of peace and respectability, until at last, you may +end your days in a prison, and spend eternity with the lost +and degraded; if you cannot come into all our arrangements +at the close of this week, you must depart, and we +offer the same to others." +</p> + +<p> +The boys listened carefully, but doubtingly. Roland +spent as much of his time with them as he could spare +from his daily duties connected with the Home, and with +his pen. +</p> + +<p> +Generally in the evening, he came and talked with them +for a couple of hours, listening to their accounts of the +day's labors, and reading to them some interesting matter. +He was taking care of his Master's cause among these poor +forsaken children, and God was taking care of his. Did he +doubt it? No—not for one moment. +</p> + +<p> +Time sped on; by degrees, the number of boys increased; +they were gaining confidence in their kind friends. +</p> + +<p> +Roland took up his abode among these waifs of humanity. +Many trials beset his path, many discouragements; for the +deep depravity of a whole life, short though it might have +been of these juvenile transgressors, was not to be rooted +out in a day, a week, or even a year. +</p> + +<p> +Habit was a strong giant that required the strong +antagonism of stalwart efforts; and blow after blow must be +levelled against the monster in the strength of Gospel +warfare, ere he would show signs of yielding to the attacks. +</p> + +<p> +But Roland's manliness and benevolence were really +undermining the citadel of sin, and in a few months he began +to see the fruit of their labors. +</p> + +<p> +About fifty boys were now inmates of the Home; they +were cleanly, interested in their mental improvement, +regular in their attendance upon Gospel ministrations every +Sunday; and although, now and then, their hopes were +disappointed by the absconding of several, still their +progress was onward. +</p> + +<p> +Let us turn for one moment to Mr. Thornly. From the +day that Roland left the office, Edgar's spirits drooped. +Helen watched him closely; her room was adjoining his; +and often, late in the night, she could hear him pacing his +room, and groaning, as if in great distress of mind. +</p> + +<p> +Once she opened the door—Edgar was tossing about, and +talking in his sleep. +</p> + +<p> +"Go away, Jones," muttered the youth, "I can't get the +money; two hundred dollars! two hundred dollars!" +</p> + +<p> +Helen's heart sank within her. She had sore misgivings +about her brother, but what was she to do? Could she +accuse him without farther proof? Could she bear to see +Roland suffering so wrongfully? +</p> + +<p> +Still her brother continued his late hours; seldom in +before one or two o'clock in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +Every few days, a man would call to see him; and Edgar +always appeared gloomy and distressed after these visits. +</p> + +<p> +Several times he was out; and when Helen asked the +name of the person who called so frequently, she found to +her grief that it was Jones. +</p> + +<p> +At last, he asked to see Mr. Thornly; then came the +dreadful disclosure. Edgar had been gambling to a large +amount, and was indebted to this man several thousand +dollars. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Thornly was horror-struck; Edgar bowed down to +the dust in shame; Helen overpowered with grief. +</p> + +<p> +"It has come at last, brother. I knew that some +dreadful grief was approaching—but is there not something +worse than all, that is not yet revealed?" +</p> + +<p> +Edgar turned his blood-shot eyes upon his sister. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean, Helen? Do you mean to crush +me entirely?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Edgar, I do not; but I want you to commence anew—give +up all your bad associates—do justice to one that +you have wronged." +</p> + +<p> +Edgar bowed his head upon his hands. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish that I were dead, Helen; I am too wretched!" +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar, can you not tell me something about the two +hundred dollars that sent poor Roland away?" +</p> + +<p> +Edgar was silent; he groaned bitterly; and striking his +head with anguish, he paced the floor in agony. +</p> + +<p> +"I can endure this no longer, Helen; I took that money; +I was threatened by Jones with exposure, and I took it; +how it has burned me ever since!" +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I tell our father, Edgar? it is better for all to +come out." +</p> + +<p> +"Do what you please, Helen; I must have relief." +</p> + +<p> +Helen had a hard task to perform, but she was a true +sister, and saw no other path by which Edgar could retrace +his steps. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Thornly was almost paralyzed—but reproach was +not to be used towards a spirit so crushed as Edgar's; he +was suffering enough of agony. +</p> + +<p> +His had been the error of a weak and yielding nature, +furnished too abundantly the means of indulgence, rather +than the deep duplicity of an accomplished villain. +</p> + +<p> +"Justice must be done to Roland," was the first response +of Mr. Thornly. +</p> + +<p> +On the next morning, Roland's eye caught the following +notice: "If Roland G. B——, will call at the office of +Mr. Thornly, he will hear something important." +</p> + +<p> +"The day of deliverance," thought Roland; and, taking +his hat, with a joyful step and overflowing heart, he made +his way to Mr. Thornly's office. +</p> + +<p> +His former employer was seated at his desk. +</p> + +<p> +"I have proofs of your innocence, Roland, and I have +sent for you to do you justice;" then, with a sadly grieved +and humbled spirit, the father recounted the story in as +few words as possible. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew that my innocence would be proved," answered +the youth, "and I left my cause with God." +</p> + +<p> +"Had you any idea of the truth at that time, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I had, sir; I saw Edgar's slipper near the door, and +found his knife under the table, with which he had picked +the lock. I saw his depression for days before, and I +supposed that some debt was pressing heavily upon him, +which he could not discharge." +</p> + +<p> +"And you bore all this quietly, gave up a promising +situation, left a comfortable home, and went out upon the +world friendless, homeless, without a character, rather +than expose my son, or pain his father's heart. Truly, yours +is conduct not often met with in this cold and selfish +world." +</p> + +<p> +"It was my duty, sir; I could do nothing else; there +were only suspicious circumstances, not actual proof." +</p> + +<p> +"And what have you been doing in the meanwhile?" +</p> + +<p> +"I could obtain no employment among lawyers, I have +therefore been writing for the press; and been busy in +establishing a home for friendless boys, like myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean the one in which Mark Grafton is interested?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do, sir; it has been a great blessing to me, for instead +of dwelling upon my own griefs, I have been trying to +lighten those of others, more oppressed than myself." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Thornly was silent for a moment. He was a worldly +man, but this exhibition of Christian principle stirred up +the fountains of his heart. Extending his hand, he said, +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, can I ask you to come back again, after all +that has passed? It would be to me a personal favor." +</p> + +<p> +"I am but too happy, sir, to take my old desk; I believe +that the finger of Providence has pointed me here, and I +trust that we shall be mutual blessings to each other." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you forgive my poor son, Roland? he is humbled +to the dust." +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive! certainly, sir; nothing is more easy, nothing +more delightful." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you do more? I believe that this deep disgrace +will be the turning point of a new life with Edgar, if we +only encourage him; will you be his friend, Roland?" +said Mr. Thornly, laying his hand upon the young man's +shoulder, and looking in his face with a father's pleading +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You may trust me, sir," was the frank, noble answer. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, Roland took his place in the office once +more. +</p> + +<p> +His meeting with Edgar was most painful. +</p> + +<p> +"Say nothing, Edgar," was Roland's first salutation, +when the young man sat down, covering his face with his +hands. +</p> + +<p> +"I know all—words are unnecessary; all is forgiven, +entirely buried between us; henceforth I am your friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Roland Bruce, language cannot tell what a cordial +those few words are to me. I feel so desponding, so +crushed; I have no companions, I go nowhere." +</p> + +<p> +"That is better just now, Edgar; but after a little while, +you will come and read law with me." +</p> + +<p> +Edgar spent all his time in the office. Roland provided +him, at first, with pleasant reading; then, by degrees, he +proposed the course which he had pursued himself. Edgar +was but too willing to be guided by such a hand, and +Mr. Thornly and Helen looked on with speechless gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was still interested in his homeless boys, and +paid his periodical evening visits. It was, indeed, a +comfort to see what a marked change was observed in so +many. +</p> + +<p> +One day, he was greatly surprised on perceiving a letter +addressed to him in printed characters. On opening it, +there was a check for one hundred dollars, for the "Home," +"from one deeply interested." Where could it come from? +was his question. Could it be from Madeline? How +would she know about his actions? Suddenly it occurred +to him that Helen corresponded with her, and the thought +that she might be thus a fellow laborer with him was very +sweet, and he encouraged the fancy. +</p> + +<p> +This was, indeed, a turning point in Edgar Thornly's +life—from this time, his whole course was changed, and +his grateful father could not by words thank his young +mentor; actions proved his gratitude. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +At the close of the second year, Roland was admitted to +the bar. Mr. Thornly threw all the business in his way +that could be thus controlled, and Roland's course was +upward and onward. +</p> + +<p> +Twice had he visited Effie during this period, found her +happy, but with very weak eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was never at home when he paid his visits; +therefore, she seemed to him almost like one from whose +society he was finally shut out. +</p> + +<p> +Practice increased—his sound learning, practical common +sense, and deep investigation into the science of law, +opened a path of usefulness and honor. It could, however, +never be said of Roland Bruce, that he was the lawyer +sought out by low criminals, or whose influence could be +purchased to legalize crime; for, though heavy fees were +offered by such, knowingly, he would not stoop to practices +so degrading. He soon obtained the name of "the honest +lawyer," and none were more proud of his rising influence +and talents, than the generous man who had afforded him +so many facilities in his upward course. +</p> + +<p> +"That is an important case, Roland," said Mr. Thornly, +after he had described to the latter, what had been placed +in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +The man had been charged with murder, and the circumstances +by which he was surrounded were overwhelming +in their proofs against him. By skillfully managing the +case, and obtaining delay, proofs establishing his innocence +were obtained at a time when all around the poor man was +darkest. The accused man was one universally esteemed; +the joy felt at his acquittal was so intense, that, throughout +the city, the press complimented the young lawyer for the +ingenuity with which he had conducted the trial. +</p> + +<p> +This success brought him into public notice, and restored +to the arms of an only and heart-broken daughter, the +parent whom she loved. A paper containing the account +was sent to Effie, and, handing it to Madeline, who was +then at home, the sister's heart was cheered by the +warm embrace with which Maddy congratulated the dear +girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Did I not say, Effie, that Roland would live to be a +great man yet? Won't we be happy to see him here +among the Beltons and the Smiths? Effie, do you know +why he seems to have forgotten his old friend?" (for a +minute she hesitated, and then continued with an averted +face,) "does he ever mention Helen Thornly in his +letters?" +</p> + +<p> +"O yes! very often, Madeline; he says she is such a +lovely girl, he wishes that I knew her; she is a dear friend +of his." +</p> + +<p> +"So I have heard, Effie," and Madeline said no more; +but, opening the piano, she played several of her old pieces, +but especially the favorite "Auld Lang Syne;" then, +walking out to the garden, she plucked a rose from her +favorite bush, and proceeding back into the house, and up +the stair-case, she stopped to listen to the strains of her +Eolian harp. +</p> + +<p> +It discoursed sad music that night, or was it the echo of +her own spirit? +</p> + +<p> +"I did not think that he would have forgotten me so +soon," murmured Madeline; "but so it is, present friends +obliterate the memory of the absent. I must try to +forget him; but I cannot quite forget the holy teachings of +my young days, nor would I if I could—may they remain +forever!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XVII. +<br><br> +MIRAGE, OR MADELINE AFTER A TRIUMPH. +</h3> + +<p> +"Well, daughter, I suppose that I must leave my +retirement, for this winter at least," said Mr. Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +"So you promised, papa; I am looking forward to the +season with great expectations. Mary Trevor is impatient +for us to come early, she has so much in store for me. +There are Mrs. Peyton, and Mrs. Rossiter, and Mrs. Starr, +all waiting anxiously for us; they give such elegant parties, +papa." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton looked with an expression of proud exultation +upon his beautiful daughter, and anticipated the sensation +that the advent of such a bright star would make in +the world of fashion. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was full of eager anticipation, but not heartless; +she really regretted the parting with Effie, and the +loneliness which she knew the young girl would suffer +during her absence; for Mr. Hamilton and Aunt Matilda +would both accompany the young heiress. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, Effie, to leave you; but the winter will +soon pass; you will busy yourself with looking after the +house, with your needle and your books; and write often, +dear." +</p> + +<p> +Effie sighed, as she almost whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, a great weight is on my heart; I find my +eyes daily becoming more and more dim; if the outer +world should all be dark to me, what a poor useless being +I should be, and what a burden to my friends!" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't imagine such an affliction, dear Effie; Dr. Jenks +shall attend to your case at once; but do try to keep up +your spirits. I have often thought, Effie, that we ought to +try to do something for the people in the neighborhood; +there are several families that we have been accustomed to +help; I will appoint you my almoner. There are four old +persons to be supplied with warm garments and coal for +the winter; and three or four invalids that need weekly +care. Nanny makes gruel or other comforts for Mary +Swain the cripple, and it would be a pleasure to me to know +that they are all attended to." +</p> + +<p> +Effie brightened at the prospect of such work, for +employment like this was the element of her nature. +</p> + +<p> +"Take good care of my flowers, Effie, especially my +rosebush, and when I come back, let me see some roses on +your pale cheeks, dear." +</p> + +<p> +"You will not forget me, dear friend, that I know," said +Effie, folding her affectionately in her arms, and pressing +a loving kiss upon her cheek, she whispered, "do not +forget the Blessed Saviour, Madeline; you will be surrounded +by a thousand temptations." +</p> + +<p> +A tear glistened in Madeline's eye, but she dashed it +aside, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Effie, don't be distressed about me; some of these days +I will be just as good as you can wish, but I must have a +peep at the gay world first." +</p> + +<p> +"Some of these days, Madeline; how little do we know +about the days appointed us." +</p> + +<p> +The day of departure arrived; the trunks were all +strapped; Mr. Hamilton and Aunt Matilda seated in the +carriage, and Madeline, folding her humble friend in her +arms once more, took her seat by her father. +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell, Effie, be bright and cheerful, dear; we shall +soon be back again." +</p> + +<p> +The young girl stood upon the piazza as long as she +could see the carriage, and turning into the house with a +sad heart, Effie sought and found the comfort that she +needed, at the feet of her own dear Saviour. +</p> + +<p> +Let us follow Madeline to the scene of her introduction +into the gay world. +</p> + +<p> +Established in an elegant suite of rooms in one of the +most fashionable hotels in New York, Madeline and her +aunt were busily occupied in giving orders for her winter +outfit. +</p> + +<p> +This was Aunt Matilda's element, and neither expense +nor pains were spared on the wardrobe of the young lady. +</p> + +<p> +Soon cards from the upper circles of the great metropolis +multiplied in the card basket of our young novice. +</p> + +<p> +All was pleasure and excitement, and weeks were occupied +in returning these numerous visits, and attending to +milliners, dressmakers, &c. Madeline's first appearance +for the season was at the ball of Mrs. Rossiter, one of the +leaders of fashion in New York. +</p> + +<p> +Attired in the most exquisite taste, for the first time her +mother's diamonds adorned her person. +</p> + +<p> +When she entered the elegant room, leaning upon the +arm of her father, all eyes were turned towards her, in +whispers of admiration. +</p> + +<p> +As she passed, "Beautiful!" "exquisite!" "charming!" +greeted her everywhere. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us be seated, papa," murmured Madeline, for the +public gaze was oppressive. +</p> + +<p> +She was the centre of attraction the whole evening, her +hand sought for in every dance; truly, the young girl was +completely bewildered and intoxicated. +</p> + +<p> +And so, night after night, the ovation of flattery was +laid at the feet of Madeline Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +Harry Castleton was among the most devoted of her +admirers; but he was simply tolerated, for Madeline saw +through the shallowness of his pretensions, and really +pitied his contemptible folly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, papa, who do you think is the reigning star this +winter?" said Helen Thornly. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know much about the gay world now, daughter, +for I tired of it long ago; but I suppose every season +has its own particular star, that shines a little while, to be +eclipsed by another." +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline Hamilton is the theme of every tongue; her +beauty, her wealth, her accomplishments, have made her +all the ton—the beaux are crazy to be found in her train, +and the belles are dying of envy." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you met her anywhere, Helen?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, papa, at Mrs. Trevor's—she is splendid in her +point lace and diamonds. I wish you could have seen her; +and yet she does not seem vain. She always was an +artless, impulsive girl; but I think New York will spoil her +simplicity." +</p> + +<p> +Roland listened to the remarks, and felt a deeper sinking +of the heart, as he realized the ordeal through which +Madeline was passing; but still, remembering all the past, and +the power of first impressions, he could look upward, and +trust that she would yet come out unscathed. Her world +was entirely remote from his; they met but occasionally, +and that in the street, but seldom at Mr. Thornly's. +</p> + +<p> +The opera, balls, parties innumerable, engrossed her time, +but was she happy? +</p> + +<p> +Let us follow her awhile after her evening triumph. She +had spent the evening at Mrs. Starr's, one of the gayest +parties of the season. +</p> + +<p> +Magnificent dressing, the most costly viands of the table, +the most fashionable band of music, scores of admirers, and +strains of the most intoxicating flattery met her everywhere. +Her triumph was complete. +</p> + +<p> +Was Madeline happy? To have looked at her bright +young face beaming with smiles, to have listened to her +musical laugh, and sparkling repartee, to have watched her +light and airy motions in the graceful waltz, one would +have pronounced her the gayest of the gay. +</p> + +<p> +But there was a depth in the heart of Madeline Hamilton +which could not be filled by these empty vanities, a thirst +for a better life, which could never be satisfied with this +mere mirage in the pilgrimage of an immortal. +</p> + +<p> +Wearied and heart-sick, she enters her dressing-room, +and seating herself, commences disrobing. +</p> + +<p> +Unbinding her luxuriant hair, she lays aside the glittering +ornaments and the faded flowers; leaning her head +upon her hands, she weeps over the emptiness of her daily +life. +</p> + +<p> +Placing her jewels in a small casket, she opens a little +box in her writing-desk; reverently she turns over the +leaves of an old book, revealing branches of withered +seaweed; and in another corner of the desk, a cluster of +common shells. The sight of these simple things opens the +flood-gates of her heart; and, pressing the sea-weed to her +burning lips, she weeps in the anguish of her spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Memory is busy—back to the sea-shore, the Maple Lane +School, the cemetery, the little cottage of the humble +widow. +</p> + +<p> +The present is fading—she had had a distant view of the +glittering world; she had longed for its pleasures; nearer +and nearer had she approached the shining lake where she +hoped to quench her thirst; but, stooping down to drink, +she had found the world like the mirage in the burning +sands of the desert, a mere illusion! a mighty cheat! +O! for an hour of those early days! those simple childish +pleasures! O! for the teachings of that young Mentor, who +so wisely controlled the impetuosity of her high spirit, and +tamed the wilfulness of her proud young heart. +</p> + +<p> +She had listened to the tones of flattery, until they had +palled upon her ear, and sickened her heart; and for one +approving, yea, even one kind reproving glance of the dark +eye of Roland Bruce, she would have given all, and more +than all that the world had ever given her. +</p> + +<p> +She recalls the holy lessons that had led her young heart +to think of better things. +</p> + +<p> +She compares Roland's character with all that she had +met in the gay world, and feels that was mere tinsel; his +was pure and solid gold. +</p> + +<p> +She touches the simple weeds with fond, caressing fingers, +and almost resolves to turn away from the gay, glittering +throng. +</p> + +<p> +But alas! the friend of her youth is lost to her. +</p> + +<p> +She believes the tale that Lavinia has so often told, and +almost envied Helen Thornly the daily companionship of +such a spirit as the one that had forgotten her. +</p> + +<p> +"But I may cherish these dear mementoes yet," sighed +Madeline; "they speak of such holy, blessed things, that +even the sight of them refreshes me." +</p> + +<p> +Placing them reverently in her desk, she commits +herself to God's keeping, and retires to her rest. +</p> + +<p> +The world was fast losing its hold upon Madeline; the +power of early teaching was returning. +</p> + +<p> +"Papa, shall we go home early in the season?" said +Madeline; "I long for Woodcliff." +</p> + +<p> +"Just as soon as you please, daughter; are you getting +tired of the gayeties of New York?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am sick of them, papa; I would rather spend one +month at Woodcliff now, where I could ramble by the old +sea-shore, sail in my own boat on the clear lake, or ride +dear old Selim up and down the lanes, as I used to when +a child." +</p> + +<p> +Her father smiled, for he longed for the elegant +retirement of his own home; but Aunt Matilda remonstrated. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely, brother, you will not allow Madeline to be so +foolish; she might, at least, spend the whole season here." +</p> + +<p> +"She may do just as she pleases, Matilda," was the +answer; "I am glad that she retains her love of domestic +life, after all the gayety of this winter." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda sought Mr. Hamilton's private ear. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope that you will not listen to Madeline's folly, +brother, after going to so much expense in bringing her +out, and when so many of the very first in the land are +ready to lay their fortunes at her feet, here you are marring +her prospects for a mere whim." +</p> + +<p> +"Really, Matilda, I did not bring Madeline to market, I +am not so anxious to be rid of my daughter, and if she is +more happy in domestic life than in the gay world, I am +only too glad to encourage the feeling. She has seen just +what the world is, and has sense enough to understand its +hollowness." +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Roland is rising rapidly in his profession, still interested +in his "Home for the News-boys," and esteemed by his kind +and generous patron. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know, papa," said Helen, one day, "that +Madeline is going home; here in the very midst of all her +triumphs, she is longing for Woodcliff—so she says, but she +always was a strange girl; I don't know what to think of +her." +</p> + +<p> +Roland felt a thrill of joy pass through his heart at this +intelligence, for it seemed to say that Madeline was not +spoiled by the gay world. How he longed to see her, and +his wish was speedily gratified. +</p> + +<p> +A carriage stopped at Mr. Thornly's door, which he +recognized at once as Mr. Hamilton's—in the next minute, +Madeline stepped out, and sent the carriage away. It was +not a mere call, then, and he hoped to see her, ere she left +New York. +</p> + +<p> +She had come to spend a social evening with Helen, and +Roland having the free entrance to the drawing-room at all +times, sought his young friend. +</p> + +<p> +"You are going to leave us, Miss Madeline," was his +first salutation. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I really long for Woodcliff; a peep at New York +life has been sufficient." +</p> + +<p> +A bright smile passed over Roland's face. "I was afraid, +or rather I thought that you might have been intoxicated +by its flattery." +</p> + +<p> +"It is very empty, Mr. Bruce, all mirage and outside +show; I want something better; point lace and diamonds, +with glitter and show without sincerity, will not satisfy +one that once longed for inward peace." +</p> + +<p> +They are sitting apart from the rest, who were engaged +in their own conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Roland drew near to Madeline, and in a low tone, he +whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, do you long for this better life now?" +</p> + +<p> +She blushed deeply at the old familiar name, as she +replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Most intensely, Roland; the world has lost its charms +for me." +</p> + +<p> +Just then, Helen stepped up, and interrupted the +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you not persuade Madeline to sing?" said the +young girl. +</p> + +<p> +"If you will favor us first, Helen;" and Roland led +her to the piano, and stood turning over the leaves for her, +while she sang. +</p> + +<p> +Was it the tenderness of a lover, or the mere interest of +a friend that marked his manner towards Helen? inquired +Madeline of her heart. +</p> + +<p> +There was something in the glance of Helen that +betrayed more than a common interest. But what meant +Roland's whispered words? old affection? or mere brotherly +regard for one whom he remembered as a mere wayward +child? +</p> + +<p> +After Helen, she took her seat at the piano, and song +after song was called for. +</p> + +<p> +With all the simplicity of childish days, she poured forth +those strains of thrilling melody, once heard, never to be +forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Roland shaded his eyes to hide the deep emotion which +he could not control, when she warbled forth, "Ye banks +and braes o' Bonny Doon," with the sweet pathos of her +touching voice. He could not answer, even when she +turned, and with the innocence of early days, said, in a +low tone, +</p> + +<p> +"That was your mother's favorite, Mr. Bruce." +</p> + +<p> +He bowed, but could not reply. +</p> + +<p> +The evening passed; Madeline spoke her farewells to the +family. +</p> + +<p> +Roland handed her to the carriage +</p> + +<p> +"Remember me in your daily prayers, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you, Madeline, forever and ever; and I feel +that he will with his choicest blessings." +</p> + +<p> +"Helen is a sweet girl; I hope that you may be happy." +</p> + +<p> +The carriage drove off—Roland retired to muse upon the +evening, and the next day, Madeline was on her road to +Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +On the following day, a note was delivered to Roland +with a check for one hundred dollars for the "Home for the +News-boys." +</p> + +<p> +Once more in sight of Woodcliff, Madeline's heart beat +warmly towards every object around her dear home. +</p> + +<p> +Effie was on the piazza to meet her, but Madeline was +shocked to see the change in the dear girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! how welcome you are, Madeline! I have been so +lonely; if it had not been for the poor people that you gave +me to take care of, I should have been dreary enough; for +Dr. Jenks will not allow me to use my eyes at all." +</p> + +<p> +"I am so glad to be back at the dear old home, Effie." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you did not stay as long as you intended, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I begged papa to bring me home; I have seen +enough of New York; I never was made for fashionable +life, Effie." +</p> + +<p> +"And you really have come back to us, Madeline, perfectly +free, notwithstanding all the fortunes that have been +laid at your feet." +</p> + +<p> +"How did you hear all this, Effie? +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Matilda used to write us such descriptions of your +numerous conquests, that I often felt as if we had lost you +altogether." +</p> + +<p> +"You need never be afraid of such empty-headed fops +as I have seen, Effie; I scarcely met a man of sense while +I was away." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline felt the need of some strong guiding hand in +her present state of feeling; and, after she had been at +home a few weeks, begged her father to allow her to visit +Aunt Clara once more. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton felt as if he could scarcely spare her. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall not stay long, papa; I do so want to see my +dear aunt, and she has written for me so often." +</p> + +<p> +"You may go, Madeline, if you will promise me to +return in one month; no longer, my daughter; I want you +near me, my dear child, for I am not so well as usual." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps I had better stay, papa." +</p> + +<p> +"No, Madeline, you can go; if I need you, I will send +for you." +</p> + +<p> +On the evening before her departure, she had visited the +library, and turning over some familiar books, she came at +last to her portfolio, that she had used when a school-girl. +Listlessly looking through its contents, a card dropped out, +on which was sketched what she was sure was a picture of +herself, as she appeared on the evening when she had first +met Roland. +</p> + +<p> +It was a spirited little picture; but who had drawn it? +</p> + +<p> +She hurried to Effie, and holding up the card, said, +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know who sketched this?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think it must have been Roland; for one evening +when he was here, he was a long time in the library; and +I know that he draws beautifully." +</p> + +<p> +Looking on the back of the card, she saw the initials +R.G.B., and soon the sweet memento was placed among +Madeline's treasures. +</p> + +<p> +Taking Hector as her companion, she sought the dearest +spot around Woodcliff, and soon seated on the rock near +the old flag-staff, memory wandered over the past. +</p> + +<p> +The incident in the library had touched her deeply; but +then that was simply a memory of childhood, and she had +doubtless been forgotten since that time, or only remembered +as an old friend; for had not Lavinia declared more +than once that Roland was actually betrothed to Helen +Thornly; for her own cousin had said so. +</p> + +<p> +Ere she left the shore, she visited old Peter. He was +living yet, and hastened to meet the young lady whom he +had so often seen on the sea-shore. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, dear me! the children will grow to be men and +women, it seems; but a little while ago since you and +Roland were skipping about here as happy children; now, +you are a young lady, and Roland such a fine-looking +young man! The last time he was down, he came to visit +me in the old cabin—says he, 'Peter, you don't care for +that little shoe that is up in the shelf?'" +</p> + +<p> +"No," says I, "it is no use to me, but I kept it a good +while because the little girl dropped it here, and she was a +bright child, and very good to Uncle Peter." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you give it to him?" inquired Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I did, and he placed it in his pocket, and took it +away—a queer fancy for a young man to be hoarding up +old shoes." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he ask for one of yours, Uncle Peter?" inquired +Madeline, with her old smile of mischief. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless your heart! my young lady, he did not want my +old shoes; for he only wanted that one, because it belonged +to the little foot that used to run about here on the old +beach." +</p> + +<p> +This was pleasant talk, and she wondered if Roland +really did think as much of the little shoe as she did of the +faded sea-weed that lay hidden in the desk. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose that he did <i>then</i>," thought she; "but that +perhaps was before he knew Helen Thornly." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you comfortable, Uncle Peter?" asked the young +girl, before she left the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you see, Miss, I should like to have some tobacco; +mine is about gone, and it is hard enough to get it +sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall have some, Uncle Peter;" and the next day +Madeline sent to the nearest store for a good supply for the +old man. +</p> + +<p> +"God bless her bright young face! she always had a +warm heart, but a quick, high temper. I wonder how it is +now; she'll come all right by-and-bye." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline wondered for several days what Roland had +done with the little shoe; but she guessed at last that it +thrown away before this. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XVIII. +<br><br> +THE EARLY DAWN. +</h3> + +<p> +"I shall not leave you long, dear papa," was Madeline's +farewell; and Aunt Clara was but too happy to see +her dear niece once more. +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard glowing accounts of your winter in New +York, Madeline; I really was afraid that you would be +wholly intoxicated by its temptations." +</p> + +<p> +"I was for awhile, dear aunt, but I discovered that all +was mere mirage; there was an inner life that was wholly +starved in that heartless round of folly." +</p> + +<p> +"How did you spend your time, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"In dressing, shopping, singing, waltzing, going to the +opera, making and receiving calls, in hearing frothy talk, +and scandalous remarks, in listening to the flattery of a +score of empty-headed fops, coming home tired at night, +sleeping late next morning, and longing for one sight of +nature, one true friend, one satisfying portion. Aunt Clara, +I learned to loathe the empty life, and I have come to you +longing for something better." +</p> + +<p> +Folding her niece in her arms, she imprinted a warm kiss +on the fair young forehead, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"There are fountains of living water, Madeline; these +only can quench the burning thirst of an immortal spirit." +</p> + +<p> +"I must find them, dear Aunt Clara, for I am fainting +for thirst." +</p> + +<p> +Lucy Edmonds was happy again, for dearly did she love +the warm-hearted girl. Madeline's openness, her generous +heart, her plain bluntness, her perfect transparency of +character, charmed her, and contrasted with Lavinia's worldliness +and vanity; it was really refreshing to hear her sweet +young voice, and see her moving about again in her aunt's +household. +</p> + +<p> +This was an important era in the life of Madeline Hamilton, +for a great change was passing silently in her moral +nature, and a peep into her journal will reveal something +of her inner life. +</p> + +<p> +"New York. At length I have seen something of this +bright world, of which I have heard so much. Last night +was my first appearance at Mrs. Rossiter's ball. Dear +papa spared no expense upon my dress; it was exquisite—white +silk with point lace, flowers, and my mother's diamonds. +I suppose that it was a beautiful vision that +dawned upon the world, for the language of flattery and +admiration met me on every side; and, must I say it? I +was, for awhile, pleased with the cup offered to my lips. +Papa was gratified, Aunt Matilda in ecstasies, and I, while +in the midst of the gay scene, was enchanted—all was so +new, so beautiful, so grand. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did I sigh when I entered my dressing-room, and +shut out the world? And yet I did sigh, and said to +myself, 'Is this all? Empty heart! what is it longing for? +With everything this world can give, but within, an aching +void.' +</p> + +<p> +"I have seen Roland, saw him at church, but he did not +see me. How calm! how devotional his whole manner! +O, for the peace that he enjoys! +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Grafton called a few days ago to see papa; all his +talk was of Roland. Roland's goodness! Roland's +benevolence! Roland's talents! It was a pleasant +theme—and, when he told about the News-boys' Home, which he +had helped to establish, I felt so proud of him. I wonder +what made him think so much of the news-boys! could he +have been once as poor, as destitute as they? Mr. Grafton +hinted it. Poor Roland! what he must have suffered! +But why should I feel proud of him? He is Helen +Thornly's betrothed; so the world thinks, so Mr. Grafton +supposes, and Lavinia Raymond declares. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"At the opera, last night, the music was divine; but the +bewildering acting, the unchaste appearance of the women, +the glitter and parade of the audience,—was this what +Roland would approve of? +</p> + +<p> +"I lead two lives, one in the outside world, where all is +show, and giddy pleasure; another, an inner life, with +every fibre of my nature sending out its clasping tendrils +to reach something substantial, enduring, satisfying. Like +the delicate air-plant fluttering in the breeze, I stretch +forward to grasp it, but it is gone. I have not found it yet. +Who would believe it, that sees Madeline Hamilton +surrounded by flatterers, intoxicated for the moment with the +gay blandishments of the world, smiling, waltzing, +sparkling in magnificence? Who would believe that, in the +silence of the night, she mourns, and weeps, and longs for +something better. +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard of that better part, that higher life, from +Mrs. Bruce, from Aunt Clara, from Roland. I have seen +it in the calm tranquillity of their daily life, in the blessed +hopes of a Christian's death. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Last night, I was at Mrs. Rossiter's ball; it was +superb! but Oh! how hollow! Even while receiving the +hospitalities of their hostess, how many heartless ones did +I hear whispering disparaging remarks, criticizing the +entertainment, and prophesying the downfall of the +establishment. I am sick of this folly—would that I were back at +Woodcliff, among the green trees, the quiet lanes, the grand +old ocean, the solemn cemetery, with dear Effie, my good +old Hector, faithful Selim, my pets, my flowers; anything +but this heartless, empty show. +</p> + +<p> +"O! what an hour I spent when I retired! I opened +my desk, and there lay the dear old sea-weed, given so +long ago by my best friend, my childish guide, my model +boy—now such a noble man. I pressed them to my +burning lips; what would I give for one hour's heart +communion, such as we used to love in days that are gone. +He could guide me, he could strengthen me, but he is gone, +he is another's now. Then I prayed—yes, earnestly—fervently; +and I resolved that this empty, frothy, sinful +life should end. It must be sinful; it cannot be right that +an accountable creature should spend the solemn days of +probation in such frivolity. +</p> + +<p> +"Next morning, I told papa that we must go home—Aunt +Matilda opposed it—she does not understand me, +but Roland does. I met him at Helen Thornly's—something +of the old tenderness in his manner; but still there +is a gulf between us which seems impassable. But I can +cherish the memory of all that he used to be, and all that +he has taught me. All that I know of goodness, and high +and holy things, I have learned from that beggar boy, as +Harry Castleton has dared to call him, and even now! I +felt as if I could wither him with my scorn, and certainly +annihilated him with one of my haughtiest looks, for I have +not seen him since that day. Harry Castleton scorn +Roland Bruce! Roland in a cottage, struggling with +poverty, as I have seen him, with the grand and lofty +spirit of the Gordons; and Harry Castleton, rolling in +wealth, the dweller in a palace, would be simply Roland +and Harry still. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"At home again! How I ran about with my winter +hood, and water-proof, visiting the old familiar spots, and +rejoicing in the presence of my dumb pets. The dear old +library—my harp and piano, like faithful friends, seemed to +welcome me again; the sweet Eolian sounded out a loud +pæan, for sharp March winds swept over its strings, and it, +too, seemed rejoicing. +</p> + +<p> +"How shall I occupy my time? There is a great deal +here to do. I should like to do some good in the world, +and live for something beside myself. +</p> + +<p> +"Could I not gather a little group of poor children, and +teach them? Could I not establish something like a parish +school? There are so many poor people around us, that +only live a wild life,—children of the fishermen. Effie could +help me, and we would be so happy together. Then, after +awhile, we might perhaps have the services of our own +church; I could get a missionary to come here twice +a-month from Boston, and then we may have a church of our +own; but I must see Aunt Clara first, she can direct me. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"I am with Aunt Clara again. There is rest in her +very smile; the soft silver hair lies so quietly around her +mild face; the peace of God breathes in every look and +motion. She is so different from Aunt Matilda—she draws +me heavenward; Aunt Matilda drags me down. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor aunty! what a pity that she has nothing but the +things of this world to lean upon! no wonder that she feels +their insecurity. But, dear Aunt Clara, so patient, so +peaceful, so happy. I can pour out my whole heart, I can +tell her all my thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +"She seems to anticipate all I have to say. How sweet +the name of Jesus sounds, uttered by her lips! She talks +to me of his tenderness, his fulness, his preciousness, until +sometimes I feel, 'None but Jesus!' +</p> + +<p> +"Then clouds come again—I lose my hope, and all is +dark. But still I trust that there is some progress in the +inner life. I love my Bible; the hour of prayer is precious; +the house of God, my chief joy. Nothing will draw me to +the world again, I hope; and yet my 'heart is deceitful +above all things,' as regards the things of God. +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia urges me to follow in her sinful, foolish ways; I +will not—I have refused her invitations repeatedly, and +she tries the power of ridicule. She does not know me, or +she would not try the weakness of such a weapon. +</p> + +<p> +"I am too proud yet to yield to such a mode of opposition. +Just let me believe myself a Christian, and Lavinia's +ridicule will only excite my sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +"The gay world has lost its charms for me, and I care not +what Lavinia and her friends may say. She has told me +a great deal about Helen Thornly, and has convinced me, +that she is, indeed, the chosen companion of Roland's future +life—may they be happy! She says that Roland always +speaks of me with the affection of a brother, very calmly, +but never seems willing to talk about Helen. +</p> + +<p> +"How much of my present state of feeling may arise from +this loss of my early friend. If so, how little is this +weariness of the world to be trusted! in other circumstances, +the power of the world may all return. +</p> + +<p> +"I went to hear Mr. Endicott, Aunt Clara's pastor. What +an earnest, faithful sermon! What a picture of our sinful +nature he drew! it is all too true. And where is our help? +'Look unto me,' says the Blessed Saviour; do I look unto +him? if I did, would not peace visit my bosom? +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! for a living faith! Sometimes I feel as if I really +had exercised such trust, and then the merest trifle draws +my heart away, and my peace vanishes. +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia has such power to annoy me—she takes +malicious pleasure in bringing all the gossip that she can +about Roland—why should I be so disturbed? He is only +my friend; I am mortified that I should allow myself to +dwell so much upon these circumstances. I had a letter +from Helen, yesterday—it was full of Roland—she says if +I could know all, I would value him as highly as she does. +</p> + +<p> +"How little does she know of me! What can be the +secret which she cannot disclose? She says that it places +him among the noblest and the best of men. She writes +as if she were on terms of close intimacy with Roland; +writes of mending his clothes, attending to his room, +helping him in his work among the News-boys. It is evident +that she loves Roland Bruce; and how can she do otherwise, +living in the house with him on such familiar terms? +May they be happy together! But it does seem strange +that he can forget his old friend so soon. +</p> + +<p> +"A letter from papa; he is not well—he says that the +parlor is so melancholy, the harp so silent; he wishes me +to return; I promised him that I would; and nothing can +keep me away. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Clara is sorry to have me go so soon, but she +thinks it is my duty, and bids me depart. I am going, +to-morrow—she prayed so earnestly alone with me, that I +might be kept from the temptations of the world, and +brought really to the feet of Jesus. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"I am at home again—papa looks so thin and pale; his +spirits are very low—Effie's eyes are no better; I am +troubled about the dear girl, more than she is about +herself; she seems to live in the spirit of a beautiful hymn. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'Sweet to lie passive in his hands,<br> + And know no will but his.'<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"I spent my first evening at the harp, playing for dear +papa; he seemed so happy to have me at home again—how +fondly he hung over me all the evening! +</p> + +<p> +"What should I be without him? I cannot bear to think +of such a time. +</p> + +<p> +"He called me to his side before he retired, and opening a +casket, gave me such a beautiful set of emeralds; he is +never tired of lavishing gifts upon his darling child. +</p> + +<p> +"To-day Effie was sitting near the window trying to knit +a little; she seemed sorely perplexed, frequently dropping +her stitches, and scarcely able to take them up again—Aunt +Matilda observed her. +</p> + +<p> +"'What are you worrying yourself for, Effie, with that +knitting?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I am so tired of doing nothing,' replied the dear girl, +while large tears rolled over her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor dear Effie! I fear that she is really losing her +sight—so patient! so resigned! so ready for the will of her +Heavenly Father, whatever that may be. +</p> + +<p> +"Roland had heard of her sickness, and has been to see +her—'He was so kind,' Effie says; 'so gentle to his little +sister.' She says that he asked a great deal about me. I +wonder if he has the little shoe yet—how foolish all this +is! I ought not to write such folly. +</p> + +<p> +"I have a great deal of time unoccupied—ought I not to +do something for this neighborhood? +</p> + +<p> +"But how shall I begin? In my walk, yesterday, I +rambled among the factory children; they seem very poor +and ignorant; can I not do something for them? +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Clara gave me some little books and tracts for just +such people; I think I will take some among them. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"I went this morning along the factory lane, with my +little basket in my hand; the children found that I had +pretty books with pictures. Soon they were running after +me. +</p> + +<p> +"'Lady, please give me a little book,' cried one little +girl. 'Give me one, lady,' 'and me,' 'and me,' sounded +out a score of young voices, all eager for a book, or a tract. +</p> + +<p> +"The books were soon all gone, and I had the pleasure +of seeing several sit down by the road-side, eagerly +examining the pictures, while others ran in to show their +mothers what they had got. I think very few can read, +for they only looked at the pictures. +</p> + +<p> +"One little curly-headed girl, with bare feet and ragged +clothes, came pulling me by the dress. +</p> + +<p> +"'Lady, please come and see my mammy; she is very sick.' +</p> + +<p> +"I followed the child, and found her poor mother +extended upon a bed of sickness, with every appearance of +want and misery. I questioned her; she had been sick for +two months; often in need of food; her two children worked +at the factory, and their scanty wages was all that she had. +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh, ma'am! the rich don't know the value of the +broken pieces which they throw away; but we know, +ma'am.' +</p> + +<p> +"I left her some money, and promised to remember poor +Mrs. Donnelly—she had set me to earnest thinking. Her +grateful look repaid me for that visit. +</p> + +<p> +"In the next cottage was an old bed-ridden grandmother; +in another a cripple; and enough all around to convince +me that Madeline Hamilton must not spend an idle +life around Woodcliff. Just to think that I have lived so +many years in elegance and ease, and all this misery at my +very doors. I thought of the parable of the steward, and +his Lord's return to reckon. It is true that a great deal +was sent out from Woodcliff among the neighboring poor, +but it could not be said of us generally, 'I was sick and ye +visited me.' I must do something—but how shall it be? I +will ask Effie; she knows a great deal about these people. +Roland could tell me; his earnest, warm heart, and strong +good sense, would see the way at once. It will be so +pleasant to know that I am working in the same field with +Roland—he, for the misery of New York, and I, for that +around Woodcliff. These poor children have no time for +school, and yet they are so ignorant; can I teach them in +any way? They might stop work on Saturday; I would +pay their mother their wages, and they could come to me +in the afternoon; they would thus lose no money, and gain +much knowledge. I will try, and Effie can help me to +gather the children. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"I went yesterday—six little ones promised to come on +Saturday. Aunt Matilda is shocked with the idea of a Miss +Hamilton becoming the Lady Bountiful of the neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +"'What will Mrs. Grundy say?' is ever uppermost with +poor aunty. +</p> + +<p> +"I have a room all my own, where I can do just what I +please; my pleasant sitting-room, where I can easily +manage twelve little girls. I will have some nice desks and +benches made, and James can bring them in every Saturday. +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday my little class came—they were all clean, +but several barefoot and ragged. +</p> + +<p> +"They seemed quite bewildered by the pretty things +around them. I played a simple hymn, and tried to teach +them to say it; but they were struck dumb with amazement. +I suppose that they had never seen a piano before. +</p> + +<p> +"I amused them then by telling them a story. Effie took +them out in the garden, and gave each a bunch of flowers. +They looked so pleased, poor little things! What a pity +that I had not known before how cheap a thing it is to +make others happy, and that my garden could brighten so +many little faces; but I don't think that they were so happy +as I—my heart felt so warm, and tears of gratitude would +rise, when I remembered all God's goodness to me. There +was a warm glow of sunshine around Woodcliff on Saturday +afternoon, and it shall come again. +</p> + +<p> +"Effie thinks we had a good beginning; the little ones +promised to come next Saturday. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda laughs at my new folly, as she terms it, +saying, 'that I will soon grow tired of it.' +</p> + +<p> +"Papa says, 'I am glad that Madeline has thought of the +children; it will employ much of her time. I sometimes +think that we spend a very useless life here at Woodcliff.' +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda replies, 'I am sure, Lewis, that you +cannot expect me to enter into any such plans. I am much +too delicate with my nervous temperament; it would drive +me crazy to teach little children; and I do think that +Madeline Hamilton might find employment more worthy of a +young lady.' +</p> + +<p> +"I have written to Helen to send me some shoes for +children, and some books, giving her a short account of +what we are doing. +</p> + +<p> +"Saturday came again—my six little girls were punctual; +but it was a rainy day, and they brought some mud. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda was very angry, and said harsh things. +I replied haughtily, and with one of my outbursts of +temper. +</p> + +<p> +"'Well, Madeline, if this is your piety, I want nothing +to do with it.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I don't pretend to piety, aunt; I only want to do some +good in the world; and I think that you might help, instead +of hinder me.' +</p> + +<p> +"I was ashamed of myself, and deeply depressed for all +that day—will I ever learn to bridle my tongue? +</p> + +<p> +"The little ones were glad to get their new shoes—I gave +them their first lessons; they were very dull, for they have +never been taught anything; and it was hard to keep their +eyes from wandering about the room, and out into the +garden, for the glass doors of my sitting room open directly +on the garden, filled with beautiful flowers. A hymn which +they tried to sing, and a bunch of flowers for each, closed +the exercises." +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +The school went on prosperously for several weeks; the +numbers increased to twelve; and Madeline was pleased to +see some improvement. Effie taught each one orally verses +from the Bible, and simple hymns, for she could not use +her eyes at all. +</p> + +<p> +Weekly the young girls visited the factory lane, and +soon the poor people learned to look for the visit with great +delight. +</p> + +<p> +The sick mother was tenderly cared for; the old +grandmother provided with what she needed; the cripple +comforted by kind words, and gentle ministrations; and +Madeline felt the joy of knowing that she was doing something +towards lightening human misery. But Effie's eyes were +growing worse; it was deemed advisable to consult a New +York oculist; and Madeline was obliged to accompany the +young girl. +</p> + +<p> +The Saturday school was for awhile suspended, much +to the disappointment of the little ones, for they were very +sorry to lose their kind teachers. +</p> + +<p> +Being alone, it was thought proper that they should +take up their abode in a private boarding-house, for +Madeline could not burden her friend Mary Trevor with the +charge of Effie. +</p> + +<p> +But little encouragement was given by the great oculist; +and Madeline was now convinced that her friend was +doomed to a life of darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was not in New York when they first arrived, +having gone to a neighboring town on important business. +Madeline was devoted in her attendance upon Effie; reading +to her, and in every way that affection could invent, +trying to turn her thoughts from herself. Effie was, +however, in habits of daily self-communion, schooling her young +heart to what she felt was coming. "God help me!" was +her constant cry; and when was that feeble prayer ever +disregarded by the dear Father in Heaven? +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XIX +<br><br> +"AULD LANG SYNE." +</h3> + +<p> +Madeline's presence in New York is soon known among +her friends; numberless cards are left at her house, but as +her errand is one chiefly of business, she returns but few +calls; a few exceptions, however, are made; for she wishes +Effie to have some cheerful society. +</p> + +<p> +Occasionally, excursions are made around New York +for the purpose of amusing her young friend, for Madeline +spares no pains to cheer her drooping spirits. +</p> + +<p> +Roland has returned; he has been absent on exceedingly +annoying and troublesome business, and somewhat to throw +off care, takes a boat for the bay. +</p> + +<p> +It is a beautiful evening, and has invited a merry party +of ladies and gentlemen to take the same excursion. +</p> + +<p> +Roland does not relish the companionship of the +light-hearted, and withdraws himself from their neighborhood; +not far from where he stands, he observes the form of a +lady leaning over the side of the boat; sometimes gazing +dreamily upon the water, then upon the heavens above; it +looks like a familiar form. +</p> + +<p> +He recognizes the face of Madeline, but avoids +recognition, because he wishes to watch her movements. She +seems melancholy and abstracted, and hums sadly a +familiar air, one that he had taught her; the dear old song +of "Auld Lang Syne." +</p> + +<p> +"Does she remember those happy times?" thought the +young man, "and surrounded as she is by so much to make +her forget those early days; does she still cherish the +memory of her boyish friend?" +</p> + +<p> +He observed her wipe a tear silently away, and as she +turned to renew her walk, Roland moved towards her, and +she recognized the object of her thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Bruce!" "Miss Madeline!" were the hasty +salutations, as each extended a hand of welcome. +</p> + +<p> +"How came you here, Miss Madeline?" was Roland's +first question. +</p> + +<p> +"I am here with Effie, for advice with regard to her eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"Is she with you to-night?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is not, for she has but little heart for amusement; +she insisted on my coming, and I have left her in good +company for the evening." +</p> + +<p> +"You were musing, Miss Madeline," said Roland, in a +lower voice, "and singing that old Scotch song; did it +recall former childish days?" +</p> + +<p> +For a minute, Madeline did not reply; at last she said, +"I shall never forget those days; how often do I need just +such a friend as I had then." +</p> + +<p> +"There is a friend, Madeline, 'that sticketh closer than +a brother;' have you found him yet?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am trying, Roland, but there is much to hinder; my +faith is very weak; my heart very deceitful." +</p> + +<p> +"Your Saviour knows that, Madeline; he is not only +the 'author, but the finisher of our faith;' if you have any, +even as much as the grain of mustard seed, it is of his +planting; he only can make it grow; do you look to him +daily?" and Roland bent more closely to Madeline, as they +paced the deck together. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I have that little grain; but my great infirmities +of character do so harass me; my quick impetuous temper +make me feel so unworthy. I have no one to strengthen +me now as when I went to Maple Lane School." +</p> + +<p> +"Do the temptations of the world draw your heart away +from better things, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think not; I care for none of them; I want to be a +Christian, wholly; to live a better, higher, holier life." +</p> + +<p> +"These are the teachings of the Holy Spirit, Madeline; +God will perfect his own work; only do not resist these +influences, they are sent from Heaven." +</p> + +<p> +"Lately I wanted your advice so much; I want to do +some good at Woodcliff; but I did not know how to begin." +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard, Madeline, about your little school; go on, +my young friend, God will guide and bless you." +</p> + +<p> +"How did you hear, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Did you not write to Helen for books and shoes? she +told me all about it." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline shrank away at the mention of Helen's name, +for she feared that she had been too communicative about +herself, but it seemed so like the old times, that she could +not resist the opportunity of opening her heart on this one +subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Does Helen take any interest in such things?" inquired +Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, she does now," was the answer; "she is quite a +help to me in my 'Home.' I wish that you could do +something for us, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"How can I work for you away off at Woodcliff?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you have a very fertile imagination, and used to +be famous at story-telling—can't you manufacture +something for the 'News-boys?'" +</p> + +<p> +"I write stories, Roland! why, I never thought of such +a thing—but it would be a pleasant thing if I could so +write for them, and work for you." +</p> + +<p> +"I want you to work for God, Madeline; you have bright +talents, my little friend;" and Roland seemed to have gone +back to the days on the sea-shore, and to forget that he was +talking to a young lady, the heiress of Woodcliff, instead +of little Maddy of Maple Lane School. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline smiled, for it made her very happy to feel that +she could, in any way, be a coworker with Roland, and she +really felt as if she could make the effort; it was worth +trying. +</p> + +<p> +"Must it be very religious, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"It must be something to wake up the moral sense of +these poor boys, and to point them to a holy life." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! that is too much for me, Roland; I can, perhaps, +write a little story which may please them, and keep them +from bad reading." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you promise me to try, Madeline? send it on to +me, and I will correct it, and get it ready for the press." +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Madeline burst out into one of her old fits of +laughing; her own ringing, silvery laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"I could not help it, Roland; it seems so strange to +think of Madeline Hamilton turning authoress." +</p> + +<p> +"It does not seem strange to me; I always believed that +you were born for something very good, Madeline; now I +want you to tell me all about your little school, and the +poor people around Woodcliff." +</p> + +<p> +And Madeline entered into an animated description of +all that had been attempted; so artless, so naive was her +account, so modest, and yet so frank, that Roland felt as if +he was seated once more by the bright child of the +sea-shore; but when he remembered that years had passed +since then, and that the broad gulf of wealth and rank +forbade the free, charming intercourse of those young days; +he checked expressions that would have arisen to his lips, +and hushed the wild beating of his heart, awakening to the +sense of danger, that attended such an interview as this. +</p> + +<p> +"You promise to write the story, Madeline, remember." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I promise anything,"——and she checked the +remaining words trembling on her lips,—"to you." +</p> + +<p> +They forgot the passing of time in this sweet communion, +until Charles Davenport came up to Madeline, and laying +his hand upon her arm, said, haughtily, +</p> + +<p> +"Are you aware, Madeline, how long you have been +absent from your party?" +</p> + +<p> +"Are you aware that you are interrupting my +conversation with an old friend?" +</p> + +<p> +"An old friend, indeed! May I ask the name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Bruce, Charles Davenport." +</p> + +<p> +"How long since you resigned your post at college, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"What post, Mr. Davenport?" +</p> + +<p> +"That which you held when I was a member of that +college." +</p> + +<p> +Roland did not answer—indignation was too strong; but +Madeline did. +</p> + +<p> +"I understand your insinuation, sir; how dare you insult +Roland Bruce? You cannot lower him; you have tried +it too often, and failed." +</p> + +<p> +Poor Madeline! aware of the hot blood that was mounting +to her face, she covered it with her hands, and murmured, +</p> + +<p> +"Begone, Charles Davenport; you make me forget that +I am a woman; I am so ashamed, what shall I do?" and +she burst into tears of wounded modesty. +</p> + +<p> +Charles went off whistling. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite a scene with that upstart fellow!" +</p> + +<p> +Roland stood by Madeline, scarcely knowing what to +say. He was aware that her innate sense of propriety had +been greatly outraged by the words which in her impetuosity +she had uttered; he stood silent for one minute, then +taking her hand, said, +</p> + +<p> +"I understand your generous nature, Madeline; I thank +you more than words can express." +</p> + +<p> +"I am humbled, mortified at my impetuosity; do not +think me destitute of modesty, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"You, Madeline! you know not what you are saying—be +satisfied when I say that if the expression of the deepest +respect that ever filled the heart of man can relieve your +wounded pride, it is all your own." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Roland; I could not bear to lose your +respect; let me always deserve that." +</p> + +<p> +Taking her hand, and placing it within his arm, he led +her to her party, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"Good night, Miss Madeline; I shall see you and Effie +to-morrow;" for Roland felt that this heart-communion was +becoming each moment more dangerous. +</p> + +<p> +"Who was that young man?" inquired Mary Trevor; +"he is so noble-looking, and what a bow! quite the air of a +prince!" +</p> + +<p> +"Poor and proud!" retorted Charles Davenport. +</p> + +<p> +"He is an early friend of mine, Mary. His name is Bruce." +</p> + +<p> +"O yes! he is in Mr. Thornly's office; I have met him +there several times; he is a young man of fine talents, and +quite an admirer of Helen Thornly; some say more." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline did not reply, but there was something in her +heart that night, that made her feel very easy with regard +to these rumors; at all events, Roland has lost none of his +interest in his youthful friend, and Madeline dreamed about +Woodcliff, and Maple Lane School, about the sea-shore, +Uncle Peter, and a little shoe. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, Roland called to see his sister, and was +deeply pained at the evidences manifest of the affliction +hanging over his darling Effie. +</p> + +<p> +Folding her in his arms, he pressed upon her sweet face +the warm kisses of brotherly love. +</p> + +<p> +"Would, darling, that I could shelter you from the woes +of life; but Effie, this is not our home; we are seeking a +better one; and if for a little while our Father sees fit to +close my sister's eyes, I will be eyes and everything else +for her." +</p> + +<p> +"I know it, Roland; I am trying to school my heart; I +know what is coming; each day the light becomes more +dim; but the presence of my Saviour is always with me; +I can still, with the eyes of my soul, 'Look aloft.' I have +so many blessings, Roland; a pleasant home, good kind +friends, a dear, dear brother, such a friend in Madeline, and +the hope of Heaven always so bright." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smoothed the soft brown hair, kissed the pale +forehead, and lifting up his voice, prayed so fervently for +the dear stricken lamb, that Effie was comforted. +</p> + +<p> +A few more days, and the young girls returned to Woodcliff, +with the sad certainty that nothing more could be done +for Effie. +</p> + +<p> +Roland saw them safely in the cars, and promised to +write frequently to his sister. +</p> + +<p> +"Remember your promise," was his last charge to Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as possible, she made preparations for her new +effort; carefully concealing from her father and aunt the +nature of her employment. +</p> + +<p> +She was some time deciding whether her hero should be +a good or a bad boy; she tried both, but was dissatisfied. +At last, she selected one from the very lowest walks of life, +and the deepest degradation, raised by the power of Christian +love to a post of useful, earnest piety. +</p> + +<p> +As her story progressed, she read each chapter to Effie, +who was delighted at the genius manifested by her model +friend. +</p> + +<p> +At length it was completed, and sent to Roland; nothing +was heard of it for some time. So humble was her sense +of its demerits, that Madeline looked daily for the return +of her manuscript. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, a letter came to Effie, announcing that all +arrangements were made, the book disposed of, and would be +out in about two months; but Roland asked what was to be +done with the money for the manuscript. +</p> + +<p> +"I never thought of that," said the young girl; "but tell +Roland, Effie, to keep the money for the 'Home.'" +</p> + +<p> +When at last the package came, and Madeline really +looked upon one of her own productions in print, she could +not but smile at her temerity; and when in addition to the +book, were also some flattering notices from the press, she +was actually surprised. +</p> + +<p> +Papa was in the library—Madeline knocked at the door +with a trembling hand; and when her father bade her +enter, she stood irresolute with the book in her hand, and a +shy smile upon her face. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, daughter? you seem agitated." +</p> + +<p> +"I have something to show you, papa." +</p> + +<p> +"Well! what is it? I am ready." +</p> + +<p> +"This little book, papa." +</p> + +<p> +"Poh! poh! is that all? only a boy's book, Maddy." +</p> + +<p> +"But I know that you'd like to read this one, papa." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, to please my daughter, I'll read it some time; lay +it on the table." +</p> + +<p> +"But, papa, I want you to read it now; look at the +title-page." +</p> + +<p> +"By Madeline." "Why, what does this mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"It means, dear papa, that this is Mad-cap's book." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you really write this, my child?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I did, papa; I hope it may do some good among +the poor boys of New York." +</p> + +<p> +"What next, Maddy?" asked her father, with an amused +expression of countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"I must be busy, and this is such pleasant work; you do +not object, do you, papa?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not exactly; but I should not like to have your +name handed around as an authoress; I have rather a +horror of literary ladies in general; they are so often odd, +and I cannot abide an eccentric woman." +</p> + +<p> +"But, dear me, papa, these little unpretending stories are +really nothing; they never can make me famous; and really +I do not wish for anything but that they may do some +good." +</p> + +<p> +Papa read the little book with a feeling of secret pride, +quite surprised to see so much talent in his daughter Maddy. +At the tea-table, he alluded to the subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what would you think, Matilda, if I should +introduce Madeline to her aunt, as a young authoress?" +</p> + +<p> +"Think, Lewis Hamilton! why I should say that you +are both crazy. First, a Lady Bountiful, bringing in all +the ragged children of the neighborhood, and now a writer +of childish books. I am really concerned; if she becomes +a 'blue stocking,' I have no hope left; she will grow to be +a careless, slatternly woman, just like that Miss Hodges, +that used to go about the country with soiled face and +hands, carrying her great bag of manuscript under her +skirts, fastened around her waist, like saddle-bags. You +have no idea, Lewis Hamilton, how these pursuits ruin a +woman—your indulgence carries you much too far." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton laughed heartily at such a picture. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't alarm yourself, Matilda; I don't think that +Madeline will ever reach notoriety like that." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, aunty, I can't see how you could ever dream of +such a thing; you know bow I despise a sloven; if I +thought that I could ever become such a disgusting person, +I would burn my papers at once, and consign my poor little +attempts to the oblivion which they may reach in another +way; but, dear aunt, really in earnest, I promise you to +wash my face and hands, and comb my hair at least once a +day, and not to disgrace my name." +</p> + +<p> +Throwing her arms around Aunt Matilda's neck, she +kissed her affectionately, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Now confess, aunty, did not you think first, 'And what +will Mrs. Grundy say?' Is not that the truth?" And Maddy +was victor as usual of the whole ground; father, aunt, and +all who had read her little book. +</p> + +<p> +"Write to your heart's content, Maddy, only avoid those +follies which are so often seen." +</p> + +<p> +The little school prospered. Effie aided as far as her +strength allowed. Total blindness had spread its dark +mantle over the dear girl. +</p> + +<p> +It was truly a mournful sight to behold the desolate +orphan, groping her way about the house, feeling by the +banisters, and along the walls; or sitting with folded hands, +and meek submissive face, generally in Madeline's sitting +room. +</p> + +<p> +Her health was evidently on the decline; a feebler step, +failing appetite, longings for the better land marked her +approach to her Father's house. +</p> + +<p> +She had learned to knit very expertly, even without eyesight, +and it was with feelings of humble contentment that +she could thus employ her fingers, for many a nice pair of +warm stockings were thus provided for their little pupils. +Seated in Madeline's favorite room, she could smell the +fragrance of the flowers, hear the warbling of birds, and +the sweet voice of her dear friend at her daily practice. +Her chapter in the Bible was read to her every morning, +by Madeline, who would then arrange her chair, get Effie's +knitting, and busy herself about her own employments. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you get me a bunch of heather, Maddy? I want +it near me; it was my mother's flower, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"Here it is, Effie;" and placing it in her hands, Madeline +kissed the sweet pale face, while the blind girl pressed +it to her lips with sweet memories of the departed. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it a bright morning, Madeline?" asked the orphan. +</p> + +<p> +"Bright as a May morning can be, Effie; the dew is +yet on the sweet flowers, and all is charming and refreshing." +</p> + +<p> +"I can well afford to be contented with my present +blindness, Madeline; for I shall soon see the brighter +scenes, and pluck the flowers of Paradise; will you sing +for me that sweet hymn, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'Thy will be done?'"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and as Madeline poured out the plaintive melody of that +touching air, Effie leaned back in her chair, with a sweet +placid look of perfect happiness. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, it is a precious experience 'to know no will +but his,' willing to live, joyful to die; I would live for +Roland, but die to be with Jesus and my mother; by-the-bye, +Madeline, to-morrow is the day when we may expect +my brother; did he not say on Thursday?" +</p> + +<p> +"He did in his last letter to you, and he is a faithful +promiser." +</p> + +<p> +Seated in her accustomed place, Effie listens eagerly for +every step, for her remaining senses are made more acute +by the loss of one; the step on the gravelled walk, then on +the piazza, the closing of the front door, the firm tread +along the hall, and the voice so beloved, sends a glow of +joy over the face of the blind girl, and rising, she gropes +her way hastily to the entry, where she is soon folded to the +bosom of her "dear, dear Roland." +</p> + +<p> +He gazes sadly for one moment upon the sightless eyes, +the pale drooping form, and the hectic bloom on the thin +face, and feels that Effie is following their mother to the +land of the blessed. +</p> + +<p> +But Roland has a cheerful spirit, and nothing but strong +comforting words pass his lips when alone with his little +sister. He tells her of his plans, of his success in +business, and his News-boys' Home, of incidents connected +with the history of several, and amusing accounts of their +first entrance upon civilized life. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you believe it, Effie, that one poor little fellow +did not know the use of a staircase, and we found him +groping up on his hands and feet as he had been accustomed +to do by the ladder of his gloomy garret. There +was a looking-glass in the matron's room, and the same +little fellow was pushing through, thinking it was another +room." +</p> + +<p> +Effie laughed at these stories, and thought her brother +the most entertaining company that she had ever met. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, brother, tell me all about Madeline's book; did +the boys like it?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was the very book for them; they are always asking +for 'The Boy in Earnest;' each one is to have a copy on +Christmas morning." +</p> + +<p> +Turning to Madeline, he continued, +</p> + +<p> +"You must go on with your stories; the publisher was +delighted, and wants more from the same source. I have +some matter which I can give you, and you can weave it +into the form of a tale for us—you see that my advice was +good, Madeline, although you were so afraid to try." +</p> + +<p> +"It is always right, Roland; you never advised me for +anything but my good, but you ought to hear Aunt Matilda +make fun of these things; she says that I shall forget to +wash my face and hands after awhile; do you think that +there is really any danger of such a calamity?" and +Madeline smiled archly on her friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Not if I may judge by present appearances;" was the +reply, as Roland gazed with an admiring look upon the +perfect lady-like neatness of hair, dress, and manner that +always distinguished Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"I never could tell what you wear, but I think that your +aunt need not wish anything different." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline blushed at the compliment so unusual from the +lips of Roland, and made a low mischievous courtesy, with +the witchery of former times. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, kind sir, you had better take care, lest you +make me vain, instead of a 'blue stocking;' and one is as +bad as the other." +</p> + +<p> +"Pure motives, Madeline, will make all right; everything +in its proper place, but God over all." +</p> + +<p> +A bright blush mantled the young face, and a light +beamed from the deep blue eyes, illumining the whole +countenance, which Madeline did not care to be wholly +revealed, for she dropped the lids hastily, lest the eyes should +speak too much. +</p> + +<p> +The Saturday school assembled before Roland returned +to New York. +</p> + +<p> +On a visit to Effie, he had the pleasure of being present +at one of these gatherings. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was much embarrassed, and could scarcely proceed +with her work in his presence. +</p> + +<p> +Understanding her feelings, he said, kindly, +</p> + +<p> +"Is there anything that I can do, Miss Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you will make the opening prayer, I should be +pleased. I use our forms of prayer, but I would rather hear +yours to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Roland poured forth a simple, heart-felt, earnest prayer, +remembering all the members of that household, as well as +the children kneeling around them. Madeline had never +heard him pray, and when he named her as the young +teacher of the little flock, she felt that more earnestness +marked those petitions, and deeply was she moved by the +glowing language of that solemn supplication. +</p> + +<p> +He took Effie's class, and although apparently engrossed +by the employment of the hour, watched with deep emotion +the humble, affectionate manner with which Madeline +performed her duty towards her young pupils. +</p> + +<p> +He did not wonder at their interest, when he glanced at +the earnest glow of her lovely countenance, nor at the +reverence of the young faces, when he listened to the simple +instruction which she endeavored to impart. +</p> + +<p> +At the close, Madeline took her seat at the piano, and +played one of her childish hymns, in which they all joined; +then the bunch of flowers, as usual, was the kind dismissal. +</p> + +<p> +"Please, ma'am, granny is very bad with the rheumatiz," +said little Betsy Smith; "she wants you to come and see +her." +</p> + +<p> +"I will come to-morrow, Betsy." +</p> + +<p> +"And please, ma'am," said another, "daddy broke his +leg last week; won't you stop at our house?" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline blushed as she saw the expression with which +Roland regarded her, as she answered the humble petitioners. +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you, Miss Madeline, in your good work," said +the young man, as he warmly pressed her hand; "but this +is a novel kind of school in a young lady's sitting-room, in +the midst of flowers and music, and such teachers." +</p> + +<p> +"Our accommodations are not suitable, we know; but +we hope for something better some of these days." +</p> + +<p> +"The children will be sorry to move away from this," +was the quick reply. +</p> + +<p> +"But we can teach so few in this room, and we might +as well have more." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was more pleased than he could express with all +that he had seen, and when he took his departure, his last +words were, +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you, Miss Madeline, and do not forget +another book." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XX. +<br><br> +OUT IN THE LIGHT. +</h3> + +<p> +It is a bright and beautiful day—Madeline looks tenderly +upon the drooping invalid reclining upon the couch in her +pleasant sitting-room. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you walk this morning, Effie? the air is so pure +and fresh, it will revive you." +</p> + +<p> +She raised her languid head for one moment, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot to-day, dear, I am too weak; come read to me +some of the precious Saviour's words; they will comfort +me." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline selected some passages from the fourteenth +chapter of John, those which have cheered so many weary +pilgrims on their journey homeward. +</p> + +<p> +"In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were +not so, I would have told you; I go to prepare a place for you." +</p> + +<p> +"'Many mansions,' dear Madeline, and one is mine, purchased +by a Saviour's blood, ensured to me by his unfailing +truth." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's eyes filled, and her voice trembled as she +continued. +</p> + +<p> +"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come +again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there +ye may be also." +</p> + +<p> +"'I will come again,' Maddy; listen to those words; +Jesus will come again, and where he is, I shall be also; +with Jesus, dearest; with my mother in Paradise; out in +the light; no more blindness, no more darkness, but perfect +bliss; this is my hope." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline took up the next verse. +</p> + +<p> +"And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, blessed be God! I know the way; I have known +it so long; my mother led my infant steps in that holy +way, and I cannot remember when I did not love my +Saviour. O, what cause have I to praise my God! While +so many are living in sin, dancing merrily in the way to +death, his grace has saved me, Maddy; if I had been like +others, rich and healthy, I might have been just as +thoughtless, just as vain." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline continued until she came to the verse, "Jesus +saith unto him, I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no +man cometh unto the Father but by me." +</p> + +<p> +"He does not leave us, dear, to grope in darkness, when +he says, 'Come unto me;' he leads the way himself; he is +the truth; he guides us into all truth; he is the life, Maddy, +the life of the immortal soul; through him we have pardon, +access to God, and the hope of eternal life sure and stedfast; +poor, weak, trembling thing that I am, I can cast my +little anchor within the vail, and feel it on a rock. I know +that this faith must be divine, for I am such a fearful, timid +being, afraid of so many things around me, and yet not +afraid to meet a pure and holy God in judgment; this faith +must be all his work, Maddy." +</p> + +<p> +With a heart full of sympathy, Madeline continued until +she reached the thirteenth verse. +</p> + +<p> +"And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I +do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall +ask anything in my name, I will do it." +</p> + +<p> +"'If ye shall ask anything in my name;' think of the +promise, Madeline, 'I will do it.' I have believed my Saviour, +and I have asked eternal life for you, and my Saviour +will, yes dear, he is hearing my prayer, and Roland's +too—how often have we prayed together for you." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's head drooped for one moment, and she could +scarcely proceed; but she answered, +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really believe, Effie, that I shall ever be a +Christian? that I, proud, self-willed Madeline, shall ever be like +the meek and lowly Saviour?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dear, if you, like Mary, will sit daily at his feet, +he will teach you; he will make you like himself; and then, +Maddy, after all the cares and sorrows of this mortal life +are ended, we shall be forever with him." +</p> + +<p> +"Does it ever grieve you to think of leaving this world, +Effie?" asked her friend. +</p> + +<p> +"When I think of Roland all alone," and her lips quivered, +"then my heart is sad, for he has none but me; but +you'll be kind to him, Madeline; you will not forget Effie's +brother." +</p> + +<p> +"There is Helen Thornly, Effie; while he has her, he +will not be desolate." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean, Madeline? Helen is only a kind +friend to Roland, nothing more; she helps him in his +missionary work, and that brings them much together; there +is nobody in the wide world that Roland values as he does +you, Maddy; next to me, you are his other sister." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he ever tell you so, Effie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why no, not exactly; but I know Roland; he can never +forget the kindness of his little sea-shore friend, or the sweet +intercourse of childish days; he has too much gratitude for +that. But Maddy, there is one thing I should like—when +I am gone, you can write no more letters for poor blind +Effie; how he will miss them! If you would only continue +to write to him kind, friendly letters, he would not miss me +then quite so much." +</p> + +<p> +Dear innocent little Effie! +</p> + +<p> +Madeline blushed even in the presence of the blind girl, +at such a proposition. +</p> + +<p> +"That cannot be, Effie; it would be highly improper for +a young lady to be writing letters to a gentleman." +</p> + +<p> +"Pardon me, Madeline, I forgot the difference; I see it +cannot be expected; it would be presumptuous in Roland; +but still it would be so pleasant; and I don't see why you +cannot; just letters of advice, Maddy." +</p> + +<p> +"I advise Roland! why Effie, that would be singular +indeed, when nearly all my life he has been my counsellor." +</p> + +<p> +"This is a strange world, Maddy. I know that you +would like to write; and just because people are so foolish, +you have to be led by their notions; Roland is only like a +brother, and I can't see any harm in it at all." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear papa would not approve of such a correspondence, +Effie; and besides, Roland has never asked it himself." +</p> + +<p> +"Some of these days, Madeline, you will be thinking of +marriage, or some one will think of it for you; I hope that +you will ask Roland's counsel, then; I know that he would +not like you to marry any one who is not a Christian." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Effie, you need not trouble yourself about the +matter; I am very happy at Woodcliff; I don't know any +one that could tempt me away from my father; in fact, I +don't think about it at all. Harry Castleton has troubled +me sometimes with his offers, but really, I scarcely give it +a thought, and least of all with him." +</p> + +<p> +But Madeline smiled at the idea of asking Roland's +advice upon such a subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Maddy, sing me one of our sweet hymns." +</p> + +<p> +"What shall it be, dear?" +</p> + +<p> +"'How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord;' that is +one of my favorites." +</p> + +<p> +And Madeline sang the beautiful words with touching pathos. +</p> + +<p> +Effie was not able to sit up all that day, but continued +in the same happy, tranquil state of mind. +</p> + +<p> +Time wore away—gradually Effie's strength declined. +</p> + +<p> +One day, being a little stronger, she called Madeline to +her side, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Bring me the box, dear, which you will find in my +upper drawer," and accordingly Madeline obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +"I have none but you, Miss Matilda, and Roland, Maddy, +and I want to distribute my few trifling keepsakes, before +I am too weak. My Bible, my breastpin, with my mother's +hair, and my little desk, are for Roland; my mourning ring, +the gift of Miss Matilda, and the likeness, which you +remember we had taken in New York, are both for you; my +hymn-book, my knitting-bag and caba, are for Miss +Matilda. I bought a little book for each of the servants, when +I was in New York; write my name in each. You may +do what you please with my clothes; I think, however, it +would be well to distribute them among our little +scholars—now I have nothing more to do with earth, but just to +wait my Father's will; when he is ready, he will send for +me." +</p> + +<p> +There was a picture of the Believer's Vision on the wall +opposite to where Effie reposed, and as she lay there with +folded hands, and sweet expression of perfect peace, Madeline +had learned to associate the two, and ever after, would +that touching picture speak of Effie. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, I promised Roland that I would send for +him when the change was near; I think that it will not be +many days before I shall be out in the blessed light of +Heaven. I asked the Doctor, yesterday, and he told me, +Maddy, that it might be a very short time, or a few days, +at farthest; will you send for Roland? This is Thursday, +and he could be spared better on Saturday and Sunday." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline sent a few hasty lines, and on Saturday afternoon +he arrived, pale and sad, for he understood the message. +</p> + +<p> +"You will stay with me, Roland, until all is over?" was +the request of the dying girl. +</p> + +<p> +"I have made all my arrangements, and will not leave +you, darling." +</p> + +<p> +"I want to see Mr. Hamilton alone, Roland; I have +something to say to him; will you tell him, dear?" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's father had learned to love the gentle blind +girl, and when he entered, and saw the gray shadows of +death upon her countenance, he could scarcely control his +feelings. +</p> + +<p> +"I am going to leave you, Mr. Hamilton, and I want to +thank you for all your kindness to poor blind Effie; I shall +not be blind much longer, for I am going out of the darkness +into the blessed light of Heaven; but I want to tell +you, that weak and timid as I am, I am not afraid to die; +my trust is in Jesus, and he never leaves me, nor forsakes +me. I love you, Mr. Hamilton, because you are Madeline's +father, and I want you to be just as happy as I am—warnings +have come to you, my good, kind friend, for these many +months, and I want you to promise me, dying Effie, that +you will seek the Saviour, ere it is forever too late." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton bowed his head upon his hands, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +"I often feel, Effie, as if my days would not be very +many in this world, for I am much worse than Madeline +dreams of. I have not your blessed hope, my dear child, +but I know that yours is real, is divine, and I promise you, +Effie, to seek your Saviour; does that make you happy?" +and Mr. Hamilton stooped down to kiss the pale cheek of +the child. +</p> + +<p> +"Happy! yes, Mr. Hamilton, I should be perfectly happy, +if I could hope to meet you all up there," and she pointed +upward, while a look of seraphic blessedness dwelt upon +her face. "Now, send Miss Matilda." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Matilda had avoided being alone with Effie, for she +was afraid of death. +</p> + +<p> +Thoughts of the dark grave, the judgment and eternity, +were all that she ever associated with the subject. +</p> + +<p> +She entered the room, and took her seat by the couch. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not so very ill, Effie; I have seen persons +weaker than you recover." Effie smiled, as she replied, +"I have no fears of death, Miss Matilda; my Saviour has +taken them all away; I have no desire to live, but for +Roland's sake; but I sent for you to tell you how blessed +is the Christian's state. My trust is all in my Saviour; +and he will not prove untrue to his word. You have been +very good to poor orphan Effie, and I want to see you +happy. I know you are not happy now—no one can be +who does not love God best of all; you will not be offended +at me, Miss Matilda, for I shall soon be gone; but I want +you to seek the Saviour." +</p> + +<p> +"I am a member of the church, Effie; I don't know +what you mean, exactly." +</p> + +<p> +"I mean, dear Miss Matilda, that I want you to have +real heart faith in Jesus; faith that makes you love him, +trust him, follow him as your best friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Effie, I do believe in him, but not as you do." +</p> + +<p> +"That is what I mean, Miss Matilda; I don't mean just +to be a member of the church, and no more; that is not +all; I want you to be a member of Christ himself, and that +is by faith." +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'Tis like Heaven below,<br> + My Redeemer to know,<br> + The angels can do nothing more,<br> + Than to sit at his feet<br> + And the story repeat,<br> + And the dear friend of sinners adore."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Miss Matilda sat bathed in tears, for she had a warm +affectionate heart, and could not but love the little lamb +who was pleading so sweetly the cause of her Master. +</p> + +<p> +She took the pale and withered hand, and replied, "Effie, +there is something about this, different from all that I have +ever seen; death always seemed so terrible to me." +</p> + +<p> +"It is only terrible where sin is not pardoned; 'the +sting of death is sin.' Jesus has borne it all for me, and +to me there is no sting, nor any fear of the grave, because +he has lain there, and blessed it, Miss Matilda." +</p> + +<p> +"Would that I had such a trust as this," and she kissed +the dear child, and left the room. Sweet was the +communion between Effie and her brother. Roland's strong +faith, and scriptural knowledge made him a most valuable +treasure to the feeble girl, for as the dying hour +approached, she had some experience of the conflict between +the soul and body, and some slight cloud of darkness in +her hour of weakness; but Roland sat by her, watching +each change, praying, soothing, repeating words of +Scripture, and the hour of temptation passed. +</p> + +<p> +"Out in the light, dear brother; so soon at home with +Jesus. Read from the Revelations, Roland;" and in a +deep, rich voice, he read, +</p> + +<p> +"'And there shall be no more curse; but the throne of +God and the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall +serve him: And they shall see his face; and his name shall +be in their foreheads. And there shall be no night there; +and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the +Lord God giveth them light; and they shall reign forever +and ever.'" +</p> + +<p> +"'And there shall be no night there,' Roland, 'but one +eternal, glorious day;' come, Madeline, one more kiss, one +more, Roland," and Effie clasped her dying arms around +both as she whispered, "Love the Saviour, love Roland +as I have loved him, Madeline, love each other, and we +shall meet in Heaven." +</p> + +<p> +They arose from that cold embrace, and as Effie lay back +upon her pillow, softly, gently the sweet spirit departed; +and when Madeline saw that she had gone, forgetting all +ceremony, she took Roland's arm, and led him out into the +garden, for Effie had departed in Madeline's sitting-room. +He walked mechanically to an arbor, with Madeline by his +side. One burst of manly grief rent his bosom, for dearly +had he loved his gentle sister, and he felt now that he was +indeed alone. Almost unconscious of the act, she leaned +her head upon Roland's shoulder, and whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"Not alone, Roland; I will take Effie's place." +</p> + +<p> +"You cannot, you cannot, Madeline; not Effie's," and +ere he was aware, he passed his arm around her waist, but +as instantly released her, as he continued pacing up and +down the arbor; "you cannot be my sister, Madeline; I +must be gone from here, and then I shall indeed be all +alone." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline scarcely knew what to think of his conduct; +if it was intended as a casting off her sisterly love, she was +indeed mistaken in him; but that she could not believe—what +then could he mean? +</p> + +<p> +What was Roland's surprise in the evening of Effie's +death to be called out to see a woman in the entry, and +who should present herself but Elsie Gibson! They had +not seen her for many months. +</p> + +<p> +"Weel, Roland, ye hae lost anither—what ailed the puir +bairn?" +</p> + +<p> +"Consumption at last, Elsie, and she had been blind for +months before she died." +</p> + +<p> +"She is at rest, Roland—but may I see her remains?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, Elsie," and the brother took the old woman +into the room where Effie lay. +</p> + +<p> +"Will ye gi' me a lock o' her hair, Roland? I had a lock +o' your mother's, and I want this for the same person." +</p> + +<p> +"For whom, Elsie?" was the quick reply. +</p> + +<p> +"For ane that has a right, Roland, ye'll ken some day," +and Elsie was allowed to cut a lock of fair hair, and folding +it carefully in paper, she placed it in her pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Roland remained until the day of interment; and accompanied +by the members of Mr. Hamilton's family, and the +children whom she had taught, he laid the dear remains +by the side of her mother, to await the morning of the +resurrection. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing further detained him at Woodcliff; indeed, he +seemed anxious to be gone. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Miss Madeline, for all your kindness and +devotion to my darling sister," was his last farewell. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I see you again, Mr. Bruce?" was Madeline's +inquiry, for she felt an inward conviction that Effie's death +had removed the last tie that bound him to Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +"I may, perhaps, come down to see about the grave, +Miss Madeline, but the world has claims upon me, and I +must fulfil them;" then suddenly changing from his cold, +constrained manner, to one of deep feeling, he seized +Madeline's hand, and pressing upon it one long, fond kiss, he +said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me, Madeline; it is the first, the last that I +shall ever press upon that hand. I have had my warning, +and I shall never intrude; but you must not forget me, I +could not bear it; farewell! farewell!" and ere the +astonished girl could reply, he was gone—out of the door, down +the avenue—out of sight! +</p> + +<p> +What could it all mean! sometimes so cold, then so +impassioned! How could she account for the conduct so +strange! She was not aware that Aunt Matilda had +discovered that it was owing to Roland's influence that her +niece had attempted authorship; nor did she know how +much alarmed her aunt had been at the apparent intimacy +between Roland and herself: she had witnessed also the +scene in the arbor on the day of Effie's death, and resolved +to break up the intercourse, if possible; accordingly, on the +evening after the funeral, Roland was seated alone in the +parlor, when Miss Hamilton entered. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall miss your dear sister, Mr. Bruce, for she was +a sweet, gentle girl, and we all loved her, and I suppose +that it will be a long while ere we shall see you again; for +as Effie is gone, there is no longer any thing to draw you +to Woodcliff. If circumstances are somewhat different, it +would give me great pleasure to invite you freely to our +house, but you know that we must have some regard for +the opinions of the world, and as Madeline is now a young +lady, it would be the height of imprudence to encourage +such an ill-assorted intimacy." +</p> + +<p> +Roland's face flushed crimson—all the fire of his +naturally proud temper was aroused; he bit his lips, and +remained silent for one minute, then taking his hat, he simply +said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Good-evening, Miss Hamilton, I am sorry to have intruded +so long; I understand the gulf between Miss Madeline +and myself perfectly, you have no reason to fear. I +am quite as proud as you." +</p> + +<p> +It was after this interview, that he had taken leave of +Madeline. She was distressed, but could not understand +what all this seeming inconsistency of conduct meant. +</p> + +<p> +"Brother, I have been really concerned at the intimacy +between Madeline and this young man," was the remark +of Miss Matilda to Mr. Hamilton. "I have found out the +reason why she wrote that book; she would never have +thought of such a thing, if it had not been for Roland +Bruce; he put it into her head, and forsooth! she must +puzzle her brains to publish this book; there is nothing +that he has ever hinted, that she has not done; and I +actually believe that Madeline may some day so far forget +the dignity of her family, as to stoop to such a man as +that." +</p> + +<p> +"I have some fears myself, Matilda, for I observed with +how much deference Madeline listened to all his remarks, +and what deep sympathy she manifested with his grief; +and I do not wonder, for he is a most remarkable young +man." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I have put an end to it, brother, without your +help. I just hinted to him that as Effie was gone, there +would now be nothing to call him to Woodcliff; you should +have seen the crimson blush mantling his whole face, and +the proud bearing of the youth, as he replied, 'that he +should intrude no more.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Does Madeline know any thing about it, Matilda?" +</p> + +<p> +"She does not, for I fear to rouse her spirit." +</p> + +<p> +"And I, too," was her father's reply; "I do not believe +that she would tolerate this if she knew it." +</p> + +<p> +"She shall never be any the wiser, and Roland is too +proud to tell her; he walked out of the parlor like a prince." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline had another source of disquietude—her father's +health seemed rapidly declining, and his spirits very low; +so much so, that his physician ordered him to Europe, and +rapid preparations were to be made, in order that they +might leave America in the early autumn. Mr. Hamilton +observed Madeline's great depression, for since Effie's +death, he had seldom seen her smile; the old joyousness +had vanished from her face, and the elasticity from her +step. She was very lonely without her dear young friend, +and the hours spent in her sitting-room so much alone, +were not calculated to raise her spirits. Her walks were +equally lonely; still she rambled to the sea-shore, and old +Peter's cabin. In a short time, she had placed a simple +marble slab at the head of Effie's grave, and planted some +flowers that she had loved around the sacred spot. +</p> + +<p> +One evening she bent her footsteps to the old man's cabin. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to see you, Miss Madeline, for Master Roland +was here last Monday, and left this little note if you +should call;" and he handed her a small slip of paper, on +which was written, "A thousand thanks for the sweet +memento over my sister's grave; I know whose hand placed +it there; the one whose friendship has never failed us, and +who never can be forgotten. I hear that you are going to +Europe; may God preserve and bless you with his guiding +band and sustaining grace, prays now and always, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline read the little note with tears. +</p> + +<p> +"When was he here, Uncle Peter?" was her first question. +</p> + +<p> +"On Monday last; he came to see about his sister's grave, +but found everything done before he got here. You ought +to have seen him, Miss Madeline, when he came back from +the grave; he sat down there," pointing to a broken chair, +"and covering his face with his hands, he sobbed and wept +so bitterly. When a man cries so hard, I know there must +be some great sorrow." +</p> + +<p> +"What else did he say, Uncle Peter?" +</p> + +<p> +"He asked about you, Miss Madeline,—how you were, +when you were here, how you looked, and if you ever +spoke of him. He then asked about Mr. Hamilton. I +told him how sick he was; he seemed so very sorry, but he +did not say one word about Miss Matilda. I asked him +if he was not going up to the Hall; but he said, 'No, Effie +was gone, and there was nothing to call him there +now.' Then he asked when you were going to Europe. I said, +'in about two weeks;' is that correct?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Uncle Peter, if we can get ready for the steamer. +Was that all he said?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that was all; and then he went away, and I was +so sorry, for he seemed so sad and lonely." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline returned with a bowed head to her home; it +was as she had expected. Roland could not come to the +Hall, now that Effie was gone. +</p> + +<p> +It was a comfort, however, to visit the old man, and +Madeline's calls were frequent. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, strolling quietly along, her thoughts were +dwelling sadly on the past, and with dread to the future; +she had reached the spot where she sat on the day that she +had first met Roland. For one minute she stood, and +wiped away a silent tear. Then walking on, with her eyes +bent upon the beach, she was conscious of nothing around +her, until she reached the old man's cabin. What was her +surprise upon entering to see Roland! +</p> + +<p> +He arose with a constrained manner, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Madeline, I heard that you were going to Europe, +and I felt that I must bid you farewell. I have been here +once before, but without success—when do you sail?" +</p> + +<p> +"In about a week, Mr. Bruce," was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Can I speak to you alone, Miss Hamilton?" and Roland +offered his arm, and led her to the old rock, where +they had so often sat in the careless days of childhood. +</p> + +<p> +"You are going to cross the wide ocean, Miss Madeline; +will be introduced into new scenes, and will be exposed to +the blandishments of the gay metropolis of England—do +not forget your immortality; do not forget your early +friend. I know that they will try to banish me from your +memory; but Madeline, by all the tenderness of childhood's +days, remember, if not me, remember all that I have told +you—you cannot know the loneliness which I have suffered +ever since Effie's death, and I cannot bear to think that you +can ever forget me. I ask only your friendship, your +prayers." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's voice trembled as she asked, +</p> + +<p> +"Why is it that you come no more to Woodcliff? we +should be so glad to see you." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled bitterly, as he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps so, Madeline; but I have good reasons; you +may know them some day. When you go to England, +among the rest of your visits, do not forget the benevolent +institutions; get all the information that you can; and +when you return to America, you will be better prepared +to follow out your plans for good; we shall have the +pleasure then of knowing that although separated, we are +co-workers for the same great end." +</p> + +<p> +They continued in such conversation for some time +longer; at length the shadows of evening warned them that +it was time to part. +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell, Madeline!" and Roland seized the little hand +extended so frankly, pressing it tenderly between both of +his own. +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell, Roland; be assured that I shall never forget +you, and when I say this, I mean all that I say—God bless +you, Roland, forever and ever; he will bring you back to +Woodcliff to bless its people. I have never lost that faith, +Roland." +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the lane which led to the shore, they +parted; and as Madeline walked slowly up the road that +led to the gate of her own home, turning back, she still +saw Roland gazing after her, and waving his hand, as she +vanished up the avenue. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXI. +<br><br> +SEARCHING FOR SCOTTISH FRIENDS. +</h3> + +<p> +"And now for earnest working," thought Roland, as he +turned wearily away from the one cherished spot; "it is a +hard trial to part from such a friend, but it is evidently my +Father's will, that alone I must still pursue my way; I +must not indulge in vain regrets, but 'Looking aloft,' I will +endeavor to do whatsoever my hand findeth to do with +diligence and single-hearted devotion." Day by day, +Roland gathered the heavenly manna, and drank of the spiritual +rock; thus strengthened, he returned with renewed zeal to +the duties of his daily life. +</p> + +<p> +"Whither so fast, my friend?" cried a familiar voice, as +he was threading his way along the busy streets of New +York. Turning quickly, he perceived his college friend, +Edmund Norris. Grasping Roland's hand, he said, +</p> + +<p> +"You are the very one that I want to see; I am going +to Europe, and must have a companion; my mother will +hear of none but you, Roland; come, old fellow! just say +that you will go; I will bear your expenses, and we shall +have a grand time together." +</p> + +<p> +"How long will you be absent, Edmund?" +</p> + +<p> +"About one year; perhaps longer." +</p> + +<p> +"What is your plan?" +</p> + +<p> +"I propose visiting the continent, England, Scotland, and +Ireland; my mother is not willing to trust her wild son +with any one else; when will you give me an answer, +Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow, if you will call at my office, No. 12, +Beekman street." +</p> + +<p> +This offer seemed most opportune. He had no domestic +tie to keep him in America, and here was the opportunity +which he had so long desired, to visit his native land, and +search for his relations, if any he had left. +</p> + +<p> +"I will go, Edmund," was his reply; "when shall we sail?" +</p> + +<p> +"In the first steamer; I wish to be there early in the +fall." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be ready, Edmund; I can leave my business in +the hands of a young man in my office." +</p> + +<p> +The Thornlys were especially sorry to lose the young +inmate; and Helen's pale cheek and depressed spirits +betrayed the interest which she felt in the young man. +</p> + +<p> +"You will write to Edgar, Mr. Bruce, I hope," was her +last injunction. "I should not be surprised if you should +meet Miss Hamilton abroad, for they have all gone for her +father's health, to consult London physicians." +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell, Miss Helen, I shall always be grateful for +your kindness." +</p> + +<p> +Roland did not see the tear which trembled on her cheek, +as she turned away to hide her emotion. +</p> + +<p> +When he reached the vessel, a handsome dressing-case, +a sea wrapper, slippers, and cap, with the kind regards of +Mr. Thornly, awaited him, with the label, "A small +acknowledgment of benefits conferred upon Edgar, by his +grateful father." +</p> + +<p> +A swift passage across the Atlantic, in very fine weather, +brought them to their desired haven. It had been keenly +enjoyed by Roland, for the sight of the wide expanse of +ocean was exhilarating to a soul like his. When first +espying the white cliffs of Dover, he mentally asked, "shall I +find any kindred in my native land, or am I still to wander +alone in this wide world? Be that as my Father wills; I +have kindred there," looking upward, "they await my +coming." +</p> + +<p> +He was so young when he first left Scotland, that much +of the impression had vanished, and the present, therefore, +had all the charm of novelty. +</p> + +<p> +Taking a steamer, they crossed the Channel, and after a +short journey on land, found themselves among the crowds +of Paris, wending their way alone, in search of lodgings. +</p> + +<p> +Taking rooms together, they soon realized that their +surroundings were totally different from America; and curiosity +for a few days kept them busy visiting the lions of the +brilliant city, and making themselves acquainted with its +numerous works of art, and countless attractions. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Edmund became a little domesticated, Roland +took tickets for their attendance upon a course of scientific +lectures, in one of the best institutions of the great +city. +</p> + +<p> +It was an important advantage to study with such a +friend; for Roland's comprehensive mind, and clear +intellect took in all that was demonstrated, and many a maze +of perplexed reasoning was made clear to Edmund by the +keen analysis of Roland's superior powers. +</p> + +<p> +"You must not expect me to visit the vicious amusements +of Paris, Edmund, my principles forbid this; but, if +you must see all, Mr. Lisle, a young American, of fine +moral character, is here, and will escort you; he is a safe +guide; I hope that you will see the real tendency of sinful +pleasures, and learn to value something higher." +</p> + +<p> +"Just let me tell you, Roland, about the opera," said +Edmund, one night, after his return, "it was splendid; the +music was enchanting, the Emperor and Empress were +both present—what a cold, dead, statuesque face he has! +That beautiful woman cannot love him, I am sure; you +should see Eugenie, she is truly an elegant woman, and her +dress was perfect. I don't believe that there is much love +for the Emperor here, for, although the audience noticed +his presence, by a 'Vive l'Empereur,' there was no heart +in it." +</p> + +<p> +"You only saw the outside of the opera, Edmund; you +did not follow the multitude who crowd gambling saloons, +and other vicious places of resort after the opera was over. +I should be sorry to see you escorted there by any of these +gay young Frenchmen; while I feel as if I have no right +to put actual restrictions upon your liberty, I trust that you +will promise me one thing, Edmund." +</p> + +<p> +"What is that, Roland? You are so reasonable with +me, so considerate, that I think I may safely promise." +</p> + +<p> +"You will find that there is no Sabbath in Paris; that is, +no Christian Sabbath; people attend to business and seek +their pleasure more on that day than on any other. I want +you to promise that you will attend upon the Evangelical +Chapel on Sunday, and avoid the places of public amusement." +</p> + +<p> +"I can easily promise that, Roland, for I feel shocked +myself at what I see." +</p> + +<p> +It was a refreshing season to Roland, when he could turn +aside from the gay glittering world around him, and +worship his God with many of the wise and good of all +Protestant churches. Sometimes American ministers led the +devotions of the day, and he could then join in the familiar +hymns of his childhood and youth, even in the midst of an +infidel and dissolute capital. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is that young man?" said Dr. M. to Henry Lisle, +"I have observed his devotional aspect; I think he is a +stranger; I really feel as if I should like to make his +acquaintance." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a young Scotchman; he has lived most of his +life in America, and is here with a friend, whose studies +he is directing." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know him, Lisle? if so, introduce me." +</p> + +<p> +After the services, Dr. M. was made acquainted with +Roland, and he began to feel not quite so much alone in the +great world. +</p> + +<p> +At the rooms of Dr. M. he was privileged to meet what +was really the choice society of Paris. The good and wise +frequently assembled at his apartments, and Roland and +Edmund were, at all times, welcome guests. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. M. had heard from Edmund something of his history, +and having struggled himself in his early days, deeply +sympathized with the brave young spirit of Roland Bruce. +Sometimes, they were invited to the saloons of French +philosophers, but the skeptical spirit, everywhere +manifested, led Roland to be very careful how he exposed his +young friend to such influences. +</p> + +<p> +The halls of art were crowded with the finest specimens +of distinguished artists, both of ancient and modern days; +and our young friends spent many hours in examining these +wondrous triumphs of human skill. The winter passed +rapidly; early in the spring, they visited Switzerland, +explored its natural beauties, passed through Germany, sailed +upon the Rhine, and recrossing the Channel, found +themselves in London, at the opening of the gay season. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was pleased at the improvement manifested in +Edmund; he was learning to distinguish between the good +and the vile, and his friend felt as if he might trust him +while in London, without his supervision, which he knew he +must do, when he should visit Scotland, or else leave him +in one of the Scottish cities. Roland busied himself for +awhile in seeing the sights of London, and in visiting the +ragged schools, and other benevolent institutions, by which +he gained many valuable hints from those so much longer +engaged in such good works. +</p> + +<p> +Taking up the paper one morning, he read a glaring +account of a drawing-room, when the Queen of England +gave one of her receptions. +</p> + +<p> +A rapturous description was given of the first appearance +of Miss Hamilton, a young American. Her beauty, her +grace, her manners were descanted upon. The perfect ease +of her deportment, as she advanced under the escort of the +American Minister, was described; and a brilliant season +prophesied for the young heiress of Woodcliff. She was +particularly distinguished by the Queen, who, contrary to +her general practice, made some especial remarks to her +about her country. Madeline's blushing acknowledgment +of Her Majesty's notice was much enlarged upon. +</p> + +<p> +Roland read the account with mingled feelings; but pain +was uppermost, for he feared that the very novelty of the +scene would insensibly draw her heart away from better +things. +</p> + +<p> +Edmund having brought letters of introduction was +presented on the same day. He came home to Roland in +ecstacies of delight. +</p> + +<p> +"You should have seen the blaze of English beauty; but +it was nothing compared to the young American, Miss +Hamilton; theirs was rich, blooming, rosy, the glow of full +redundant health, and the grace and ease of high birth; +hers was spiritual! delicate! bewitching! none could tell +which was the most beautiful; hair, eyes, coloring, or +expression, but one exquisite combination of all that can +attract in woman. Then her ease, her simplicity, her +apparent unconsciousness, was the theme of every tongue. +Her dress was perfect; her pure white lace, with moss-rose +buds, and a set of pearls, softened still more her delicate +beauty; she managed her train, Roland, as if she had +dwelt in the presence of royalty all her life, stepping backward +so gracefully, I could imagine the pretty little foot, by +the beautiful hand and arm. I declare, Roland, I was +proud of our young American. I'll warrant she has a +royal nature, royal in its highest sense; you ought to have +seen her, Roland. I waited until the drawing-room was +dismissed, and stood at the door, to see her handed to her +carriage by Lord N——, an elegant young nobleman; did +not I envy the fellow, Roland? I'll find out where she +stays, and, mark me! I'll have an introduction before the +month is over." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was amused at Edmund's enthusiasm, and troubled +at the account of the impression made in the world of +fashion by his peerless young friend. +</p> + +<p> +"In the gay metropolis, with all her attractions, will she +be kept unscathed?" whispered Roland to his heart. "Looking +aloft" for her, as well as for himself, he felt the blessedness +of remembering her in his daily prayers, and never was +Madeline forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Edmund frequently alluded to his want of success in +obtaining Miss Hamilton's direction, but one day, he came in +full of glee: "Lisle is here, Roland; he knows Lord N——, +and he will inquire of him for Miss Hamilton; he has letters +of introduction to some of the nobles of England, and is as +much interested as I in trying to find out where she is. +The Duke of D—— will give a ball next week, Lisle is +invited; he will get an introduction for me before that time, +and I shall then meet Miss Hamilton." +</p> + +<p> +Edmund seemed possessed with this one idea of obtaining +an introduction to the reigning star. +</p> + +<p> +"Congratulate me, Roland; the Duke of D—— called +yesterday on Lisle while I was there; I was introduced as +Lisle's young American friend, and to-day I have a card for +the ball." +</p> + +<p> +Nothing else was talked of but the coming ball. Edmund's +head was full of the anticipated pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +The evening came and passed. Next day, Edmund was +in a high state of excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"I was introduced, Roland, to Miss Hamilton, but that +was all, I could get no nearer; she was surrounded by +admirers—the Duke of D——, and the Earl of M——, Lord +B——, and Lord G——, but most of all, Lord N——, were +devoted in their attentions. If her young head is not turned +by all this, I shall proclaim her a wonder. Lord N—— is +a handsome young nobleman, with that respectful deference +to ladies, and especially to Miss Hamilton, which I think +would captivate such a girl." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was compelled to listen silently, for he had not +told Edmund that he had ever seen Madeline; but every +word was painful, for he felt the ordeal to be so +severe—would she come out unharmed? +</p> + +<p> +"I went last night to the opera, Roland; Miss Hamilton +was there, attended by her father and Lord N——. +Mr. Hamilton looked so proud of his beautiful daughter, and no +wonder; nothing to compare to her could be seen anywhere +last night; eye-glasses were levelled at her from all +quarters, but I really don't believe that she knew it, and, if +she did, she certainly did not betray it." +</p> + +<p> +Roland attended weekly upon the services of the +Rev. Mr. B——, a minister of the establishment, simply on +account of the earnest spirituality of his preaching. +</p> + +<p> +On the next Sunday, whom should he see advancing up +the aisle, in a simple modest dress, with a close bonnet and +veil, but Madeline, attended by her father and aunt. +</p> + +<p> +Several pew-doors were opened, but the sexton led them +forward to a pew, where sat a young lady and gentleman of +high rank. +</p> + +<p> +"That is Lord N——," whispered Edmund to Roland, +for he had observed the party. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was earnest, devout, prayerful, and listened to +the sermon with such an humble, serious manner, as to lead +Roland to hope that she was yet the simple, earnest child +of Woodcliff. Lord N—— and his sister were equally +devout, and Roland felt that the deportment of the young +man in church was just such as was calculated to please +one like Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +It was pleasant to worship God in the same house with +his friend, to sing the same hymns, and use the solemn +words of the same beautiful service. The service ended, +Roland paused a moment at the door, hoping to receive one +passing glance, but Madeline walked out, closely attended +by Lord N——, who handed the party to their carriage, ere +he entered his own; she did not even see Roland. His +heart sank, for he could not bear to think himself forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Edmund still continued to rave about Madeline, telling +whenever he met her, and running on in the same strain +about her beauty. +</p> + +<p> +The next Sunday, Roland bent his steps to the Ragged +School in one of the lanes of London. +</p> + +<p> +When he entered, he was surprised to see several ladies +of rank in the audience. It was a novel sight, for there +were large numbers present from the very lowest haunts, +clothed in rags and filth, even up to those who had adopted +some of the customs of civilized humanity. +</p> + +<p> +Far up the room, he thought that he saw a familiar form; +he advanced, and attended by Lord N—— and his sister, +sat Madeline, in all the sweet simplicity of her girlish days. +</p> + +<p> +She saw Roland, a bright smile welcomed him, and he +stepped forward extending his hand, his honest, strong, +guiding hand; the very touch was strength to Madeline. +No more salutations were exchanged until the close of the +services. +</p> + +<p> +"How came you here, Miss Madeline?" was the first question. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you not tell me to visit such places when I came +to London, Mr. Bruce?" was the frank, artless answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Miss Madeline for the remembrance; have +you learned anything by your visits?" +</p> + +<p> +"A great deal, for Lord N—— and Lady Alice are both +interested in these good works, and they have told me +the various ways by which these poor creatures may be +reached." +</p> + +<p> +"London and its gayeties have not then wholly obliterated +your desires to do good, Miss Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"By no means, Mr. Bruce," replied Madeline, with one +of her brightest smiles; "I am only anxious to be once +more at Woodcliff to put some of my plans into practice." +</p> + +<p> +"How is Mr. Hamilton, Miss Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"Rather better; we see that London air agrees with +him, and shall, therefore, stay longer in England than we +had at first intended." +</p> + +<p> +This was a short, but pleasant interview, and Roland +felt cheered by the few hasty words dropped by Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +Passing through the streets of London one day, he +observed Madeline in a carriage with the lady whom she +styled Lady Alice—it was evidently a nobleman's carriage +by the coronet on the pannels. He sighed as he thought +of the great distance between them socially, but could not +resist the opportunity of watching the carriage, which +stopped at the door of a store; the ladies dismounted, and +entered the store; waiting for them to return to the +carriage, Roland inquired whose carriage it was, and the +direction of their residence. Having obtained information, he +walked to the spot, and saw the elegant mansion where +Madeline was staying—what folly! thought he, to suppose +that she can ever regard me in any other light than an +humble friend; but it is a pleasure to see her. He had not +stood many minutes, ere he perceived a lady's form standing +near the drawing-room window; she looked out, but +not observing Roland, who stood concealed behind a tree. +</p> + +<p> +Soon he heard voices, for the window was open; and in +a few minutes more, the rich melody of Madeline's notes, +singing a new and brilliant piece. He stood sorrowfully, +for why should he thus haunt her dwelling to hang upon a +voice, which the friendship of early days had given him a +right to hear still in the intimate communion of a congenial +spirit. It seemed a cold barrier of society which thus shut +him out, and which he sometimes felt he must dare to +batter down. +</p> + +<p> +The season was passing rapidly; and Roland began to +prepare for his northern tour. Edmund had concluded to +accompany him, for he had not made the progress in +Madeline's acquaintance that he desired. +</p> + +<p> +His journey through England was truly delightful—like +a beautiful garden, every corner was highly cultivated; +gentlemen's country seats, noblemen's splendid palaces and +parks, picturesque villages, and shady, green lanes +everywhere met his eye, and though unlike the grand features +of American scenery, the panorama had all the charm of a +lovely picture of domestic ease and elegance, the charm +which dwells so especially among English homes. Stopping +awhile at the Lakes of Westmoreland, they explored +its exquisite beauties, so often the subject of the painter's +pencil, and the poet's pen; and passing on, travelled more +rapidly, until they reached Edinburgh; visiting many spots +of historic interest. Roland stayed a few days, and then +turned his face towards his native hills, leaving Edmund +in Edinburgh, until he should hear from him. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXII. +<br><br> +MIST ON THE MOUNTAIN. +</h3> + +<p> +November, with its chilly winds, finds Roland a traveller +in Scotland. He has the directions given by his mother, +and has to cross a mountain region in a stage, ere he +reaches his native village. It is a lonely journey, for he is +the only passenger; and a heavy Scotch mist is rapidly +falling over the dreary landscape; distant mountains are +first enveloped, then trees and bushes, and last even the +scattered houses along the road-side, until all is darkness +and gloom. +</p> + +<p> +He had heard of a Scotch mist, but could never have +conceived of anything so murky, so dense, and yet behind +it all was the bright and cheering sun. So is the experience +of human life, often enveloped in heavy clouds, shrouded +in darkness; yet beyond, God our Father sits guiding the +changes of our destiny. +</p> + +<p> +Evening approached—no human beings could be seen; +and nothing disturbed the solitude, save the muffled lowing +of the cattle through the heavy atmosphere, the bleating +of sheep, and the faint tinkling of the bells which they +wear to direct their guides. +</p> + +<p> +No signs betokened their approach to human habitations; +as yet no beacon pointed to his native village, and there +may be no voice of kindred to welcome him to his mother's +home. So impenetrable was the darkness, that the stage +stopped for the night. It was a gloomy period in Roland's +young life—but never did the brave spirit forget his motto; +"Looking aloft!" through mist, through clouds and darkness, +he slept the blessed rest of perfect trust. He woke +in the morning to see the first bright rays of the rising sun +beaming through his shutters; opening them, Roland looked +out upon a scene of surpassing grandeur; lofty mountains +in the distance, range after range, over which the sun was +rising in all his majesty, thick heavy woodland wearing the +dusky hues of autumn, flocks of sheep under the care of +their guides, here and there the shepherds' huts, and over +all, the bright sunlight flooding the landscape with his +glory, and tinging the clouds of mist with prismatic hues, +as they rolled away, and mingled with the higher +atmosphere, leaving the landscape all revealed. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was cheered by the sight. "So may it be at +last with my destiny," thought the youth; "if I seek God's +glory in all, he will fulfil his promises." After a hearty +breakfast of hot bannocks and milk, Roland resumed his +journey, and referred to the driver for information +concerning the rest of his journey. +</p> + +<p> +"How far are we from Glendale, driver?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aboot tharty mile or mair, I ken." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know the family of the Gordons?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do ye mean the family o' the auld minister, David Gordon?" +</p> + +<p> +"The same," was Roland's reply. +</p> + +<p> +"The auld minister bae gane to his rest these mony years; +I dinna ken how lang syne." +</p> + +<p> +"His son and daughter?" continued Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Baith gane hame." +</p> + +<p> +Roland bowed his head, for now he felt his desolation. +</p> + +<p> +"Is there no one there, driver, who can give me any +information concerning them?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, there is the auld servant, Jennie Scott; she lives +near by the auld manse." +</p> + +<p> +In a few hours, Roland found himself approaching his +native village; he had some remembrance of these familiar +scenes; the lake where he had rowed in his childhood with +Uncle Alick, the manse with its grove of old trees, and +the kirk not far off, he found were realities that had their +picture hung up in the halls of memory. +</p> + +<p> +Stopping at the village-inn he sought out the old servant. +Knocking at the cottage door, a face somewhat familiar +presented itself. "Is this Jennie Scott?" asked Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"It is so, please your honor; will ye sit doon, sir, in my +humble cottage?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you remember Roland Bruce, the little son of Mary +Gordon, Jennie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do I remember the bairn that I nursed so lang in these +auld arms? Can I e'er forget the bonny chiel? Mine were +the first arms that held him after he breathed the breath o' +life—can ye tell me ony thing aboot the lad?" +</p> + +<p> +"He stands before you, Jennie," and Roland seized the +hand of his old nurse, while she threw herself upon his +bosom, and wept for joy. +</p> + +<p> +"It canna' be,—he was sic a wee bairn when I saw him +last, and now sic a braw an' winsome mon. Bless the +Lord! O, my soul, for a' his guidness to his auld servant." +</p> + +<p> +Roland then told the old woman something of his +history, and what had brought him to Scotland. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye've came too late, my son; the auld minister has been +dead these ten years. O, he greeted sair for ye, my bairn. +Miss Ellen died in twa years after that, and Mr. Alick twa +years ago; ye've nae mother's kin in Scotland, that I ken, +Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"And none in America, my old friend, my mother and +sister both sleep in Jesus, and I am alone in the wide +world; but then, God is my Father—can I visit the old +manse, Jennie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my bairn, I keep the key, for I gang owre there +every few weeks to luik after the furniture, and to keep it +a' clean." +</p> + +<p> +"How is it, Jennie, that it is not inhabited?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Mr. Alick ordered, when he died, that it sud be +kept closed for three years, and if nane came to claim it +then, that it might be sold, for it belanged to the auld +minister, Roland, and Mr. Alick hoped that the right heir +might come some day." +</p> + +<p> +Jennie led the way to the old homestead, and as they +advanced, tears would force themselves into Roland's +eyes, as he recognized the familiar porch, and one old tree, +where he had so often played. She opened the shutters, +and let in the light of day. All was in a state of perfect +neatness and order. +</p> + +<p> +The family-parlor was so comfortable, from which a glass +door opened into the minister's study. +</p> + +<p> +How sacred it appeared! The study-table where he had +prepared so many sermons for his flock—the old arm-chair +where he had sat—the couch where he had reclined when +weary—the book-case, with its shelves of devotional books, +and the best authors of the Scottish Church; and on the +study-table, his old Bible marked from the Old to the New +Testament by his own venerable hands. In a table-drawer, +lay his spectacles, the inkstand that he used, and +even the pen with which he wrote. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, Roland! at this carpet," said Jennie, as she +pointed to the spot so worn by the old man's knees, for he +always knelt in one particular place. "This is a sacred +room, Roland, an' I hae always been sae happy to ken +that nae stranger has e'er come in here amang the auld +minister's books." +</p> + +<p> +From the study, they passed into his mother's room. +</p> + +<p> +There stood the cradle, and the rocking-chair, in which +she had sat, to nurse her babes. +</p> + +<p> +Jennie took up her apron to wipe her old eyes as she +said,— +</p> + +<p> +"How mony times hae I seen Mary Gordon, when she +thought naebody saw her, weep owre the cradle, as she +rocked her babes to sleep; but she was a guid woman, +Roland, an' a true an' faithful wife. Is yer father living, +my son?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is a hard question to answer, Jennie; it has +always been said that he was lost at sea, but strange +things have happened to make me sometimes think he +may yet be alive." +</p> + +<p> +"He was aye a sad an' gloomy mon, Roland; I sud na +wonder if he were crazed at last." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you tell me anything about Malcolm Graham, +Jennie? I must see him soon." +</p> + +<p> +"He lives aboot twenty miles frae here, up on the side +o' the mountain; he is called far an' nigh 'guid Uncle +Malcolm;' he only lives to do guid, Roland; he has charge +o' a' your property, an' can tell ye a' that ye need." +</p> + +<p> +The place where they stood was full of sad memories, +and the longer he remained, the more familiar he became. +</p> + +<p> +"Why here, Jennie, is the very wheel-barrow that Uncle +Alick brought me all the way from Edinburgh; many a +time have I filled it with pebbles, and emptied them into +the lake," and Roland picked up the toy, and regarded it +tenderly, even as an old friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us go now, Jennie, for I must make some preparations +to visit Uncle Malcolm." +</p> + +<p> +"Ye maun gang amang some o' your grandfather's people +first, Roland; they wud be sair grieved if ye gang awa' +without seeing them." +</p> + +<p> +"I will stay over the Sabbath, Jennie, if you can keep +me at your little cottage, for I want to go to the old kirk, +where my mother worshipped God." +</p> + +<p> +The weeds in the little garden around the house, and the +neglected look of the grounds, spoke volumes to Roland's +heart of the dear ones who had vanished from the old +manse, and of the busy hands now silent in the grave. +</p> + +<p> +"What is that, Jennie?" said Roland, as he observed +a little mound under an old tree, with a piece of board at +the head. +</p> + +<p> +"Read the words, Roland, an' ye'll see what lies buried +there." +</p> + +<p> +"Here lies old Shep, the faithful dog; for twelve years +he served his master." +</p> + +<p> +"I remember him, Jennie; many a time has he carried +me on his back." +</p> + +<p> +"This auld place is fu' o' death, Roland, but it is just as +fu' o' hope; for a' wha hae gane before, hae died the death +o' the righteous; an' they a' sleep in the Lord." +</p> + +<p> +Roland spent the days between this and the Sabbath in +rambling about, and in company with old Jennie visiting +his grandfather's parishioners. They all expressed great +joy on seeing the young man, and observed universally the +likeness to his father. +</p> + +<p> +"But he has nane o' the gloom," said the old sexton; +"he has the same black hair an' dark e'en, but the look is +a' upward an' bright, as if he walked wi' his grandfather's +God." +</p> + +<p> +On the Sabbath day, in company with old Jennie Scott, +he walked up the aisle of the old kirk. She was a proud +woman on that day—for was not she walking wi' her minister's +grandson? the handsomest, the noblest, an' the best o' a' +the young men around Glencoe? +</p> + +<p> +He sat in his mother's seat, and used the old book which +contained her name. On the fly-leaf was written— +</p> + +<p> +"Malcolm Graham, sailed on the first day of March, 1807. +May God be with him to bless and keep him." +</p> + +<p> +On another leaf was written—"Mary Gordon, married +to Stephen Bruce, Oct. 1st, 1811. May God bless the union +with peace." +</p> + +<p> +Roland's tears dropped over these silent memorials, but it +was a blessed thought that all the cares and trials of that +beloved mother were over forever; and as he now joined +in the psalms which she had often sung in the pew of her +own kirk, so he hoped in the church triumphant to sing +with her and Effie the song of Moses and the Lamb. +</p> + +<p> +After the service, he visited the graves of his kindred, +and with true delicacy, none of the plain Scotch people +intruded upon his solitude, as he stood in silence around the +sacred spot. "What a blessing to have godly ancestors!" +thought Roland; "followed all my life by earnest prayer, +God has shielded and blessed me thus far with the knowledge +of himself as my reconciled Father in Christ Jesus." +</p> + +<p> +Many were the warm greetings which met him at the +church gate; and many the blessings that were showered +upon him by the people who loved the memory of their +dear old minister. +</p> + +<p> +"I must go, Jennie," said Roland, when Monday morning +came. "I am anxious to find Uncle Malcolm." +</p> + +<p> +"Ye will see me again before ye return to America?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes, Jennie; I will be sure to return." +</p> + +<p> +It was a cold, bleak morning, when he started. +</p> + +<p> +"I think we are going to hae a snow-storm, Roland; had +ye na better wait a day or twa?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think not, Jennie; I can get along very well;" and he +would not hear of farther delay. +</p> + +<p> +"I ken the signs around these dark mountains, Roland; +we shall hae a heavy fa' o' snaw before nicht—the stage +will only tak' ye within three miles o' Malcolm's house, +an' it will be a dark journey on foot in a snaw-storm." +</p> + +<p> +"God is with me, Jennie; I must go." +</p> + +<p> +"Fare ye weel! my bairn, till we meet again," said the +old woman. +</p> + +<p> +Taking up his carpet-bag, and seeing his trunk carefully +deposited, he started on his journey. +</p> + +<p> +It was a raw, chilly morning; he had provided himself +with a tartan plaid, and wrapping himself in its heavy folds, +he took his seat in the stage. The wind sighed heavily as +though a storm was really brewing. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall hae to plew through heavy drifts before we +reach the end o' our journey," said the driver. +</p> + +<p> +As they ascended the road, the animals were well aware +of what was coming; and the wild mountain birds screamed +around them with foreboding warnings. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time, the snow commenced falling; at first, +skurrying in little gusts of driving wind, then more and +more thickly, until they were in the midst of a heavy +mountain storm. +</p> + +<p> +The atmosphere was filled with the flakes, which, driven +by fierce winds, drifted on the side of the road. +</p> + +<p> +More and more difficult became the travelling; the poor +jaded horses could scarcely drag the vehicle through the +piles of snow. +</p> + +<p> +Stopping for dinner at a road-side inn, the landlord looked +out upon the storm with a serious countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a pity, young mon, that ye cam' oot in sic a storm; +it will be fearfu' before nightfa'; perhaps ye had better +bide wi' us until the mornin' breaks." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I must push on;" for Roland was not one to be +daunted by difficulties. +</p> + +<p> +"Hae ye ever been oot in a Scotch snaw-storm on the +mountains, my lad? Ye dinna' ken what ye hae to encounter." +</p> + +<p> +"I have not," was the reply; "but I shall only have +three miles to walk, and that will be easier, I think, than +riding." +</p> + +<p> +"Walk in sic a storm! I am sorry for the mon that tries +it this dark night." +</p> + +<p> +The stage started; the storm increased; it was a weary +drag through the piled up snow: and yet it was still falling +thicker, faster, while the wind was raging; frequently, the +horses had to pause; and it was late, indeed quite night, +when they halted at the stopping place. +</p> + +<p> +The driver directed Roland how to find the road to +Graham Hall; indeed, to be sure that he had the right +start, he walked with him some distance, until he was +fairly on the track. +</p> + +<p> +It was up a by-road that he was now walking. He was +directed to go straight-forward until he came to a gate, that +led directly to Malcolm's house, about one mile distant. It +was a weary journey, more difficult than he had imagined; +the beating of the snow in his face, and the tremendous +power of the wind against which he was struggling, +frequently overpowered him; and he had to stand still with +his back to the storm, to recover himself for fresh efforts; +his feet were growing benumbed, his mouth stiffened, and +the feeling of weariness almost compelling him to lie down +to sleep, was creeping slowly over him. Still he persevered, +and roused all his energies to shake off the lethargy. +</p> + +<p> +In his carpet-bag, he remembered a small flask of wine +which Jennie had thoughtfully placed there; taking a +mouthful, he felt revived. But he certainly ought to be +near the gate; he had walked so long, and yet he could +find none. He must be lost—what was now to be done? +He stood silent for a minute, prayed for guidance, strained +eyes and ears for some direction. At last, he heard the +bark of a dog; he did not seem very far off. Roland +whistled, and advancing a few steps farther, he thought he +saw a light, very dim in the midst of the falling snow, but +still there was really a faint glimmer; he tried to follow it, +and as he advanced, it became brighter; then he felt that +he was in the right path to a human habitation. He +hallooed, as loud as his failing strength would allow, several +times; the light moved, another light was visible; it was +certainly approaching; in a minute, a dog bounded through +the drifts, and barked loud and long. "Dinna' be alarmed," +cried a man's voice, "he is only telling us that he has +found ye." In another second a man appeared with a +lantern. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye hae been oot in a sair storm, my friend; follow me, +an' I will bring ye to a safe harbor." +</p> + +<p> +"I am searching for Malcolm Graham," was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Hoot awa', mon! ye are far oot o' the way; it is a +guid thing that I found ye in time." +</p> + +<p> +Taking Roland by the arm, he led him forward through +the drifts, to the door of his humble cottage, where his +good wife stood waiting her husband's return. +</p> + +<p> +"Throw me my tartan, wife," cried the man; "here is a +lost traveller, an' I am ganging to guide him to Graham Hall; +gi' the dogs the lanterns; come, Jack, come, Joan," +continued the man, as he fastened the small lanterns with +reflectors, around the dogs' necks. "We are safe enow, +sir, for these tykes ken every turn o' these mountain +roads." +</p> + +<p> +They bounded off with a cheery bark, and threading +their way skilfully by the side of the drifts, our travellers +followed the lights with quickened pace. +</p> + +<p> +Bright lights beaming from several windows suddenly +burst upon them. "We are at Graham Hall, sir," said the +shepherd; and hastily stepping up on the front piazza, he +rapped loud with the iron lion's head that served for +knocker at the great hall door. The master presented +himself. "Why, Sandy Armstrong, what brought ye oot in +sic a night as this?" +</p> + +<p> +"I hae found a lost traveller searchin' for Graham Hall, +sir; an' I hae brought him safely to ye; but he is sairly +worn oot." +</p> + +<p> +"Come in, sir, and we shall soon see what the warm +fires and blankets o' Graham Hall can do for ye, my young +friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Guid night, sir," said Sandy, and Roland thanked the +kind man for his safe escort. +</p> + +<p> +"Won't ye tak' some warm negus, Sandys?" said the master. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank ye kindly, sir, but I maun hasten back; the +snow is falling still heavily." +</p> + +<p> +Roland stood for one minute, in the midst of a large hall, +while the master removed his tartan, knocked the snow off +his boots, and hung his cap upon the pegs, where the +master's hunting-dress, his powder-horn, and game-bag, +indicated his love for mountain sports. A set of antlers +mounted the hall-door, and some hunting pictures adorned +the wall. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye are weak and sick, sir," was the kind salutation; +"tak' my arm," and Malcolm Graham led Roland into a +bright family room, where a large wood fire blazed upon +the hearth of a Franklin stove—the rich, dark carpet, the +heavy oak furniture, old fashioned chairs, and pictures of +Highland scenery gave an air of charming comfort to the +apartment, which was truly grateful to the sick and jaded +traveller. +</p> + +<p> +"Lie down, sir, on the couch;" and Malcolm beat up the +soft chintz cushions with the tenderness of a woman, as he +laid Roland down on the comfortable lounge. Perceiving +that Roland made several attempts to speak, the master +continued, +</p> + +<p> +"Dinna talk, there is plenty o' time for that; I will be +back in a minute," and speedily returning, he sat down by +the side of the young man, watching his motions. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, brother, is the negus," said a lady, opening the +door slightly; and Malcolm handed it to Roland. The warm +drink speedily restored vitality to his frame; then taking +off his boots, his kind host rubbed his feet briskly, dropping +cheering words as he performed the service. By this time, +Roland was sufficiently recovered to look around him; and +first he glanced at the tall and noble-looking man that +waited upon him. The dark gray eyes expressed a world +of feeling, and the mouth, though firm, was loving as a +woman's. 'Tis true that the fine head was partially bald, +and the hair that remained was silvered with marks of +time, but there was that about Malcolm Graham that won +Roland's heart at once. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know, sir, whom you are befriending?" was +Roland's first remark. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir, a' that I ken is that ye are a stranger, an' I +took ye in." +</p> + +<p> +"It is fitting that you should know—my name is Roland +Bruce, sir." +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm's color changed, as, seizing the young man's +hand, he exclaimed: "Mary Gordon's son! I thank thee, +O, my Father!" and Malcolm hid his face in his handkerchief +to conceal the storm of mixed emotions which swept +over his countenance, and shook his frame. +</p> + +<p> +"I came from America to search for my relations; but I +find none of my mother's kindred left. I am truly alone in +the wide world; she bade me search for you also." +</p> + +<p> +"Not alone, Roland; Mary's son is my especial care, and +my heart opens wide to receive ye; come to my arms, my +son, and let me press my lips upon yer young brow." +</p> + +<p> +For that warm embrace, the friendship of future years +was sealed, and the two were no more strangers. +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm opened the door and called, "Annie, I hae some +one to introduce to ye," and his sister, Mrs. Lindsay, +entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +"This is Mary Gordon's son, Annie; ye will luve him for +my sake." +</p> + +<p> +The lady greeted him warmly. "Ye are welcome to our +fireside, Roland; but ye maun be very hungry;" and the +good lady hastened away, to order a warm supper for the +weary guest. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened softly, and a young face peeped shyly in. +</p> + +<p> +"Come in, Annot," said her uncle; and a little fairy of +fifteen, with a profusion of light, curly hair, and a dancing +step, advanced shyly to the couch. +</p> + +<p> +"Shake hands wi' Mr. Bruce, Annot; he has come to stay +wi' us, my luve; he is the chiel o' a vera dear friend of +Uncle Malcolm." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to see ye, sir; I luve ilka body that Uncle +Malcolm loves." +</p> + +<p> +Another applicant for introduction, in the form of a large +family dog that lay ensconced on a rug by the fire, had long +been asserting his claims to notice, by repeatedly putting +up his shaggy paw, and looking up in his master's face, for +his share in the ceremonies. +</p> + +<p> +"I maun na' forget auld Lion, Roland; come here, auld +fellow!" and the dog, wagging his tail, put up his rough +paw to salute Roland; at the same time, expressing his +satisfaction by a low growl, that he meant to be +musical—at any rate, it expressed good-will. +</p> + +<p> +Soon a neat-looking Highland girl entered, and spreading +the table, she placed upon it sundry grateful viands. +</p> + +<p> +"Hannah!" said Mrs. Lindsay, "tell Dugald to kindle a +fire in the minister's room." +</p> + +<p> +"And now, Roland, see if ye can tak' some supper," said +the master, as he led his young friend to the table. +</p> + +<p> +He ate sparingly of the profusion spread around him, for +his appetite had not yet returned, but the feeling of perfect +comfort was such a rest, that it was refreshment enough for +Roland, for some hours at least. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall not keep ye late to-night, Roland; ye need +rest, and, to-morrow, ye shall tell me a' your story." +</p> + +<p> +A bell summoned the family for evening worship; two +or three Highland men and women came in from the kitchen, +and took their seats reverently with the family. Annot +opened the piano, Malcolm read a chapter in the Bible, +with some simple comments; Annot played a beautiful +Psalm, in which all joined heartily; and the master +concluded the exercises by a solemn, earnest prayer, in which +Roland was most affectionately remembered. +</p> + +<p> +Taking a light, he said, "Come, Roland, I will tak' ye +to yer room;" and Malcolm led the way to a bright cheerful +chamber, where a glowing fire blazed upon the hearth, +for the master was a great advocate of wood fires. +</p> + +<p> +A warm feather bed, plenty of blankets, with chintz +curtains, an easy rocking-chair, and writing-table, made up a +whole of home comforts, such as Roland had never, in all +his life, enjoyed before. +</p> + +<p> +Fixing the lamp with old bachelor exactness several times +before it suited him, Malcolm left the room, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"Is there onything that ye want, Roland? dinna be +afraid to ask." +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, sir; I am perfectly comfortable; good-night, +sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Guid-night;" and Malcolm left him to the quiet of his +thoughts. Having allowed him time for his devotions, and +preparations for repose, Malcolm entered once more. +</p> + +<p> +"Here is a bowl o' negus, my son, it will na' harm ye +after sic a freezing as ye hae had;" and Malcolm insisted on +his drinking down the whole. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, guid-night, Roland;" and Malcolm laid his hand +in blessing upon the young head, as he continued, +</p> + +<p> +"God bless ye, and gi' ye refreshing sleep." +</p> + +<p> +He lay awake some time, for Roland's emotions were of +that delicious character which none can realize but those +who have been thus suddenly transported from a scene of +danger and suffering to one of perfect rest and safety. The +howling of the wind without, and the beating of the +snowdrifts against the window-panes, were strongly contrasted +with the light of the glowing fire illumining some Scripture +pictures on the wall, the warm, soft bed, and the sweet +atmosphere of Christian love by which he was surrounded. +Truly, "the Lord giveth his beloved sleep!" and such a +sleep was Roland's. +</p> + +<p> +"We did na' wake ye early, Roland;" said his friend, +who came at last to see if he was stirring, "for we kenned +that ye needed rest; how do ye fare this morning?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perfectly well and happy," was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I will leave ye now; as soon as ye are ready, +come down to the breakfast-room." +</p> + +<p> +Roland poured out his heart in earnest, grateful prayer, +dressed himself, and appeared before the family quite +another man. +</p> + +<p> +A smoking breakfast of good, hot coffee, venison, +beef-steak, hot bannocks, muffins, and boiled eggs awaited him; +and, on this occasion, he did ample justice to the tempting +viands. +</p> + +<p> +"We have delayed worship, this morning, on your +account, Roland;" and immediately after breakfast, the +same company again assembled, the same sweet music, +Scripture reading, and fervent prayer of the night before. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, look out upon the landscape, Roland," said the +master, as he led the young man into the family parlor, and +turned aside the heavy curtains that he might see the +picture without. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was shining in all his glory upon the +landscape—mountains of snow were piled up everywhere, glistening +in the sunbeams, which were reflected in prismatic colors +in the icicles pendant from the branches of the trees. Such +a scene Roland had never before witnessed, and, to his +temperament, it was full of exhilaration. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, my son, I am ready for your story;" and Malcolm +led the way to his own private room, directing that he +should not be disturbed that morning. +</p> + +<p> +It was a cozy little apartment, with secretary, writing-table, +book-cases well filled, comfortable chairs, a cushioned +lounge, and a bright wood fire. +</p> + +<p> +A bust of Sir Walter occupied one niche, and Burns +another. A picture of Abbotsford, another of Melrose +Abbey, and one of Burns' Highland Mary, adorned the walls; +and a flute, with piles of music, lay upon a stand in the +corner of the room. Horns of deer branched over the +windows, and several figures of Scottish knights, in bronze, +adorned the mantel-piece. Everywhere, the house was +furnished with the quiet comforts, and even elegancies, of +a Scotch gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +Lion was here, of course; for at all times, he was allowed +free access to Malcolm's apartments, and no more faithful +friend ever followed the fortunes of a master, than good +old Lion. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXIII. +<br><br> +GRAHAM HALL. +</h3> + +<p> +It was a morning fraught with deep and painful memories, +for as Roland related the story of his mother's trials, and +his own struggles with poverty and suffering, Malcolm's +manly heart was stirred within him; and when he read the +manuscript which Mrs. Bruce had left, floods of memory +overpowered him for one moment, for it took him back so +painfully to the days of his youth. +</p> + +<p> +"But she is at rest noo, Roland; there ne'er was a +purer, holier heart in the form o' woman, than that which +beat in the bosom o' Mary Gordon. I should hae made +her happy, Roland, but God willed it otherwise, an' I am +content; but how is it that she could hae suffered so much, +with sic friends in Scotland? Did she na write home?" +</p> + +<p> +"She did, frequently, Uncle Malcolm; for the first year +we received answers; then we were surrounded by mystery; +we could not imagine how it was, but at last, my +mother thought that death must have removed her relatives, +and she ceased to write." +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm opened a small drawer that was kept carefully +locked, and lifting an old pocket-book, took out a lock of +golden hair, and a piece of faded blue ribbon. +</p> + +<p> +"That is to be buried with me in my grave, Roland; it +is a' that is left to me, on earth, o' Mary Gordon; but I +believe that we shall meet in Heaven; for, Roland, we +were made for each other, and shall hold communion yet; +here is a perfect likeness o' your mother, when she was +sweet Mary Gordon;" and Roland gazed upon the picture +with feelings of loving reverence. +</p> + +<p> +It was a bright young face, with deep blue eyes, and a +profusion of light curly hair; innocence marked its general +expression, but in the eyes there was a look of high and +holy inspiration, such as she never lost. +</p> + +<p> +"If ye should outlive me, Roland, that is yours; your +name shall be placed upon the back; would that I could +hae kenned my boy in the days o' his adversity; and now +I hae ane request to make, and it is this; ca' me always +Uncle Malcolm; would that I were mair to ye." +</p> + +<p> +"That will be very easy, dear Uncle Malcolm; for I feel +as if I had indeed found not only a friend, but a relative; +but it is better that I had not known you before; the very +discipline of my life has called out qualities which prosperity +could never have fostered." +</p> + +<p> +"That talisman, Roland, has been your a', it has been +the making o' Mary Gordon's son. 'Looking aloft!' O, what +blessedness in those holy, strengthening words! It shall +be placed upon her miniature, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +When Roland related the early struggles of his life in +New York, the trials at college, the weariness of hope +deferred, his "News-Boys' Home," Malcolm sat with head +bowed upon his hands, and when he had finished his recital, +he clasped Roland in his arms, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Ye are indeed the chiel o' Providence; be my son, +Roland, for I love ye as my ain." +</p> + +<p> +But little was said concerning his early friend, Madeline, +but even the few passing words spoke volumes to Malcolm +Graham. +</p> + +<p> +Bowing down together before the mercy-seat, Malcolm +poured out his soul in earnest prayer for the youth kneeling +by his side, and Roland took up the language of supplication +and praise, and from a full heart poured out his gratitude. +Arm in arm they left the study, and the servants +wondered what the master had found in the lost traveller +of the night before. +</p> + +<p> +"I have some inquiries to make about Aunt Douglass, +for I am strongly inclined to believe that my father still +lives; I think perhaps that she may know something of +him." +</p> + +<p> +A painful expression passed over Malcolm's face, as he +replied,— +</p> + +<p> +"I can direct ye, Roland, but dinna gae yet; stay wi' +me a few days; I want to tell ye aboot a' my plans, and as +soon as the travelling will allow us, I hae mickle to show +ye o' Highland life." +</p> + +<p> +The next day brought Roland acquainted with Uncle +Malcolm's daily habits. A part of each morning was +devoted to Annot's studies, a part to superintending +general business, keeping accounts, and a portion to regular +systematic reading. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes Uncle Malcolm indulged in sporting, a part of +the amusements of Scotch gentlemen. +</p> + +<p> +Friday evening came, and after supper, the master said, +</p> + +<p> +"Dugald, bring in the books an' get ready for the meeting," +and the old servant soon returned with additional +seats, and a large number of hymn books. +</p> + +<p> +"We hae a meeting o' my tenants every Friday, Roland; +we are vera far frae ony kirk, an' I hae to be +minister to them, for they can only attend the quarterly +communions." +</p> + +<p> +Soon the people began to assemble; rough Highlanders, +with their wives and elder children came flocking in. +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm sat at the head of a long table, and as each one +saluted him, it was manifest with what feelings of +affectionate reverence good Uncle Malcolm was regarded by his +humble people. A chapter from the Bible with some familiar +remarks just to the point for his hearers, several beautiful +Scotch psalms, in which all joined earnestly, and then +a prayer from Malcolm, and another from Roland, closed +the evening. +</p> + +<p> +Several remained behind to ask advice; some about their +business, their families, their spiritual needs, their cares +and sorrows, their disputes and difficulties; and the kind +words dropped by the good steward of his Master's goods, +testified to the fidelity with which he discharged his holy +trust. +</p> + +<p> +Daily did Malcolm and Roland ride around among his +humble dependents, and a book for one, a tract for another, +some pecuniary help for others, marked all these visits. +</p> + +<p> +"You see, Roland, that I am pretty busy for an old +bachelor; I could na' live without employment. Then we +hae some pleasant society here, although we live so far +apart. When the gentry visit us, it is to stay several days, +sometimes weeks at a time, for the latch o' Graham Hall is +always up." +</p> + +<p> +On Sabbath afternoon, a company of little ones flocked +to the Hall, and Malcolm, Mrs. Lindsay, and Annot were +the teachers on these occasions. It was quite a pleasant +treat to Roland to aid in the good work. +</p> + +<p> +In the evenings, Annot entertained them with her sweet +Scotch songs, and Roland frequently accompanied her +with his deep, rich voice, and Uncle Malcolm with his flute. +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm often wondered what he should do when Roland +would leave him, for every day he learned to love him, +not only for Mary Gordon's, but for his own sake. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall hae to ask for your room to-night, Roland," +said Mrs. Lindsay, "for the minister is coming, and he +always occupies that room." +</p> + +<p> +"It makes no difference to me, dear Madam; put me +anywhere that suits you." +</p> + +<p> +The Rev. Mr. Murray was a fine specimen of a Scotch +minister, grave, earnest, faithful; he was always welcome +among his humble mountain parishioners, and came +quarterly to look after their welfare. +</p> + +<p> +"Are there ony ready for the Lord's supper, Mr. Graham?" +inquired the minister. +</p> + +<p> +"I think there are four; they will be here next Sabbath, +when ye can examine them." +</p> + +<p> +There was a large gathering at Graham Hall on that +holy day, for notice had been given that the minister was +coming. +</p> + +<p> +He preached an earnest, faithful sermon, somewhat longer +than Roland had been accustomed to, for an hour and a +half were given up to that exercise; long prayers, and long +psalms made the occasion tedious to one not accustomed to +such services, but the people did net complain, although +it brought their dinner two hours later than on other +days. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon, the minister examined several candidates +for the Lord's Supper, which was to be administered +on the following Sabbath, and paid a just tribute to the +fidelity with which they had been instructed by the +minister's earnest helper. Mr. Murray stayed all night, and +gave some wise spiritual advice to Roland before he took +his departure. +</p> + +<p> +"He seems to be a chiel o' God," said Mr. Murray, "and +can come to the sacrament, if he wishes, next Sabbath; it +must be pleasant to hae sic a guest." +</p> + +<p> +"He is a descendant o' the Gordons, Mr. Murray, and a +chiel o' earnest prayer." +</p> + +<p> +"They were aye a godly race, Mr. Graham, an' mony an +ancient martyr bears their name." +</p> + +<p> +On the following Sabbath, Malcolm, Roland, Mrs. Lindsay, +and Annot started at early down in one carriage, and +all the servants in a large, comfortable wagon; the house +was closed for the day, for in Scotland these sacrament +days occupy the whole Sabbath. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the place of concourse, large numbers were +seen coming in all directions; carriages, wagons, people on +horseback and on foot, hurried to the service, for as it +occurred so seldom, it was a great occasion to devout +Scotch people. +</p> + +<p> +Owing to the numbers, the services were out of doors; +a table was spread under large shady trees, and +temporary seats provided for the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +A long sermon was preached, but full of power; long +prayers, but full of unction; deep, sonorous, stirring psalms +were sung by the great multitude, and Roland thought of +the songs of the redeemed in the Revelations, where the +hallelujahs were compared to the voice of many waters. +The effect was sublime under these old trees; young men +and old, mothers, maidens, and little children all joining +in the solemn chorus, with the heavens for their canopy, +and the green sward for their carpeted aisles. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that swingeth,<br> + And tolls its perfume on the passing air,<br> + Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth,<br> + A call to prayer!<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column,<br> + Attest the feebleness of mortal hand;<br> + But to that fane, most catholic and solemn,<br> + Which God hath planned!<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder,<br> + Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply,<br> + Its choir, the winds and waves, its organ thunder,<br> + Its dome, the sky!"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +But here was the voice of God's ambassador, and the +presence of the Holy Ghost, and Roland listened and +worshipped with solemn awe in nature's grand cathedral. +</p> + +<p> +In the intervals between the services, the people +assembled in serious groups under the trees to eat their +meals, for all who lived at a distance had come with the +intention to spend the Sabbath. +</p> + +<p> +No lightness was manifest among the crowds, for Scotch +people are proverbial for their reverence for the Sabbath. +The minister mingled occasionally with his people; but +none, not even the little children, seemed to forget that it +was the holy Sabbath. At the close of the solemn day, +Malcolm and his family returned to their mountain home, +doubtless benefitted by the exercises of this holy service. +</p> + +<p> +"We have had a pleasant day, Uncle Malcolm," said +Roland, "but would it not be better if the services were +not quite so long? I observed many old people nodding +in the afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +"It would be doubtless better, but the customs of the +old Scotch church are very hard to remodel. The good +Dr. Chalmers has done much in the way of reform, but it +has not reached us yet." +</p> + +<p> +"What a noble witness for the truth is that good man! +There is but one such man in our age, Uncle Malcolm; at +least but one given to an especial branch of the Christian +church." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland, the Church of England has her Bickersteth; +the Baptist, her Robert Hall; the Methodist, her +Wesley; and a' seeking one great end, the glory of the +Saviour, and the spread of his kingdom. What a blessed +day that will be, when these sects shall pass away, and we +shall be truly one in Christ, once more the simple primitive +Christians of Antioch!" +</p> + +<p> +And thus they fulfilled the blessed command of their +Master, talking of the things of his kingdom, until like the +disciples on their way to Emmaus their hearts burned +within them with emotions of holy love. Where the +fountain is full, the streams will gush forth naturally, freely, +healthfully. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a fine day, Uncle Malcolm," said Roland, on the +following Monday; "can we go to-day to visit the glen +where my martyred ancestors lie?" +</p> + +<p> +"I was thinking o' it mysel', Roland; the weather could +na' be better, hard roads, and clear sharp air—it is a long +ride frae' here, and we will set out early—hae the carriage +ready, Dugald, and a basket o' provision; we will gae in +aboot an hour." +</p> + +<p> +It was a splendid ride over these mountain roads, winding +around in their ascent to heights whence there were +vistas charming in their grandeur even at this season; then +descending into rural glens where the cottages of the +peasantry ever and anon met their view. "There is Castle +Kennicott, Roland;" and Malcolm pointed to a miserable +range of buildings, so dilapidated that his companion smiled +at the name. +</p> + +<p> +"There lives old Sir Peter Kennicott; he is a specimen +o' an auld Scottish laird, vera poor, and vera proud; his +wife, Lady Catherine, and three daughters, make up his +household; they visit us two or three times a year, and +living as they do in the seclusion o' their Highland home, +ken but little o' the ways o' the rest o' the warld; they are +vera amusing wi' their quaint auld-fashioned manners; but +Lady Catherine is a guid woman, and much esteemed." +</p> + +<p> +Beguiling the way with pleasant chat, in a few hours +they reached the spot they sought for. Dismounting, they +stood around the lowly grave—the same ruined chimney, +the same grand old trees, the same dark and sombre glen, +where no human habitation was visible, recalled the picture +so deeply engraved upon the memory of Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"We stood just here, Uncle Malcolm," (and Roland +almost whispered, for he felt in the midst of solemn +associations,) "when my mother told me the story of old David +Gordon and the sweet Lilian, and I think from that day +my childish soul took a great leap in its existence, and I +never could forget the thoughts which stirred within me, +as I remembered that my ancestors were among the holy +band of Christian martyrs." +</p> + +<p> +"It is a great honor, Roland, to be descended frae those +who will hereafter be kings and priests unto God." +</p> + +<p> +"What a cruel being man must be that can slay such +innocence as slumbers here!" +</p> + +<p> +"And yet it is frae oot sic dreadful scenes o' bluidshed +that great principles to bless our race arise; the struggles +between right and wrong are often ushered in by the gibbet, +the stake, or the battle-axe." +</p> + +<p> +"O, what a happy time that will be, Uncle Malcolm, +when the nations shall learn war no more! when man shall +love his brother man." +</p> + +<p> +"It is coming, Roland; sure as God's word is true, sic a +day will dawn upon the earth." +</p> + +<p> +Hours were spent around the humble grave, for both felt +the inspiration of the scene. +</p> + +<p> +"I hae something mair to show ye, Roland; here is ane +o' the caves where our fathers used to hide in those dismal +days; and mony a time in the midst o' baptismal or sacrament +seasons in these lonely glens, at the sound o' the +tramp o' Claverhouse and his troopers, would they hae to +fly to these damp and gloomy shelters." +</p> + +<p> +"How solemn must have been the worship of these +days, Uncle Malcolm; ever on the borders of eternity, they +must always have sounded like funereal hymns in these +solitudes!" +</p> + +<p> +"And yet how much we hae read o' their heroic spirit, +their brave endurance, and their triumph over death! I +can imagine strains o' victory always mingling wi' a +martyr's hymn." +</p> + +<p> +When they arrived at home, letters from Edmund awaited +Roland; he seemed to be growing tired of travelling +alone. Uncle Malcolm, with his accustomed hospitality, +immediately wrote a few lines of cordial invitation to +Graham Hall. +</p> + +<p> +"Wha' hae we here?" asked Mrs. Lindsay. +</p> + +<p> +Roland looked out, and, lumbering up the road, came a +large old-fashioned carriage, with two fat, lazy horses. +</p> + +<p> +"It is Sir Peter," continued the lady; and soon the party +stopped at the door. +</p> + +<p> +"How fares it wi' ye a'?" said the old man, as he stepped +slowly from the carriage, and warmly shook the master's +hand. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Catherine followed, and then the three daughters, +with their pets—Miss Juliana, with her cat; Miss Winnie, +with a fat lap-dog; and Miss Jacky, with a large parrot, +brought to her from abroad by a sailor cousin. Sundry +bandboxes, and a trunk, indicated that they meant to stay +for some days at least. The three ladies had all passed +the hey-day of youth, for the youngest was thirty at least. +Miss Juliana, the eldest, having passed two seasons at +Edinburgh, was the only one who pretended to the manners +of a lady; she still preserved carefully the wardrobe +of those youthful days for extra occasions, such as a +visit to Graham Hall. On this day, a worn-out travelling +dress, made in the fashion of twenty years ago, looked +rather antiquated; but the narrow purse of Kennicott +Castle made a virtue of necessity. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Peter, clad in the costume of ancient times, with his +bob-wig and powdered hair, his small clothes, and silver +knee and shoe-buckles, his three-cornered hat, and +silver-headed cane, with a coat whose pockets were large enough +to hold a change of clothing, presented a most grotesque +appearance, and really might have been mistaken for a +person rigged out for a dramatic scene. Lady Catherine +was equally antique. After the ceremony of introduction, +they were escorted to their rooms; and nothing more was +seen of them until dinner-time, when their appearance at +the table indicated the employment of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Juliana was arrayed in a youthful dress of light +blue silk; and, as the eldest, wore the old family jewels, +which certainly were not of the most costly kind. Her +hair was dressed in the most youthful style; but artificial +rose-buds could not conceal the gray locks, or hide the +shrivelled cheeks. She carried a fan, with which she +performed certain singular manœuvres, which she considered +the very tip of the haut-ton. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Juliana was the oracle of the family; for had she +not been in Edinburgh for two seasons? and ought she not +to know the fashions of high life? +</p> + +<p> +Miss Winnie was fat and coarse, with high cheek bones, +large hands and feet, freckled skin, and red hair; she +certainly did not pretend to be the beauty of the family. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jacky, the "Baby," as they still called her, was +considered the "beauty." +</p> + +<p> +A small figure, with a profusion of light flaxy hair, +tortured into curling, light complexion, with high color, +unmeaning china-blue eyes, and pursed-up little mouth, +distinguished her from her sisters. +</p> + +<p> +They were all bent upon Baby's making a great match; +therefore, all the finery of the past generation, that +remained in the old family chest, was kept especially for her. +A heavy crimson brocade for winter, that stood alone, was +made up with low neck and short sleeves; and in summer, +one light pink taffeta was likewise remodelled. One wreath +of roses for her hair, one string of pearls for the neck, with +ear-rings to match, one pair of soiled kid gloves for the +hands, and one pair of narrow pointed slippers, made up +Baby's wardrobe, and this she had worn on her visits to +Graham Hall, and Douglass Manor, ever since she was +eighteen; and now, alas! Baby was thirty. +</p> + +<p> +She had sung the same songs, danced the same Scotch +reels, said the same pretty silly things; charming only to +her family, and yet Baby was not married. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Peter had long thought that a seat at the head of the +table at Graham Hall, would be the very thing for Baby, +but unfortunately, the master did not concur in sentiment. +</p> + +<p> +"Annot, my dear, come sit by me," said the sweet young +lady, for she knew that Malcolm dearly loved his little +niece. Baby was devoted in her attentions to the child, +but it all seemed lost upon Malcolm, who was busily engaged +in talking to Sir Peter about the cattle and the sheep +during the late snow storm. "I lost ten o' my best sheep, +Mr. Graham," remarked the old man. +</p> + +<p> +"I did na lose ane, Sir Peter," was the answer, and +Malcolm dropped many hints which might have been +useful, if the old man had not been too indolent to profit +by them. +</p> + +<p> +The politeness of the household was much taxed by their +efforts to entertain their guests; for there were just four +subjects of conversation for the four ladies. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Catherine discussed household economy; Miss +Juliana, her visit to Edinburgh, twenty years ago, an +unfailing subject; Miss Winnie, her pet lap-dog, with all his +wonderful tricks; and Baby, "The Children of the Abbey," +and the "Sorrows of Werter." +</p> + +<p> +It was in vain that Mrs. Lindsay tried to divert the +channel of conversation to better things; back to the old +worn-out sayings and doings of their little world they would +come. +</p> + +<p> +All the ladies employed themselves in knitting while +they talked. Lady Catherine knit stockings for the +winter; Miss Juliana mitts innumerable; Miss Winnie, +tippets of all sizes; and Baby tidies and mats for parlor and +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Knit! knit! knit! talk! talk! talk! Truly a visit from +Kennicott Castle was a trial to Christian patience! And +then, the darling pets! Miss Juliana's pet cat fought with +the master's noble dog; Miss Winnie's lap-dog tried to tear +out the eyes of Annot's little kitten; and Baby's parrot +screamed night and day, "Polly wants Baby! Polly wants +Baby!" Then Miss Juliana's cat must have sweet milk +three times a day, and the most delicate pieces of meat cut +up very fine; Miss Winnie's lap-dog must be fed upon +cream; and Baby's parrot could open her cage-door, and +help herself to whatever she liked upon the table. This +was great fun to Baby, but disgusting to others, who could +not bear a dirty parrot walking over the dinner-plates. +Miss Juliana played two old marches, Miss Winnie two +old pieces, and Baby three songs exactly. +</p> + +<p> +They all attended punctually upon the family devotions, +and then Malcolm could pray that all who knelt around +that altar should set their affections upon things above, +and not on the vain and fleeting things of earth; their +frivolity pained him, and the good master tried many ways +to do them good. +</p> + +<p> +He talked to the ladies about schools for the poor +children, and about comforts for their parents. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear me!" said Miss Juliana, "Mr. Graham you would +na' expect us to stoop to these wild Highlanders; +why! they are na' mair than savages!" +</p> + +<p> +"And sae they will continue, my dear Madam," +("Madam!" Miss Juliana did not like that,) "if you will +na' step forward to their help; and in sic a lonesome place, +I should think it would be pleasant wark." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Mr. Graham, it would take twa hunters ilka +morn to catch the wild things; on the tops o' the highest +hills, down in the deepest glens, hidden amang the steep +rocks, we might as well try to tame the wild animals as +these rough, outlandish children o' the crags." +</p> + +<p> +"Try, Miss Juliana, gi' them something for the body, +and, after awhile, they will come to ye for something for +the mind." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Juliana yawned, "It is sae mickle work, Mr. Graham, +for a high-born lady; I could na' think of sic a +thing." +</p> + +<p> +For two weeks the visitors remained; but no visible +progress was made by Baby, and the party turned their faces +homeward. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye will return our visit soon, Mr. Graham; bring yer +young friend wi' ye; we canna promise mickle at Kennicott, +but we will mak' ye welcome." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank ye, Sir Peter, when we hae leisure, we will +accept your kind invitation." +</p> + +<p> +The old carriage was brought up, Sir Peter and Lady +Catherine comfortably seated, followed by Miss Juliana +and her cat, Tabby; Miss Winnie and her dog, Charley; +and Baby with her talking Poll, screaming, as she went, +"Poll wants Baby;" with sundry band-boxes and trunks, +filled with the old finery, to be packed away for future +occasions; while the ladies would now assume their tartan +plaid and woollen hose, until making another visitation. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lindsay gave one long, expressive breath; good +Uncle Malcolm smiled with a look of relief, and little +Annot clapped her hands as she hugged up her pet kitten, +and said, "Now, tittens! that horrid dog is gone, and ye +shall hae some peace o' your life." +</p> + +<p> +In a few days, Edmund arrived, and received a hearty +welcome from the master of Graham Hall. Soon domesticated, +he revelled in the comforts of the hospitable mansion; +and day after day, seated by the blazing fire of the +family-room, he would rub his hands with delight, exclaiming, +</p> + +<p> +"This is living, Roland! How shall I ever content myself +in that Babel of a city after these grand mountains, +these noble trees, this free life out-of-doors, and this +glowing, warm-hearted hospitality within!" +</p> + +<p> +"It is a charming home, indeed!" was Roland's reply, +"the very perfection of that sweet word; though so cold +without, one feels all the time here in the midst of a warm +glow of Christian love, and hearty welcome."' +</p> + +<p> +"What a charming piece of simplicity is that dear little +Annot, Roland! So fresh! so naive! After the glitter of +New York belles, she is really captivating; and then her +music—why, she warbles sweetly as a mavis." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled as he replied, "Where is Miss Hamilton, +Edmund?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, she is out of my reach! a bright divinity that I may +worship in the distance! But this little Scotch mountain +girl! innocent child that she is, charms me daily more and +more, with her winning ways, and her sweet, loving +eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"Take care, Edmund, how you allow yourself to become +enchanted; for you may never see Scotland again." +</p> + +<p> +"That is not so certain, my dear sir, for I have had a +taste of Highland life that I shall never forget; and this +sweet face I must see again." +</p> + +<p> +Roland found that he must seek out his aunt; therefore, +in a day or two, Uncle Malcolm and he sat out for Douglass +Manor, leaving Edmund behind to seek his own pleasures. +It was a long two-storied stone mansion, that had +long been in the family, and therefore dignified by the +name of "The Manor." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Graham inquired for the mistress; asked into the +parlor, they awaited her arrival. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes, a tall lady, with pleasing aspect, and +dignified address, entered the parlor. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye are welcome, Mr. Graham; it is a long time syne I +hae had this honor." +</p> + +<p> +"I cam' to introduce a family connexion, Mrs. Douglass." +</p> + +<p> +The lady looked earnestly at Roland, a change passed +over her countenance, as she advanced towards the young +man, and taking his hand, she said,— +</p> + +<p> +"I dinna ken what to think, but surely ye are vera like +my brother Stephen, lost so lang ago." +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm had left the room. +</p> + +<p> +"I am Roland Bruce, your brother's son, Aunt Douglass; +you are the first relative that I have met in Scotland." +</p> + +<p> +She grasped his hand, and drawing him to her, kissed +him affectionately. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear nephew! This is joyful indeed! Nane o' +my kindred hae I left on earth, but yoursel'!" +</p> + +<p> +Roland then related his story to his aunt; she was deeply +moved; as soon as he mentioned the name of Elsie Gibson, +she exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +"Is it possible that Elsie is in America? We missed +her years ago, but nane could tell whate'er became o' +her." +</p> + +<p> +"What relation does she bear to us?" inquired Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, she luved your father dearly, an' had he +married her, he wud hae been a happier mon; but he was +aye like one crazed on the subject o' Mary Gordon." +</p> + +<p> +"My mother made him a good wife, Aunt Douglass; she +was most faithful and devoted." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland, I ken a' that to be true; but her heart +was na wi' her husband." +</p> + +<p> +"It was with no one else, Aunt Douglass; I wish that +you could have known my dear mother." +</p> + +<p> +At the end of their interview, Mrs. Douglass was +convinced that her brother was yet alive. +</p> + +<p> +"I will gae wi' ye, Roland, when ye return to America; +I maun find my brother, for our property is yet unsettled, +although my father has been dead these four years; ye +maun stay wi' me, Roland, it is sic a pleasure to see a +branch o' my ain hoose," and Aunt Douglass affectionately +laid her hand upon the young man's shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Looking aloft!" thought Roland, "how many of my +prayers and hopes have been fulfilled! I will never +distrust a gracious God, so true to all his promises." +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm left Roland with the promise to come once more +to Graham Hall ere he left the country. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass busied herself in preparing all the +documents necessary ere she left Scotland, and after having +shown her nephew all that was interesting around the +Manor, she started, with her nephew for Malcolm's home. +</p> + +<p> +"Would it not be better, Uncle Malcolm, to settle my +mother's estate before I leave Scotland? I should like to +dispose of it, for my future home will be in America." +</p> + +<p> +"I will attend to all that, Roland; I have taken charge +o' a' ever syne the death o' your kindred; indeed, it is sold +already." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Malcolm did not then tell Roland that he was +himself the purchaser, and had given a higher price than any +stranger would have done. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time, all was arranged; Roland received a handsome +price, and old Jennie Scott was sorely distressed at the +thought of a stranger in the old manse. +</p> + +<p> +"Dinna trouble yourself, Jennie," was Malcolm's word +of comfort; "it will be the manse still, a guid minister +shall abide there, and Jennie shall be the woman o' a' wark +there yet." +</p> + +<p> +She kissed Malcolm's hand,—"Ye're a guid an' faithfu' +mon, Mr. Graham, an' God will bless ye evermair." +</p> + +<p> +The time of parting had arrived—Roland was grieved to +leave the dear shelter of Graham Hall, for it was indeed to +him a home, and its master a kind and generous father. +Mrs. Lindsay, too, had been like a dear mother, and little +Annot clung around him, and cried at parting with "dear +Cousin Roland." +</p> + +<p> +Edmund could not leave the dear home-circle of +Graham Hall without deep regret; and as he bade a +sorrowful farewell to artless Annot Lindsay, and held her +little hand fondly within his own, he whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"I shall come again, Annot, and then we shall have the +pleasant walks and rides once more." +</p> + +<p> +She dropped her sweet eyes on the ground, then raising +them to Edmund's face, swimming in tears, she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"I shall miss ye, Mr. Norris, so vera, vera much; but +ye'll come again, an' I'll learn so mony new songs just for +ye, an' nane ither." +</p> + +<p> +Annot stood at the window looking at the carriage as it +turned away; and ere it vanished out of sight, a familiar +face smiled at her from the back of the carriage, and a +hand waved a last farewell, that she knew was Edmund's. +</p> + +<p> +Soon in London, Malcolm took lodgings for himself, +Mrs. Douglass, and his young friends; and many pleasant +visits did they pay together among the homes of the +destitute; and many useful hints were given by the wise and +faithful friend to Roland and Edmund. Riding out one +day, Mr. Graham perceived a carriage passing close by +their side. It contained two ladies, one remarkable for +her beauty. She looked startled, blushed, smiled, waved her +hand, and was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was deeply agitated, +</p> + +<p> +"Who was that, Roland?" inquired his friend. +</p> + +<p> +"That was Madeline Hamilton, Uncle Malcolm," and +Roland dropped his eyes beneath the earnest look of his +friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye never told me that she was in London, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +"No, Uncle Malcolm, I did not." +</p> + +<p> +"And why, my son, may I ask?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am not on terms of intimacy with Miss Hamilton now." +</p> + +<p> +"How is that, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"She does not belong to my world, Uncle Malcolm; so +her relatives think." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Malcolm bit his lip, as he replied slowly, +</p> + +<p> +"Does Madeline think sae, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think not; she is simple-hearted, truthful as a child, +above all that is sordid, or worldly; but they may spoil her +here in London." +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm read at once the whole of Roland's secret. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye could keep up intercourse wi' Miss Hamilton if ye +please, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think I could, Uncle Malcolm; but I would not tempt +her from the path of duty." +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm Graham smiled, a bright and happy smile; +for in the future, he saw a path so high! so blessed for his +dear young protégé. "Looking aloft!" in the right sense +thought Malcolm, "and God will take care o' his interests, +for time and eternity." +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, my boy, trust in God; for he will make a' +things work together for your good. Seek first the kingdom +o' God and his righteousness, and a' these things shall +be added unto ye; all <i>these</i> things, Roland—whatever is for +your real good." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXIV. +<br><br> +WINGS CLIPPED THAT HAD COMMENCED TO SOAR. +</h3> + +<p> +Madeline is in a new atmosphere; silken fetters bind +her feet, and amid the novelty of scenes so different from +those at home, gradually the world acquires an ascendancy +over her young heart, which almost ceases to converse with +itself. +</p> + +<p> +Her journal has long been laid aside; but one very rainy +day she opens its pages, and contrasts her present state +with the past. Madeline is humbled; taking up her pen, +she resumes a record of past events and emotions. She +made her entries for only a few weeks after her arrival. +</p> + +<p> +"London, May 10th.—What a new world surrounds me! +Ah, so novel, so different from New York! I am in a +constant whirl of excitement, with scarcely time for thought. +We have brought letters of introduction from Mr. Leighton +and Mr. Trevor to the American minister, which bring us +at once within the pale of London life among the haut-ton. +Aunt Matilda is delighted; quite in her element; papa +pleased because we are, but he looks very pale and languid. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday was the great day; I was presented to the +Queen by the American minister. I wanted to see Queen +Victoria, because she is a rare example of a good wife and +mother in a royal circle. It was a magnificent scene; +such a crowd of well-developed, rosy young ladies; such +splendid dressing, high-breeding, and courtly grace, I have +never before seen! I understand now something about +the rich glow of English beauty; but the Queen interested +me most. She is not handsome, but there was a benevolent +glow upon her face when she addressed me personally, +and said some kind things about my country. I could have +kissed her hand, but I suppose that would not have been +courtly etiquette, and so I had to content myself with +performing the difficult ceremony of bowing out backwards; I +did not fall, and that is all I can say about the manner. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"I am busy in returning calls, visiting dress-makers, +&c., for we are invited to a ball at the Duke of D——'s. +I wonder if I ought to go, and leave papa; Aunt Matilda +insists, and papa wishes it; it will take place next week. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Well! I have been to the grand ball; a great crowd, +magnificent rooms, superb dressing, a train of admirers, +scarcely room to dance, but unable to accept all the +invitations; introduced to the Earl of N——, a refined and +courtly English nobleman; his wife, the Countess, is +peculiarly pleasing; and his daughter, the Lady Alice, +charming; a sweet, artless English girl, just making her first +appearance in gay life. I don't believe that she relishes it +much. Lord N——, the son, is the most pleasing gentleman +that I have yet met in London; modest, unassuming, +gentlemanly, and intelligent, and sufficiently good-looking +to captivate the majority of young ladies. His attentions +are acceptable, because they are so perfectly respectful, so +unobtrusive. +</p> + +<p> +"This family pleases me more than any I have seen; +they must be among the best specimens of English nobility. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda is so intoxicated, by moving among +nobles, that I cannot help laughing; and I fear that she +will make the impression that she is really not accustomed +to good society; there is so much fuss and folly about her +movements. I ought not to write this of Aunt Matilda, for +she is so good and kind to me; only too anxious about the +number of conquests, and I shrewdly suspect that she is +meditating one herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Dined yesterday at the Earl of N——'s, in company +with papa and Aunt Matilda; quite a family dinner, as +dear papa avoids much company. I think it is a Christian +family, for the good earl asked a blessing at the table so +reverently. It is the perfection of a refined household; all +so easy, so quiet, and in such exquisite taste; and the +conversation was so improving; no frivolity, but a high-toned +intelligence, that made it really a privilege to be one of the +party. I find that they do not mingle much with the gay +world, but as pilgrims and strangers, they are 'in the +world, but not of the world.' I am thankful that we have +made such an acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +"After dinner, Lady Alice led the way to the drawing-room, +and, in company with her brother, entertained us +with some delightful music, and showed us some very fine +engravings of English scenery. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been to an English opera; the music was fine, +the company brilliant, and the scene altogether fascinating. +In the course of the evening the Queen of England +entered; when the whole audience arose, and the orchestra +played with great spirit 'God save the Queen.' Her +Majesty acknowledged the compliment by a gracious bow, +and a warm, benevolent smile; no wonder that her +subjects love her so truly. These late hours are killing to +devotion; I come home so tired, that my prayers are +lifeless and formal. I wonder if papa is lonely when I am +away; he says not, for he is very fond of reading. I think +that he reads the Bible habitually now. When I ask him +anything about himself he smiles, and says that 'he will +be better soon.' +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Alice is very kind; their carriage is always at +our disposal; she has taken us to Westminster Abbey, +St. Paul's, the Parks, the Zoological Gardens, the British +Museum, and the Picture Galleries; I could spend days at the +latter. +</p> + +<p> +"My good aunt has taken great pains to let it be known +that we are really related to the Duke of Hamilton; +poh! poh! that is so foolish! We are truly altogether American, +and what care we for noble birth! +</p> + +<p> +"Last Sunday, in company with Lady Alice, I visited +one of the Ragged Schools in M—— Lane. I had no +conception before of the place. A very large room, crowded +with children; some clad in rags and filth, others were +civilized; but there was a look of sensuality among them +that was so revolting. It was a pleasant sight to see so +many of the higher classes, filled with the spirit of the +loving Master, seeking these degraded children. I was +surprised to see the Lady Alice take her seat so humbly +among a company of such rough, half-clad girls; and pleased +to see the look of grateful respect that rested upon the face +of more than one, as they listened to the instructions of +their gentle teacher. +</p> + +<p> +"'Do you teach here weekly, Lady Alice?' I asked as +soon as she had done. 'That is my privilege, Miss +Hamilton, when I am in London,' was the modest reply. +</p> + +<p> +"'Could you not find a position among some not quite +so degraded?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Yes; but then so few comparatively are willing to +come here; and then you know, Miss Hamilton, that our +Master did not scorn the lowest sinner.' +</p> + +<p> +"I was silent, for Lady Alice had set me to thinking. +</p> + +<p> +"Suddenly, I was surprised by the sight of a familiar +form; at first, only the back; but I could not be +mistaken—he turned, and it was indeed Roland Bruce! How did +he ever come here? +</p> + +<p> +"He advanced, and extended his warm, strong hand; +the touch was magnetic—how it revived the dear old days +around Woodcliff! How strong it seemed! Just like +the staff of my childhood; not only the staff, but the +sceptre to which I willingly bowed. He inquired how I +came here, and I told him. +</p> + +<p> +"'Did I not promise you that I would visit such places?' +</p> + +<p> +"He looked so pleased, and then told me why he was +in England, and that he expected, ere he returned, to visit +Scotland. +</p> + +<p> +"The earl's family attend the church under the ministry +of the Rev. Mr. B——, not for its grandeur, but purely for +the simple evangelical preaching of its earnest pastor; but +my aunt goes with the Duke of D—— to a more fashionable +church, where the elite attend, but where there is little +but the form of piety. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a great privilege to attend upon such a ministry +as Mr. B——'s, for it draws my thoughts away from earth. +</p> + +<p> +The earl's family are all members of the Church of +England. Last Sunday, all four partook of the communion. I +felt so lonely, so conscience-stricken when they all arose +and left me in the pew. After church, Lord N—— said to +me with such real concern upon his fine face— +</p> + +<p> +"'I am sorry, Miss Hamilton, to find that you are not +a follower of the Redeemer; why is it so?' +</p> + +<p> +"I could not answer for one minute, but at last replied— +</p> + +<p> +"'I ought to be, I know; but I am so unworthy, so +worldly!' +</p> + +<p> +"'So am I unworthy, Miss Hamilton; but Jesus is all +my righteousness. I cannot bear to see you, one so'—and +he stopped; 'I cannot bear to see you any thing but a +Christian.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Thank you, Lord N——; how is it that, surrounded +by so much to draw the heart from God, your family are +all so different from the rest of the world?' +</p> + +<p> +"'In the world, but not of the world, Miss Hamilton, +is my answer; and all the difference consists in this—that +by the grace of God only, we are what you see.' +</p> + +<p> +"What a lovely specimen of piety in high life is here! +'Tis true, that not many of the great ones of the earth are +called to be children of the kingdom; but there are some. +</p> + +<p> +"Lord N——'s remark has led me back to the days of +former seriousness. Am I grieving the Spirit of God by +my worldliness? 'Ye cannot serve God and mammon' is +the Saviour's teaching; may I feel its power. +</p> + +<p> +"The earl's family are going down to Parkhurst Manor, +their country-seat, and have invited us to accompany them. +Aunt Matilda would rather stay amid the dissipation of +London life; but I am weary of it, and so glad to go into +the country; and then it will be better for papa, dear +papa! I wonder if he is any better. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Parkhurst Manor.—What a charming home! The +entrance to the mansion is through a splendid park of trees +of ancient growth, and the grounds most beautifully kept; +the smooth green grass, the branching elms meeting over +the avenue which leads to the house, forming such a cool, +green arbor; the sporting deer meeting us everywhere, +some looking at us with a startled look in their soft, brown +eyes, and others so docile that they walked close by the +side of the carriage; but the smile of the honest gatekeeper +at the Lodge was the best welcome, as he opened the gate, +taking off his hat, and saying— +</p> + +<p> +"'You are welcome back to the manor, my Lord.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Thank you, James; I hope you are all well at the +Lodge.' +</p> + +<p> +"In another minute, two rosy little girls ran across the +road, and, dropping a courtesy before the carriage, said— +</p> + +<p> +"'Welcome back, my Lady, we are so glad to see you; +is Lady Alice there?' +</p> + +<p> +"The young lady smiled upon the little things, and +replied— +</p> + +<p> +"'Come up to the Hall to-morrow, I have something for +you, my little girls,' and the carriage drove on. +</p> + +<p> +"The house is a large and elegant mansion; I scarcely +know of what style of architecture, but much of it is ancient; +the wings are of more modern style, the windows all opening +out on to the lawn. From the second story, verandahs +surround the mansion, filled with most rare and exquisite +flowers. The grounds are laid out with the utmost taste +in winding paths; at the back of the house is a calm lake, +on which float a number of graceful swans; pavilions, +rustic seats, and rural bridges over several small streams +which flow through the grounds, and shrubbery of the +choicest kind adorn the walks; in fine, nothing is wanting +to make this another Eden of delight. I revelled in the +sights and sounds around me with inexpressible pleasure; +but the sweetest sight of all was the meeting between the +parents and their dear children, who came running to greet +them; two sons, the one nineteen, the other seventeen, +with two younger girls, so artless! so simple hearted! +</p> + +<p> +"'Dear papa! dear mamma! you have come at last! +Now, it is dear old Parkhurst! You have come to stay, +have you not, mamma?' and the little Ladies Julia and +Mary seized their dear mother's hands, as if afraid that she +would run away again. Sweet, precious picture of domestic +bliss! +</p> + +<p> +"The children were not in the habit of sitting at the +table; but this was a holiday, and all assembled that +evening around the family board, as a great treat, in company +with their tutor. +</p> + +<p> +"But, although brimful of joy, the little girls knew how +to be quiet, and contented themselves with looking at their +beloved parents and dear brother and sister; and the young +men joined very modestly, but seldom, in the general +conversation. I sat near the little girls, and once I heard +them whisper to each other about the books which mamma +had promised, and the dolls from Lady Alice. +</p> + +<p> +"The countess glanced kindly, but reprovingly, at the +children, as she said— +</p> + +<p> +"'My little girls are forgetting mamma's rules at the +table; there must be no whispering.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Excuse us, dear mamma,' replied the Lady Julia, 'we +were wondering about the books and dolls.' +</p> + +<p> +"After supper, a bell summoned us to evening worship +in the chapel, whither the countess led the way, and the +tutor, who is a young clergyman, conducted the devotions, +while Lady Alice presided at the organ. Thanks for the +return of the parents were included in the service, and, at +the close, the dear children were dismissed with a loving +kiss from both parents. +</p> + +<p> +"Happy household! trained thus from infancy for Heaven, +what a calm and holy atmosphere prevails everywhere +at Parkhurst! The echoes of sweet Sabbath chimes ever +softly ringing, and sanctifying the simpler acts of its daily +life. I am so glad to be here; such a contrast to many of +the gay and worldly families of London, where all seem +bent upon ignoring entirely their immortality. +</p> + +<p> +"The next morning after our arrival, the family carriage +and three fine horses were drawn up before the door. +</p> + +<p> +"'We want to show you some of the beauties around +Parkhurst,' said the earl, 'and concluded that the young +people would prefer the saddle. I presume that you ride, +Miss Hamilton; we English people are famous riders.' +</p> + +<p> +"Lord N——, Lady Alice, and I mounted; papa and +Aunt Matilda occupied the landau with the earl and +countess. We had a most delightful excursion among the green +lanes of 'old England,' breathing the cool morning air. It +is, indeed, a garden of sweets; the high cultivation everywhere, +the country residences, the rural cottages, all with +their flowers and trees, and the reverence with which the +family of the earl was everywhere greeted, made this ride +highly gratifying. I find a most regular, systematic household, +the heads of the family each having especial hours of +retirement; the children their periods of study, recreation, +and out-door exercise. After morning worship, the family +scattered to their several avocations. +</p> + +<p> +"'You are at home, Miss Hamilton,' said Lady Alice, +leading the way to the library; 'I read two hours daily, +a course laid down by my former tutor, and I presume that +you would like to do the same. Mamma visits the school-room +daily, and makes inquiries of the tutor about the +children, but she does not interfere; she has one in whom +she places perfect confidence, and she aids, not thwarts, his +plans for their improvement; the exercises of the school-room +are no more disturbed than if they were all away at +school. Mamma is too sensible for that.' +</p> + +<p> +"We chose our books, took our seats at separate tables, +and enjoyed two delightfully private hours—'tis true that +Lord N—— knocked at the door, and just peeped in once. +</p> + +<p> +"'No admission, brother,' said the Lady Alice, with an +arch smile; 'we are very busy now; you know that we +all read at this hour; go get your books, like a good boy,' +and springing from her seat, she opened the door wide, +threw her arms around her brother's neck, and kissed him, +saying, 'now go, Alfred.' +</p> + +<p> +"'This is the way she rules me, Miss Hamilton; I dare +not disobey my precise little sister; so adieu, ladies!' +</p> + +<p> +"Two hours at the piano closed the studies of the Lady +Alice. I observed a harp in the drawing-room, and while +she was occupied in the music-room, I took advantage of +the time, to refresh my almost forgotten pieces. I had +brought some new music with me, and was glad to find +that I had so much leisure. +</p> + +<p> +"'I suppose that I may venture to intrude,' said Lord +N——, at the close of my practice; and another hour was +spent in entertaining my young host, who is a passionate +lover of music, and who accompanied me with the flute. +</p> + +<p> +"Out on the verandah, Lady Alice observed, 'There come +my little girls from the Lodge,' and running to her room, +she brought out several books, and a new dress for each. +Little Mary and Bessie Bond were modest children, and as +they dropped a courtesy to their young lady, she handed +them the gifts which she had brought. +</p> + +<p> +"'Thank you, Lady Alice, you are very good,' said the +elder. +</p> + +<p> +"Dinner at five, where a select number of friends joined +our party. The breakfast costume is simple lawn or +muslin wrappers, with a pretty cap for the countess; but +the dress for dinner was more elegant—rich silk dresses, +with low neck and short sleeves, hair handsomely arranged, +with rich head-dresses for the elder ladies, simpler for the +young, and a moderate addition of fine jewelry. +</p> + +<p> +"There was much more ceremony at this meal, though +nothing was oppressive; it was felt to be the etiquette of +high-bred English life. The conversation was general, +improving, entertaining; personalities were strictly avoided, +and it was evident that the earl had gathered around him +a party of pleasing, intelligent, refined English people; +even two or three frivolous young ladies were held in check +by the general tone of sentiment. +</p> + +<p> +"We walked in the Park after dinner, and the game-keeper +amused us highly by a summons to his feathered charge. +Making a certain call, in a moment crowds of rooks were +seen emerging from their own domicile, which was quite a +large building for birds only. They clustered around him, +on his head, his shoulders, his hands, and wherever they +could obtain a footing, while crowds congregated around +his feet, making their own peculiarly coarse, unpleasant +cawing; indeed, there seemed to be quite a familiar intimacy +between him and his dark-feathered favorites. +</p> + +<p> +"At another call, the deer came bounding towards him; +it was such a pretty picture of the power of kindness over +the dumb creation; it pleased me especially, for I do so +love the world of animals. I found that I might pat the +gentle fawns, and by a few kind words draw them towards +me, rubbing their pretty heads against my hands, and +looking up in my face with their confiding, soft brown eyes. +I thought of the time when 'the wolf also shall dwell with +the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and +the calf and the young lion, and the fatling together; and +a little child shall lead them.' Happy period of millennial +blessedness! for then the fiercest will have parted with +their savage nature. This day was a pretty general picture +of the daily life at Parkhurst Manor—so domestic! so +purifying! so elevating! Then the sweet worship of the +chapel! By what holy ties does this family seem bound +together! thus privileged to worship God as one family. +It has its soothing effect upon my spirit—everything here +draws one upward, even surrounded as we are by wealth +and elegance. God is in all, and over all. This is the +perfection of human life. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday was Sunday at Parkhurst—what a holy day! +The children take their meals with us on that day. No late +hours on that sacred morning—so quiet, so refreshing was +the sweet early morning hour! +</p> + +<p> +"The earl paused after the blessing was asked— +</p> + +<p> +"'Now, my children, for our texts.' The father and +mother reverently repeated theirs; Lord N——, and Lady +Alice followed, then each of the children repeated seriously +the Sunday text. It was a touching lesson; this reverence +for God's holy word! This was practical obedience to the +command which says, +</p> + +<p> +"'And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, +and shall talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and +when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, +and when thou risest up.' +</p> + +<p> +"As I listened, I could easily understand how much they +must learn in a whole year. +</p> + +<p> +"'Our children are very anxious to remember all these +texts, Miss Hamilton,' said the earl; 'they also learn a +daily text with their instructors, and once a month repeat +all to me; all who remember them perfectly, are rewarded +with a handsome book; you have no idea how their library +grows in this way, and what a stock of Scripture knowledge +they obtain.' +</p> + +<p> +"Soon upon the quiet Sabbath air, stole the sweet chimes +of the village-bells; and when we started, in every direction +might be seen the villagers in their best attire, crowding +to the house of God. It was a pleasant picture to see +the dear children of the Manor in their simple white dresses, +straw-hats, and white ribbon, with the daintiest little +rosebuds for face trimmings; and the lowly, gentle reverence +with which they all joined in the service of the Church +of England, did touch my heart so deeply. Then so +many of the earl's tenants were there, and all his domestics +excepting such as were positively necessary at home, +who took their turn at the afternoon-service. The services +were delightful in that quiet country church, and the sermon +earnest, faithful, Christlike. After church, the family +of the earl remained a short time; many of the parishioners +received his friendly greetings, and the kind salutations +of the good countess; but it was not for this that +they remained. The earl took my hand, and led me to +that part of the church where a marble slab pointed out +the final resting-place of the earl's family. +</p> + +<p> +"Among other inscriptions, I read: 'Sacred to the memory +of Augusta, eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess +of N——, aged eighteen—Asleep in Jesus.' +</p> + +<p> +"The parents stood awhile in silence by the vault; the +mother wiped a silent tear, and the earl, turning to me +said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'My dear Miss Hamilton, I brought you here to impress +the lessons of mortality; there is much around you, my +dear young lady, to draw your thoughts to earth; but here +you see the young, the gifted, the rich, the beautiful must +lie down at last in the silent grave; let this moderate your +estimate of the things of time and sense, and teach you +to set your young affections chiefly on things above. The +dear one who lies there had early learned the lesson; she +was a Christian, she died in the Lord, and we shall meet +her again.' +</p> + +<p> +"We turned away; I can never forget that impressive +lesson. We returned with serious thoughts to the carriage, +and I felt 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.' +</p> + +<p> +"The conversation at dinner turned upon the subject of +the sermon; it was cheerful, subdued, befitting the sacred +day. No Sunday rides, no Sunday visiting, but all breathed +of holiness and heaven. +</p> + +<p> +"After dinner, we all assembled in the drawing-room, +and before evening worship, all joined in singing hymns, +and other sacred music. +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Alice played, Lord N—— accompanied with the +flute; and all, old and young, father, mother, tutor, +governess, and children joined in the sweet hymns. +</p> + +<p> +"As we sang, I thought—what memories are here for +these dear children! Even though they may lose these +precious parents—will they not follow them always 'to +keep their souls from blight?' +</p> + +<p> +"Sweet Christian Sabbath! I never spent such before. +</p> + +<p> +"It had added another step to the family-ladder, and +hung another link to the golden chain; by one mounting +upward, and by the other united, to the family of the +redeemed in Heaven. Its holy chants, heavenly hymns, and +solemn prayer seem here to go with us through the cares +and trials of the Mondays and Tuesdays of this mortal +state; until blotting out all earthly days, the earthly and +heavenly Sabbath glideth into one—one eternal day of +holy rest. +</p> + +<p> +"And thus it seems at Parkhurst—the spirit of the +Sabbath is with us all the week. +</p> + +<p> +"On Monday, I observed an unusual number of persons +coming up the avenue, generally of the poorer classes. +</p> + +<p> +"Curiosity led me to ask Lady Alice, 'What brings so +many to-day.' 'If you will come with me, I will show +you, Miss Hamilton,' and she led me to her mother's small +room, where, seated at a table, she seemed awaiting her +visitors. +</p> + +<p> +"On the table stood a writing-desk, and by her side a +pocket-book, evidently containing money. +</p> + +<p> +"'Sit down, Miss Hamilton,' said the countess. +</p> + +<p> +"Each one had her tale to tell, of sorrow, difficulty, or +poverty. The countess listened patiently, kindly to all, +gave judicious Christian advice, and bestowed upon a +certain number her weekly allowance for the aged, the sick, +the struggling with life's cares and toils. +</p> + +<p> +"I could not describe the deep respect which I felt for +this lady in high rank, so surrounded by temptations to +selfishness; turning aside so humbly, so gently, to listen +to the tales of sorrow and privation, from the humble +poor. They evidently regarded her as a superior being, and +I could but say 'What has grace wrought!' +</p> + +<p> +"Upon inquiry, I find that this is the habit of the +countess, on every Monday morning, to meet the women of the +neighborhood, while her husband appoints another day to +meet the men for the same purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"What an influence must this exert for good! I find that +even the children have their Saving Fund from which to +draw for their charities; for during the interview, Lady +Julia entered modestly, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"'Dear mamma, here is our money for the little girls,' +and the good countess smiled upon her daughter, as she +replied, +</p> + +<p> +"'Mrs. McBride and Mrs. Rhyle want Sunday dresses +for their little girls, that they may go to Sunday-school, and +this is just enough, Julia.' +</p> + +<p> +"The child looked very happy as she tripped away, and +Mrs. Rhyle said, 'What a sweet young lady she is!' +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday, the good pastor dined with us; the conversation +was all about plans for good among the people; and +it could scarcely be seen which was most interested, the +good pastor, or the noble earl, in their benevolent schemes. +</p> + +<p> +"The wife was an interesting English lady, and much +of the side talk between the mothers, was about the dear +children of the Parsonage; for the good countess loved the +gentle wife of the humble pastor, and knew that this was +the subject that pleased her most. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"I have such a pleasant room adjoining the Lady Alice, +both opening to a verandah, where we spend much of our +time among the flowers. My room is daily supplied with +the most exquisite, which Betty, my English maid, brings +every morning, with 'the compliments of Lord N——.' She +always seems amused; but it is just politeness, and as +such, I receive them. +</p> + +<p> +"But lately, I have been a little disturbed; Lady Alice +sometimes throws out gentle hints, and Lord N—— is more +than polite, I fear; I should be so sorry, for I do esteem +him so highly. +</p> + +<p> +"This morning he was passing under the verandah; +looking up, he said, smiling, 'May I join you, sister?' and +receiving permission, he came up through a back staircase, +and joined us on the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +"'You look very much like Flora, Miss Hamilton, among +these flowers; they are so bright, and you so much like +their queen.' +</p> + +<p> +"This was the first direct compliment that Lord N—— +ever paid me, and I know that I blushed. I did not reply, +for I am awkward at answering compliments. I simply +turned the subject, but he selected a moss rose-bud. +</p> + +<p> +"'Will you wear my flower, Miss Hamilton?' he whispered, +in a lower tone. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew not what to say. +</p> + +<p> +"'With pleasure,' was my reply, 'if you will give the +same to Lady Alice.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Then you will seem like <i>sisters</i>; thank you, Miss Hamilton.' +</p> + +<p> +"I had not perceived the use that he might make of my +answer, and I was therefore silent. +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Alice was greatly pleased when she placed her +bouquet in the bosom of her dress; I was rather annoyed +when I looked at mine—she whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"'Would, dear Madeline, that it were so.' +</p> + +<p> +"I must be circumspect; not for worlds would I wound +the hearts of these dear friends. +</p> + +<p> +"They are dear as valued friends, for they have been a +great blessing to me; I must pay them with truth and +candor; and yet this passing fancy of mine may only be +the result of personal vanity; I will banish the whole from +my memory, ashamed that it ever entered my foolish brain. +Aunt Matilda does annoy me, she says so many silly things +when I am alone with her; if she continues to talk so about +Lord N——, it will destroy all our friendly intercourse, and +I shall have to go back to London. I am so afraid that she +will make her fancies plain to the family, and that would +be more than I could endure. +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday we had company to dinner; the conversation +turned upon England and America. One gentleman was +evidently prejudiced, and spoke disparagingly of our country. +I felt the blood rise to my face, for he did not speak +the truth. The good earl came to the rescue. +</p> + +<p> +"'Have you ever been in America, Sir Edward, or met +many of its people?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I have not,' was the reply, with some embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +"'Then, I think, sir, that you should withhold your +judgment with regard to our American cousins; some of the +most intelligent, frank, and gentlemanly persons that I +have ever met, have come from that country.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I have read travels, my lord, and have received my +impressions from such writers as Dickens, Mrs. Trollope, +&c.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Indeed, Sir Edward, I never was more heartily ashamed +than when I read Dickens's book; after receiving so many +hospitalities, to return them with such prejudiced accounts +of his sojourn,—I for one do not believe them; I have met +some of the American clergy, and authors, and other +distinguished men, and, as a true and loyal Englishman, I can +say that I have never met more refinement, intelligence, or +sterling worth, than among the Americans.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Thank you, my lord,' I replied, for I could no longer +keep silent; 'it has always seemed so strange that there +should be any rivalries between us, for are we not the +same people? the same language, the same descent, and +the same religious faith? For my part, I am willing to +acknowledge the great debt we owe to England. From +her, we have our finest authors, the very gems of literature; +from her, the noblest specimens of philanthropy and +genius; and from her, our Christian faith, and the very +formulas in which we worship God.' I blushed, and drew +back, for I had not been aware how long a speech I was +making, until I saw the look of approbation in the earl's +countenance, and the warm glow upon Lord N——'s. +</p> + +<p> +"'These are noble sentiments, Miss Hamilton,' said the +good earl. 'I was always sorry for the obstinacy of George +the Third; for through him we lost those colonies which +are now merged into so great a nation.' +</p> + +<p> +"'But perhaps,' remarked my father, 'we might not have +been what we are, if we were still under monarchical rule; +our free institutions have spurred on enterprise of every +kind, and started us as a nation far ahead in many things.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I am a true, staunch Englishman,' replied the earl, +'and am not willing to own that anything can be better +than the mild and beneficent rule of our gracious Queen +Victoria, under the good constitution of old England. I +think you Americans are too fast, and are growing to be so +large, as almost to become unwieldy; this is what I fear +for America; her very freedom may be abused.' +</p> + +<p> +"'We are a driving people, my lord, fast in every way; +in enterprise, in business, in habits of living; in fine, I fear, +with you, too fast; too reckless in modes of making money; +and in many quarters I see signs of corruption, which must +bring upon us God's judgments; I fear, my lord, sometimes +for the future of my beloved country, for God rules among +the nations, as well as among individuals.' +</p> + +<p> +"'May God preserve America to be a bright example of a +fine, intelligent, and virtuous people,' said the good earl; +'and now, Mr. Hamilton, let me give you a toast— +</p> + +<p> +"'America, the stalwart child of Old England—may they +go side by side, in all that is good, and great, and glorious!' +</p> + +<p> +"And then my father responded, +</p> + +<p> +"'Queen Victoria, and the realm of Great Britain—may +she long be spared to bless her great dominions.' +</p> + +<p> +"Both toasts were drunk standing. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Edward sat rather silent for the rest of the meal, and +the good earl patted me kindly on the head in the +drawing-room, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"'Yours is a warm and noble heart, Miss Hamilton; may +it find its mate in good old England.' +</p> + +<p> +"What does the earl mean? I hope nothing with reference +to his son; I should be truly distressed. +</p> + +<p> +"Another bunch of flowers from Lord N——; they are very, +very sweet; but I laid them by the side of the old withered +sea-weed, and their charm was gone. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, Roland! do you cherish the little shoe and the +child's picture yet! +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"My father is worse, I see it daily; he is losing his spirits, +and the earl seems distressed. +</p> + +<p> +"Am I to lose my father, my dearest earthly tie? He +sent for me to-day to come to his room. He looked so sad, +sitting in his large easy chair. He took me on his lap, as +when I was wild little Mad-cap. 'Madeline, my daughter, +I sent for you, because I have much to say. I am not so +well, my child; indeed, the signs in my case warn me that +I have not much longer to live. I have arranged everything +for you; you are left independent, with none to +trammel you, and the power to choose your own guardian. +I can trust you, Madeline, in all things; I could have +wished to leave you under the care of a wise and faithful +companion, worthy of my daughter; but that is a subject +in which I shall not bind you; you are free to choose there +wholly for yourself. I shall not live, Madeline, to cross the +ocean.' O, how my heart sank! I bowed my head on his +dear shoulder, and wept convulsively. 'Do not speak so, +dear papa, I cannot bear it,' was my answer. +</p> + +<p> +"He smoothed my hair, impressed warm kisses on my +cheek, and soothed my troubled spirit with kind and loving +words. 'And now, Madeline, with regard to higher subjects, +I would say that my residence in this holy family has +not been in vain. I have long been in the habit of reading +the Scriptures; the good earl has manifested the deepest +interest in my spiritual welfare; he visits me every +evening in my room; and it is owing to his influence that I +have been led to consider the need of preparation for another +world. I have renounced all dependence upon my moral +life, and look only to the Blessed Saviour for salvation in +the world to come. It is my desire, Madeline, to testify +my faith in His atoning sacrifice next Sunday, in the +village church, at the table of our Lord; are you not ready, +my darling, to accompany me in the solemn act?' I could +not answer my father, for mingled feelings of joy and +sorrow filled my heart; floods of happiness at the humble +declaration of his faith, and unspeakable sorrow at the thought +of parting from one so beloved. I promised my dear parent +to think upon the subject, for I had lately longed for the +blessed privilege. +</p> + +<p> +"I sought the room of the countess, and confided to her +the subject of our conversation. +</p> + +<p> +"'Would you like to see our pastor, Miss Hamilton?' +was the kind suggestion, and the good lady sent for her +faithful guide. +</p> + +<p> +"He was so good, so gentle, so Christ-like that I could +easily tell him the whole history of my inner life. +</p> + +<p> +"'Are you resting <i>wholly</i>, my dear Miss Hamilton, upon +the merits of the Redeemer for salvation?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Wholly, entirely, my dear sir, from the bottom of my +heart I can say, "None but Jesus."' +</p> + +<p> +"'Are you willing to devote yourself, soul and body, to +your Master's service, my child?' +</p> + +<p> +"'That is my desire, and has long been the language of +my heart.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Then come, and welcome, to the table of the Lord, my +dear child; Jesus will not reject such as you.' +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Last Sunday, for the first time, by my father's side, I +bowed at the table of my Lord and Master; received the +emblems of His dying love, and promised to be His forever. +O, what a precious privilege! And then by the side of my +dear father. Now we are one in the most sacred of all +bonds. After church, the countess pressed a warm kiss +upon my cheek, and said, 'One in Jesus, dear Madeline;' +the Lady Alice pressed my hand in silence; and Lord +N—— looked so very happy. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless God for this sweet sanctuary of a Christian +home! My father says that we must go back to London; +and when we reach there he will tell me why, saying, +'Trust all to God, dear Madeline; whatever he wills is +right.' Aunt Matilda is pleased with the idea; for the +quiet of country life does not suit her. She is only sorry +at leaving Lord N——, but says that 'he will soon follow +us.' I wish that she would not talk such folly, nor such +nonsense about old Lord C——, who was really quite +devoted to aunty when in London." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap25"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXV. +<br><br> +PARTING FROM ENGLISH FRIENDS. +</h3> + +<p> +The noble park and green lanes of Parkhurst, with all its +elevating joys, were soon to be exchanged for private +lodgings in a crowded city; and Madeline's spirits sank as she +contemplated a return to London with her beloved parent; +for she could no longer blind herself to the fact that day by +day he was fading from her sight. +</p> + +<p> +Standing alone, on the evening before her departure on +the verandah, where she had spent so many happy hours, +she was indulging in mournful reveries; she should probably +see this beautiful park, this happy home, these charming +scenes no more. +</p> + +<p> +While musing thus, Lord N—— passed under the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +"May I come up, Miss Hamilton?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you wish, my Lord; I am alone, and would be glad +to see you." +</p> + +<p> +The step of the young man was not gay and joyous as +on other days, and Madeline perceived that he wore a +serious, saddened countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"You leave us, to-morrow, Miss Hamilton; may I ask a +place in your remembrance?" +</p> + +<p> +"I shall never forget the pleasant hours at Parkhurst, +Lord N——, or the dear friends that I have made in this +happy home." +</p> + +<p> +He was silent for one moment, and then with deeper +feeling said, +</p> + +<p> +"But may I not ask a particular place in your +remembrance, a nearer, dearer than a passing acquaintance, that +will be forgotten in a day?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do number you, my lord, among my most valued +friends; and I shall never forget you personally." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, Madeline! the memory will not be to you what it +will ever be to me—the one green spot in life, which I shall +cherish so fondly." +</p> + +<p> +She bowed her head, and was silent; for painful emotions +were stirring in her heart, and tears were crowding +beneath the drooping eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, we may not meet again; I cannot let you +leave us without asking, is there any hope that I may +obtain the rich love of your noble, fresh young heart?" +</p> + +<p> +She turned a frank look upon the young man, while her +eyes swam in tears, as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot deceive you, Lord N——; my deepest respect +and warmest friendship are yours, but my love I +cannot give." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Madeline? does another possess that which I +would make any earthly sacrifice to obtain?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is a delicate question, Lord N——; my hand is +free, but my heart has long been" (and she blushed as she +uttered the words) "interested in another. I never knew +until to-day how much, how deeply. This is a painful +confession, but due to you, my lord; for had it not been so, I +could not have been insensible to worth like yours." +</p> + +<p> +He bowed over the fair young hand extended in friendship, +and replied— +</p> + +<p> +"May you be happy, Madeline! happy in love as pure, +as devoted as mine. I will not say that my heart is +broken; that is the language of a silly, brainless man; nor +will I say that my hopes are crushed, for God our Father +rules on earth, as well as in Heaven, and his will is not +what I had hoped. I submit, I trust, with patience, and +by-and-bye, I doubt not, will see the reasons why I have +been disappointed in my first affection." +</p> + +<p> +"He will guide you, I doubt not, my lord, in all the +events of life; and one so benevolent, so useful, so noble +as you, cannot be unhappy; for there is too much in this +wicked world for Christians to do, to spend their lives in +vain regrets." +</p> + +<p> +"We are one in Christian hope, Madeline, and that is a +comfort; one in all schemes of good for our fellow-men." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you pray for me, Lord N——? Sore trials are +before me, and I need a Saviour's grace to sustain me in +what is surely coming." +</p> + +<p> +"You are before me morning and evening, Madeline; +and, though separated by the wide ocean, I shall remember +you whenever I bend the knee to my Father in Heaven." +</p> + +<p> +"We shall be friends, Lord N——," continued Madeline, +as she extended her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Madeline; after a while, true and faithful friends. +I shall rejoice when you are happy, and be sad when you +are afflicted." +</p> + +<p> +They were not aware of the passage of time until Lady +Alice was heard calling, "Madeline, where are you? Papa +and mamma sent me to look for you. Come to the +drawing-room, we must have some music to-night," and she ran +hastily up to the verandah, and drew away her young +friend, saying— +</p> + +<p> +"Brother, I think you are very selfish; we want Madeline +to-night, as it is her last evening at Parkhurst." +</p> + +<p> +Lord N—— did not answer, and Madeline followed Lady +Alice, deeply pained at the disappointment which she knew +would fill all that family circle. +</p> + +<p> +She took her seat at the harp, but begged to be excused +from singing, for she could scarcely trust her voice to speak. +</p> + +<p> +Lord N—— seated himself at a distant window, shading +his eyes with his hand. Lady Alice stood by her side, +and Madeline played in her most touching style many of +her beautiful pieces. +</p> + +<p> +"Some of your sacred music, Miss Hamilton," said the +earl, "for that suits the tone of our feelings," and she +played some exquisite variations from the hymn, "I would +not live alway." +</p> + +<p> +Every heart was full; silence reigned among them. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, one hymn of hope, Madeline," said the countess, +and all the group joined in the sweet words— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "How firm a foundation! ye saints of the Lord!"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and, supported by the others, she too poured forth her +wondrous notes in strains of melody, while the rich chords +of the harp accompanied the choir of voices. +</p> + +<p> +They parted sadly that night, and the next morning +early, left with feelings of deepest sorrow the sweet shelter +of Parkhurst Manor. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see you in London, Madeline," said Lady +Alice, "for you will need us, dear." +</p> + +<p> +A great change awaited our young friend; quiet lodgings +and the rooms of an invalid were exchanged for the spacious +accommodations and elegant ease of the home they had +left. Aunt Matilda was sadly discontented, and shrewdly +suspected what had taken place at Parkhurst. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, I have a right to know; I am sure that Lord +N—— loves you deeply. Have you rejected him? Are +you such a blind, silly girl?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do not ask me, aunt; surely I have a right to some +privacy of thought and action." +</p> + +<p> +"You cannot deny it; you have rejected one of the first +offers in Great Britain, and you are just a fool, and nothing +else, Madeline Hamilton!" +</p> + +<p> +"Would you have me give my hand without my heart, +Aunt Matilda?" +</p> + +<p> +"A fiddlestick for a heart, Madeline, when a coronet was +laid at your feet, to turn away—I know what for; I am so +ashamed for you, that I cannot utter all I think. Now I +am sure that you love that beggar-boy; for nothing else +could make you reject such a splendid match as the son of +an English earl." +</p> + +<p> +"Spare me, dear aunt, and let us talk of something else; +when dear papa is so ill we have enough to think about." +</p> + +<p> +She could not forgive her niece, and seldom exchanged +any thing but the merest words necessary for daily +duties—cold, constrained, often harsh. She took the first +opportunity to acquaint Mr. Hamilton with the facts of the case. +He was both surprised and grieved, for he had seen with +pleasure the growing attachment of the young nobleman. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, how is it that you rejected Lord N——? +Few young ladies would turn away from such an offer. I +had hoped that his goodness and mental worth, not to +speak of his lovely family, would have certainly won your +heart." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not let us talk about it, dear papa, I do not love +Lord N—— as I should a husband; he is a dear friend, +but nothing more." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot account for it, Madeline, unless your heart is +previously occupied; if so, should you not tell your father?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am bound to no one, dear papa; just let me wait +upon you, and administer to your comfort, that is all I ask." +</p> + +<p> +"Remember what I have said, Madeline; it would have +made me very happy if you could have accepted this young +man, not on account of his noble birth, or wealth, but just +for his modest, manly piety and worth. But in this matter +you must choose for yourself, and God will bless my +daughter." +</p> + +<p> +After a consultation of eminent physicians, the painful +alternative was proposed to Mr. Hamilton. When they +had gone, he sent for his daughter. "Madeline, you +remember that I told you in all things we must trust in God; +you have now great occasion for that holy confidence. I +have never told you until now the nature of my disease. +It has been a long and painful process that has brought me +to the crisis; an operation is necessary, my child;" observing +Madeline's pallid face, he continued, "do not be alarmed; +all is in the hands of a wise and gracious God. It may +be successful, or I may sink under the operation; but +nothing else can be done, and we must prepare our minds; +it will be speedily over, there will be no very long +suspense. Be the end what it may, I trust that I am +prepared; my hopes are all upon the 'Rock of Ages.'" +</p> + +<p> +"When will it take place, papa?" asked the trembling +girl. +</p> + +<p> +"In about ten days," was the answer; "and now, darling, +we will talk no more about it; to-morrow will be +Sunday; you must go to church, Madeline, and have prayers +offered for me; Aunt Matilda will stay with me." +</p> + +<p> +It was a season of sweet and holy refreshment to the +young pilgrim, for she needed the heavenly manna for her +weary, anxious spirit. Passing out of church, what was +her surprise to see Roland, the friend of her youth, +standing at the door in company with two gentlemen; the one +elderly, of noble presence, and the other a young +gentleman, of whom she had no remembrance. Roland +advanced, extended his hand, and said— +</p> + +<p> +"How is it that you are here alone, Miss Hamilton?" +</p> + +<p> +"My father is very ill; my aunt is staying with him, +and he sent me to have prayers offered for him. I need +them, oh, how much! remember me, Mr. Bruce." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was pale and worn, and Roland was touched +by the expression of deep sorrow upon her fair young face. +He took the little hand as in days of yore, and said, in low +tones— +</p> + +<p> +"Do you dream, Miss Hamilton, that I can ever forget +you at a throne of grace? You are always remembered +there and everywhere." +</p> + +<p> +Roland then hastily introduced his friends, but Uncle +Malcolm had recognized the young lady that he had once +met before in a carriage. A glance at the earnest gaze of +Roland, and at the downcast blush of Madeline, caused a +smile to flit across the face of the good man, as he +remembered the days of his youth, and the sweet blushes of +Mary Gordon in the first days of their innocent, unhappy +love. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you staying, Mr. Bruce?" asked the young +lady; "I may need your presence ere long." +</p> + +<p> +Roland gave his address, and they parted. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Roland Bruce!" said Edmund, "of all the sly +fellows that I have ever met, you exceed—here have I been +prating to you of Madeline Hamilton's beauty, and behold, +she is an old acquaintance!" +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled, as he replied, "Yes, I knew her in +America, ever since she was ten years old; and I am +therefore somewhat acquainted with the young lady." +</p> + +<p> +"And why, then, do you not visit your old friend?" +</p> + +<p> +Roland's countenance fell, and drawing himself proudly +up, he replied, "We will change the subject, if you please, +Edmund." +</p> + +<p> +When Madeline returned, she sought her father's room. +</p> + +<p> +"Papa, I met Roland Bruce, to-day, at church; he seemed +so concerned to hear that you were sick." +</p> + +<p> +"What is he doing in London, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is in attendance upon a young man whose studies +he is directing." +</p> + +<p> +"I should like to see him, Madeline; he is a noble fellow, +and has been a kind friend to my little girl; I do not think +that he was very well treated by your aunt; but as eternity +approaches, my daughter, the distinctions of life melt away. +I did not want to dismiss him from our house—send for +him to-morrow, and tell him to bring his friend, Mr. Graham, +with him." +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow, a few lines summoned him to the sick +room, but without Mr. Graham. Shocked at the change in +Mr. Hamilton, he took his withered band, and seating +himself by his side, he said, "These are hours of weakness, +dear sir, and need a strong support." +</p> + +<p> +"They are, Roland; I feel flesh and heart failing, but I +can say God is now the strength of my heart—your dear +patient sister was the little messenger that brought the +first whispers of the Spirit, Roland; I never forgot her +dying words." +</p> + +<p> +For a minute, the brother was silent; but seizing the +pale hand, and pressing it warmly, he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Mr. Hamilton. What joyful news! my little +Effie! was she, indeed, the messenger to you? wonderful +are the ways of God!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland, and I have always wanted to tell all that +those words have done for me. I felt that her faith was +real; from that day, I have been reading my Bible with +earnest prayer, and it has revealed to me a Saviour, +all-sufficient for the darkest hour, all-merciful to the greatest +sinner—will you pray with me, Roland?" and the young +man bowed down by the side of Madeline, at her father's +bed-side, and poured out an earnest, heartfelt prayer. +</p> + +<p> +"There will soon be a painful trial, Roland; will you be +with us when the day arrives?" +</p> + +<p> +"I promise, Mr. Hamilton;" and Roland retired. +</p> + +<p> +He was frequent in his visits to the sick-room, introducing, +also, Uncle Malcolm, whose strong, fervent faith, +and Scriptural wisdom, was an unspeakable blessing to the +suffering man. +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow is the day, Roland; bring your friend;" and +Mr. Hamilton pressed the strong hand of his young friend. +</p> + +<p> +What was Roland's surprise, to see Madeline pale, composed, +and steadfast, by the side of her parent's bed, awaiting +the physicians. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you bear this trial, Miss Hamilton?" was Roland's +whispered inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot leave my father; who else should sustain him +but his own daughter? I have prayed for strength; it is +mine, Roland;" for in the deep feelings of the moment, she +dropped the ceremonious title which she had used of late. +</p> + +<p> +The surgeons arrived—instruments were prepared; the +sufferer calm and tranquil; Madeline heroic as a loving +woman should be; Roland, full of sympathy for her; +Malcolm strong, tranquil, prayerful. +</p> + +<p> +"My daughter, is it not too much?" whispered her +father. +</p> + +<p> +"For you, my father? can anything be too much? I can +bear all;" and she kissed the dear face with steadfast lips. +</p> + +<p> +Close by her father's side, with restoratives in her hand, +she remained throughout the whole painful trial; cold, and +pale as marble. +</p> + +<p> +Roland stood near her, and Malcolm on the other side, +with eyes closed, and heart uplifted to God in prayer. +</p> + +<p> +"It is all over," said the principal surgeon. +</p> + +<p> +"How?" whispered Madeline, to Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Safe, Madeline! It has been successful." +</p> + +<p> +The tension had been too much; the strong heart of love +gave way to the woman's weakness; the reaction was too +great; and Roland, perceiving her falling, lifted her tenderly +in his arms—the first time that he had pressed her form so +closely since the days of childhood; imprinting one warm, +pure, and tender kiss upon the sweet, pale face, he laid her +quietly upon the couch in the next room. Aunt Matilda +was there in anxious suspense. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it over, Mr. Bruce?" asked the lady. +</p> + +<p> +"All is well, madam, thus far, but Miss Hamilton needs +your care;" and he bathed the face of the unconscious girl +with the cologne that he had brought from the next room. +</p> + +<p> +"I will perform these offices, sir; you are not needed +here,"—and dismissing him haughtily from the room, she +proceeded to loosen the clothes, and apply restoratives. +The fainting was deep and long, and hastily she called a +physician from the next room. +</p> + +<p> +Yielding to remedies, in a few more minutes, some gasping +words, and a heaving of the chest, indicated returning +consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +The eyes unclosed—"How is my father, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Quite composed," was the reply; "he needs perfect +quiet; do not see him just yet; there must be no emotion; +when you are entirely restored, you can attend him." +</p> + +<p> +"When can you pronounce him out of danger?" +</p> + +<p> +"We cannot tell for twelve hours what will be the result." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline lay quiet for another hour, her lips moving constantly +in prayer; at length she arose. "I am better, aunt; +give me a glass of wine; I must return." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid, my dear child, that it is too much." +</p> + +<p> +"No, aunt, I cannot stay here—see! I can walk firmly; +I am perfectly restored;" and she passed quietly into the +next room. Stooping over her father, she pressed one long, +loving kiss upon his dear face. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not speak; I shall not leave you, dear papa, again." +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm watched with deep interest the strong love that +filled the heart of Madeline; and coming to her side, he +said, +</p> + +<p> +"My dear young lady, is your strength equal to this +great demand? I am ready to stay, and Roland will aid +me." +</p> + +<p> +She smiled as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"But you are not his daughter, his Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton slept apparently in perfect peace. Madeline +watched him with untiring patience and hope. Whenever +he stirred, she was directed to administer, in small +doses, the stimulants that were ordered by the surgeons. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the danger?" inquired Madeline; "he seems +so quiet." +</p> + +<p> +"The want of reaction; sinking of the vital powers, my +dear young lady." +</p> + +<p> +"Is there any reaction yet?" asked she, with a trembling +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"None whatever," replied the surgeon, as he sat holding +the pulse—"but it may come yet; there is a great +difference in constitution." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hamilton was evidently in a state of insensibility, +which Madeline mistook for sleep. +</p> + +<p> +"You had better administer the wine, my dear," was +the surgeon's direction. +</p> + +<p> +"Will it not disturb his sleep, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all, my dear child." +</p> + +<p> +And Madeline from time to time offered a tea-spoonful +of wine to the exhausted man, only a part of which he +appeared to swallow. +</p> + +<p> +Hours rolled on—Roland saw the quiet agony of the +devoted daughter, as no symptoms for the better appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I take your place, Madeline, for a few minutes?" +whispered Roland, as he beckoned to Mr. Graham to lead +her to an open window; and while she stood there, leaning +upon the shoulder of this good man, Roland continued +watching, and dripping the wine drop by drop. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Graham whispered—"Luik unto the Rock that is +higher than we, dear Miss Hamilton," for he saw what was +approaching. "There is a friend that sticketh closer than +a brother; trust him, my dear young friend;" and while +she leaned so confidingly upon the strong man, he whispered +earnest words of fervent prayer for the dear father stretched +upon that bed of languishing, and for her so soon to be +bereaved, that she was comforted and strengthened. "Take +me back to my father's side, Mr. Graham. I must not +leave him." +</p> + +<p> +The twelve hours had passed—no signs of returning +consciousness had yet appeared. +</p> + +<p> +The surgeon beckoned to Malcolm Graham to come into +the next room. +</p> + +<p> +"It is all over, sir—there is scarcely any pulse—he may +recover consciousness, but he is passing away. God help +the daughter; you must prepare her." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline had seen the signal. "Let me go, Roland; I +must know the worst;" and hastily she followed Mr. Graham. +He was standing by the side of the mantel-piece, +with his head bowed upon his hands, and strong emotion +was shaking his frame. He perceived Madeline. Taking +her by the hand, he led her kindly to the couch—they were +alone. Placing his fatherly arm around her, he said with +a caressing voice, "Lean on me, my child;" and he tenderly +smoothed the soft brown hair, that lay dishevelled around +her face. +</p> + +<p> +"God is trying ye, my dear; ye hae lately given yoursel' +to him; ye and yer dear father. He is going to tak' +him first; can ye say, 'The Lord gave, and the Lord hath +taken awa', blessed be the name o' the Lord?'" +</p> + +<p> +Her head sank lower, lower; she had fainted—Malcolm +laid her down tenderly as a woman, and knelt by her side, +administering restoratives, chafing the cold hands, and +lifting up his heart in prayer. +</p> + +<p> +She opened her eyes—a sweet, sorrowful smile passed +over her face, as she whispered, "It is a hard trial, but the +Lord's will be done; my father is a Christian, and I can +say now, he is thine; take him, dear Lord, to thyself; but +O, Mr. Graham! this human heart! How lonely will it be! +My father was parent, mother, brother, friend!" +</p> + +<p> +"Comfort will come, my dear child, if ye are ane o' the +Saviour's fold; he is afflicted when ye are sad, has borne +all yer sorrows, carried all yer griefs." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, let us return, Mr. Graham," and Madeline took +her place again by her father's side. +</p> + +<p> +A few more silent hours passed—about midnight, there +was some motion visible in the form that lay there so +deathly still. Slowly he unclosed his eyes, and raising his +hand, said, +</p> + +<p> +"Where is my daughter, my Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is here, dear papa," was the quick response. +</p> + +<p> +"Kiss me, darling; I am in the midst of the dark valley, +just passing over, Madeline; but 'his rod and his staff, they +comfort me.'" +</p> + +<p> +She stooped over the dear parent; he folded her fondly +to his heart; then held her off; looked at her one minute +with unutterable love; then pressed upon her cheek the cold +kisses of lips that were chilled in death. +</p> + +<p> +"You have been a comfort to me always, Maddy; you +will meet me, darling, in the better world; be true to your +dear Saviour, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you suffer, dear papa?" was the affectionate, +anxious question. +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all; perfect peace! perfect peace! God be +praised!" and in another minute, the spirit of Lewis +Hamilton had departed to its rest. +</p> + +<p> +"Tak' her, Roland," said Mr. Graham, as he saw the +drooping form of the afflicted daughter. Tenderly he +led her to the adjoining room, and whispered words of +Christian sympathy and love, in her hour of sore trial. +Aunt Matilda had remained in the room with her brother, +until the last moment, and had then sought her own room. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Roland! you know what I have lost," said the poor +girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Madeline, but think of his everlasting gain;" and +Roland sat with Madeline's dear hand clasped in his, as in +the days of yore. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Lady Alice had heard of the bereavement, and accompanied +by her brother, she sought the house of the mourner, +at the earliest period after the funeral was over. Roland +was there, and Lord N—— needed none to tell him of the +deep love that dwelt in the heart of Roland Bruce for the +orphan girl. But there was something in the humble, +deferential manner of the young man, which led Lord N—— +to wonder if he were really an accepted suitor. +</p> + +<p> +And for Roland himself—when the first hours of sorrow +had passed, and all were trying to return to their accustomed +pursuits, more than ever did he feel the vast difference +between himself, the poor young lawyer, just +launching upon the theatre of life, and the rich young +heiress of Woodcliff, the idol even in noble circles. +</p> + +<p> +What could Madeline ever be to him, but the sweet +child that he had trained, the young girl that he had +watched so carefully, and the noble woman whom now he +reverenced? He was allowed access to the house, because +Aunt Matilda had now no authority over Madeline, and +independent as she always was, she would not allow dictation +here; but only as a friend he came, and Madeline felt that +it was so. Once more she sought the house of God, where +she had been accustomed to worship. Clad in deep mourning, +she took her seat among the worshippers, and listened +to the Gospel message, with a full and trusting heart. +</p> + +<p> +It was a communion season, and as she bowed around +the chancel, she did not perceive, until she was returning +to her seat, that Lord N——, Roland, and Mr. Graham had +all knelt at the same table. It was a very sweet and +soothing thought that here they could all hold blessed +communion with their common Saviour; and though Uncle +Malcolm and Roland were of different sects from herself, they +were all one in Christ Jesus, "one faith, one hope, one +baptism." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Alice was about to return to Parkhurst; but ere +she went, she came to bid farewell to Madeline, who was +soon to return to America. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, dear, that you cannot be my sister, but I +shall always love you; it is a great disappointment to us +all, but especially to my dear Alfred. I have brought you +our likenesses, Madeline, with our hair woven on the back; +you can cherish us as friends, dear." +</p> + +<p> +"You do not blame me, Lady Alice, I hope; I esteem +your brother more than any one that I have met in England; +and for yourself, dear friend, I shall love you always, +just as if you were my sister—you will promise to write +frequently, will you not? I have something for you, Alice," +and Madeline brought out a lovely miniature, a perfect +likeness of herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Madeline; I never saw any thing more +beautifully painted—now, farewell! be sure to write often; +but be assured that I do not blame you; for as I am sure +that you must love another, I have nothing more to say; +nothing else could prevent you from loving my dear +brother." +</p> + +<p> +And thus they parted, these two young girls who had +learned to love each other so well. +</p> + +<p> +Lord N—— came also ere he left the city. +</p> + +<p> +"I may call you Madeline, may I not? for I am trying +to school myself to look upon you as a dear friend; I could +not let you go without a farewell, sad though it may be." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to see you, my lord, and hope to hear of +your welfare through your dear sister." +</p> + +<p> +"I think that I have seen my rival, Madeline, in the +young man that I have met here; and I do not wonder; +that noble brow, on which sits enthroned the lofty intellect, +the only signet of true nobility, and that manly form, I could +not but admire, while I dare not, as a Christian, envy." +</p> + +<p> +"You are mistaken, Lord N——; Mr. Bruce is but my +friend." +</p> + +<p> +"He will be more, Madeline, before many years; and +may God bless you both, I shall ever pray. Farewell! dear +Madeline, for I may say that in parting," and he wrung +the fair hand, on which he printed a warm farewell kiss, and +was gone. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap26"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXVI. +<br><br> +THE FIRST LINK LOST AND FOUND. +</h3> + +<p> +With a sad heart, Madeline turned her face homeward, +for no kind father would brighten Woodcliff again. Uncle +Malcolm accompanied them to the steamer, which was to +sail for Liverpool on the ninth of September. Malcolm +had become deeply attached to the noble youth who was +to be the companion of their voyage. Laying his hand +upon Roland's shoulder, he gave him his blessing, and +placing a packet in his hand, said, "Dinna forget, Roland, +this is but your first visit; I maun see ye again, my son," +and turning to Madeline with a moistened eye, he +added,—"Farewell! my dear young leddy, ye will na neglect my +boy, my Roland, I am sure; may God forever bless and +comfort ye wi' his choicest gifts." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline bowed her head over the warm and honest +hand, as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Roland has been my friend and brother ever since I +was ten years old; such friendships are not soon forgotten, +Mr. Graham." +</p> + +<p> +Bidding Miss Matilda and Edmund a courteous farewell, +he took leave of Mrs. Douglass cordially, and left the +vessel. +</p> + +<p> +Their passage must necessarily be a sad one; for on board +were the remains of Mr. Hamilton, and they could not but +be solemn in the presence of the dead. When fairly out +at sea, Roland opened the packet placed in his hand by his +good friend, and found to his surprise, a scrip containing +shares in the Bank of London to the amount of six +thousand pounds, accompanying which was the following note: +</p> + +<p> +"To Roland, from a friend that loves him well, assured +that he will be a good steward of his Father's gifts." Examining +his trunks, he perceived that there was one more +than he had brought, with his name on it, and a key hung +to the strap—what could it mean? On unlocking it, he +found a set of valuable law-books, a full suit of handsome +black cloth, a complete set of shirts, neckcloths, gloves, +hats, in fine, all that a gentleman needed; and, in addition, +a small case which, on opening, contained a very valuable +gold watch; and another, with Uncle Malcolm, Mrs. Lindsay, +and Annot's pictures. +</p> + +<p> +He was overpowered with gratitude, first to the God of +his fathers, and then to the noble friend whom he had +raised. +</p> + +<p> +"Looking aloft!" whispered Roland, with a full heart, +"I know now my mother's meaning; O, what a legacy she +left her son on that death-bed! From what depths of +poverty have I been raised! To what a post of honor and +prosperity! To God alone be all the glory! When she +bade me trust Him, I did not know the noble friend that +was then awaiting for me among my native hills, I did +not then know Malcolm Graham; but God knew where he +was, and led me to him. May he give me grace to be a +faithful steward of His many gifts." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda was still very haughty to Roland, and +distant to Mrs. Douglass; for she could not brook the +companionship of the "common class," as she styled these, +after the society of nobles; she was rather more +condescending to Edmund Norris, for she had learned that he +belonged to the upper circles of New York. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was much alone, and, in her deep mourning +dress, forbade any approach to light or trifling intercourse. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, having sought a secluded part of the +vessel, Roland followed her, and found her looking down into +the deep and solemn ocean. +</p> + +<p> +"May I intrude, Madeline?" for they had both agreed to +drop the formal titles of ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +"You are welcome, Roland, welcome always; for I spend +many sad hours in this lonely vessel, and can never forget +the sacred relics that are with us." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a solemn thought, Madeline, but do not let us +think of the silent dust; let us look upward to the blessed +rest of the immortal part." +</p> + +<p> +"How grandly sublime, Roland, is this rolling ocean! +so deep! so vast! so boundless! It reminds one of +eternity. I never look down upon its dark waters without +hearing from its dashing waves the murmurs of another +world; how many have sunk in this deep abyss, and passed +hence to their eternity!" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you remember, Madeline, how we used to listen to +its music at Woodcliff, when we were boy and girl? What +fancies we used to have!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, truly! we were singular children, Roland; I was +a giddy little kitten; but no one knows what deep and +solemn thoughts used to visit me even then;" and turning +a bright glance upon Roland's face, "I think the first that +I ever remember was from words uttered by you, the +boy-sage, as I think now that you always were." +</p> + +<p> +Roland felt his heart throb with emotions of delight at +these tender reminiscences, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Then you still remember, Madeline, the intercourse of +those childish days." +</p> + +<p> +"Remember, Roland! Yes; they will be remembered +in the world to come; for your words, your mother's, and +dear Effie's are the only ones whose impressions have ever +influenced my life." +</p> + +<p> +"What a blessed thought, Madeline! that dear Effie +should have so impressed your dear father." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland, it was a call of mercy; but I knew +nothing of it then." +</p> + +<p> +"God leads us by a way that we know not, Madeline; +what a blessed thing it is to trust Him! When my mother +first taught me these talismanic words, I did not know their +power; but I have learned since what they mean. 'Looking +aloft,' upward in all things, in sorrow, in perplexity, in +adversity, in prosperity, for guidance, for blessing, for +comfort; I can trust Him for everything now. When, with +her weak and trembling voice, she bade me in that hour of +affliction, 'Look aloft,' when my boyish heart sank within +me at the prospect of being all alone, I did not know, +Madeline, of the dear friend, Malcolm Graham, waiting for me +in Scotland; nor did he know of me, but we were waiting +for each other; for God knew, Madeline; and He knows +and will guide all else that shall befall us;" and then he +proceeded to relate some of the most important features of +Malcolm's history. +</p> + +<p> +And thus the hours were beguiled until a late time for +retiring. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda called, "Madeline, it is growing late;" +and Roland, taking her arm, and placing it within his own, +led her to the cabin-door, where he bade her "Good +night." +</p> + +<p> +"You seem much interested in the conversation of that +youth, Madeline; it is not very proper for a young lady to +be sitting alone until so late an hour with a young man." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's old spirit flushed her cheek, and tightened +the proud lip; but she checked herself, as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda, I am not a child now; my actions are +free, I believe, of control, so long as I do nothing that I am +ashamed of; I always was, and shall be, interested in the +conversation of Roland Bruce, and shall consider myself at +liberty to talk with him when I please." +</p> + +<p> +"O, I dare say, miss, that he is much more interesting +than Lord N——; I have no patience with you, Madeline, +to cast away a coronet for such a man as this." +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Matilda, you must not use such language to me; +Roland is to me a very dear friend, and nothing more." +</p> + +<p> +"You cannot say, Madeline, that he had nothing to do +with your rejection of Lord N——." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot be questioned, Aunt Matilda; but I will never +slight, or cast aside a friend like Roland Bruce;" and +Madeline sought her rest with a disturbed spirit, for she feared +that she had spoken improperly to her aunt, and resolved +to apologize next day. +</p> + +<p> +She was stirring early in the morning; and, with the old +innocence of childhood, she went to her aunt's state-room, +and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Aunty, let me in; I have something to say to you." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda could not resist the pleading voice, and +opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, dear aunt, for what I said last night; will +you forgive little Mad-cap's hot speech? it is some of the +old temper, aunty, that will get the mastery; when I can +sit more humbly at Jesus' feet I shall be better, I hope." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda kissed the dear girl fondly, as of old, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"I forgive you, my dear; you are the same little coaxing +witch that you were when a child; I wonder if you'll ever +be anything else." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope I shall always be innocent and truthful as a +child, aunty; but I think that it is time I had learned to +govern myself more like a woman." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass was charmed with the simplicity and +frankness of the young heiress; and, although much +slighted by Aunt Matilda, Madeline's kindness amply +compensated for this lack of courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe, Madeline, that you would associate with any +one," said Aunt Matilda; "however low born or obscure, +it matters not to you." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline smiled, as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"You need never fear, dear aunty; for the vulgar and +coarse-minded I despise, though dwelling in a palace; it is +'mind that makes the man;' so you see I come home true +American, though I have mingled with the nobles of England." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you think that the earl's family were lovely and +refined?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dear aunt; but I did not love them for their rank; +it was for their worth, their education; and, dwelling in a +cottage, they would be the same; we saw some, I think, +even among the higher classes in England, that were not +remarkable for refinement; for instance, the fat baroness +that we met at our dress-maker's; don't you remember her +vulgar airs when she tried to impress us with her style?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; but then you know that she had not always +belonged to the haut-ton; she was one of the 'nouveaux +riches.'" +</p> + +<p> +"In fine, Aunt Matilda, she was not a genuine lady, +and never could be made one; whereas, Mr. Graham is +one of nature's noblemen that I used to talk about when a +little girl, and he never can be anything else; I have met +with a few others just like him, dear aunt;" and Madeline +smiled rather archly upon Aunt Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +"She'll never be cured of her plebeian notions," said the +lady, with u sigh, as she turned away, "and it all comes +from associating with these Bruces." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline smiled again as she took the arm of Mrs. Douglass, +and commenced her walk upon the deck. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid that we are going to hae a storm," said the +latter; "the sky is vera threatening, and the wind sighs +heavily, as if mischief were brewing." +</p> + +<p> +"It must be a grand spectacle, Mrs. Douglass, to see the +war of the elements; I think that I should like to be in a +storm, if it were not too violent." +</p> + +<p> +"What are the signs, Davie?" said Mrs. Douglass to a +sailor standing near. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall have squalls before morning, ma'am. Mother +Cary's chickens are flying around, and the wind comes +from a stormy point of the compass." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda became nervous as she watched the dark +clouds gathering from so many different quarters, and heard +the growling of the distant thunder. The wind rose higher +and higher, the waves swelled until they rolled and surged +in heavy billows in the wake of the ship, which commenced +pitching and tossing from side to side; the rain descended +in torrents, and, through the speaking-trumpet, the loud +tones of the captain giving his orders, and the running to +and fro of the seamen, increased the fears of the ladies. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think of the storm, captain?" inquired +Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall have a fierce tempest, my dear young lady; +but we have a good strong ship, don't be alarmed." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda betook herself to the cabin, and, covering +herself up in her berth, trembled with apprehension. +Mrs. Douglass and Madeline committed themselves quietly to +the care of their Father in Heaven, and Roland paced the +deck, with his eye turned anxiously upon the warring +elements, and ever and anon walking near the cabin door, +hoping to see something of Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that you, Miss Hamilton?" said the young man, as +he thought he distinguished her standing at the cabin +door, in the dim light below. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I come up, Mr. Bruce? it is very close in the +cabin." +</p> + +<p> +"Throw on a cloak and hood; I want you to see the +storm." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline joined Roland on deck, and, looking around, +was awe-struck at the scene. The wind was whistling +through the canvas, and the ship reeling to and fro +like a drunken man, seeming, to Madeline's fears, almost +unmanageable. +</p> + +<p> +"Is there danger, Roland?" she asked, clinging closer to +his protecting arm. +</p> + +<p> +"There is always danger in a storm like this, and none +are safe but those who are anchored on the Rock of Ages, +Madeline," and Roland drew her closer to him, and threw +his arm around her to keep her from falling. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a grand spectacle, Roland; we never saw the +ocean in such a ferment. How insignificant we seem! how +powerless!" +</p> + +<p> +"You remember, Madeline, the sublime verses from the +Psalms of David, where he describes the life of the +seaman? 'For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind, +which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the +heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is +melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and +stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits' end. Then +they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth +them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, +so that the waves thereof are still.'" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline listened to the rich, deep voice repeating these +beautiful words, until, calm and tranquil, she leaned upon +that strong arm for security, knowing how he trusted in +the Lord. But the hurricane increased, the rain beat +fearfully around them, the waves rose mountain high, and, +washing over the deck, compelled them to seek shelter +below. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I come in, Madeline?" asked Roland, when he +reached the cabin door. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, Mr. Bruce! come in, don't leave as!" called +out Aunt Matilda, who was suffering agonies. "We shall +all be lost! oh, hear the wind, how it howls! And how +the vessel rocks! Listen! listen, Mr. Bruce, to the +crackling timbers! Can the vessel stand this storm?" and Aunt +Matilda wrung her hands in despair. +</p> + +<p> +"Be calm, my dear Miss Hamilton," was Roland's answer; +"let us commit ourselves to God, there is safety no +where else," and he knelt down in the midst of the anxious +company, and, in earnest words of fervent trust, he called +upon the God of the tempest, and still "Looking aloft," +was calm. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, the ship gave a heavy lurch, and rolled over +on her side; all were thrown violently down on one side +of the cabin, but she did not right again. Edmund Norris +ran to the ladies' cabin, for he felt the fearful danger. +</p> + +<p> +"We are going, Mr. Norris!" called Aunt Matilda; "we +are sinking, I am sure! O; God, have mercy! have +mercy!" +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet, my dear madam. The captain has ordered +the main-mast sawed away, and then we shall probably +right again." +</p> + +<p> +Roland, seated on the floor of the cabin, held Madeline +in his arms. Not a word escaped her lips, for she was +quietly reposing upon the promises of her Saviour. +</p> + +<p> +"We are in great danger, Madeline; are you resting +upon the Saviour, dearest?" and Roland bent down in +agony over the pale face that lay upon his bosom. +</p> + +<p> +"I know it, Roland, but perfect trust fills my heart; and +if we go down in the deep water, it is with you, my dearest +friend, and we shall enter Heaven together, and never go +out again." +</p> + +<p> +It was an hour when the ceremonies of life were all +forgotten, and Roland pressed a warm kiss upon the cold +forehead and the pale lips that were whispering these +precious words. In another minute the ship righted, and +the cheers of the sailors resounded throughout the ship. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us thank God, Miss Hamilton," said Roland, as he +turned to Aunt Matilda; "for I hope that the storm is +subsiding," and he poured out, in their midst, an earnest +thanksgiving for the deliverance which he trusted was near. +Gradually the storm abated, and, towards morning, the +waves sank to their ordinary bed, and the vessel went on +her way. A temporary mast had to be erected, but, as +they were nearing port, little anxiety was felt. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline blushed when she next met Roland, for she +feared that, in the hour of danger, she had betrayed too +much; but the sweet remembrance of his whispered words +had banished all remaining doubts, and now she knew that +Lavinia's tales about Helen Thornly must all be false; for +Roland and honor were to her but one name. Edmund +Norris had witnessed the scene in the storm, and understood +now the silence of his friend whenever he had mentioned +the name of Madeline Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +They were now nearing port. In a few days, speeding +up the bay, they were at home. Roland took lodgings for +himself and aunt in New York, and Madeline prepared to +return to Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +"You will go with us, Roland," said Madeline; "we +must look to you to aid us in the last said offices for dear +papa," and the young man accompanied the party. +</p> + +<p> +"You will come on to see us, Mrs. Douglass," was +Madeline's last farewell. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sad return; for, instead of the beloved father, +nought remained but the sacred dust to be consigned to +the silent grave. The servants gathered in reverence in +the hall, as the family entered. Joy at their return was +mingled with deep sorrow, for they had all loved kind +Mr. Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +In two days, arrangements were made for the interment; +and, in the midst of his own people, and the surrounding +neighborhood, he was laid by the side of his departed wife, +and the service that he had loved whispered its sublime +consolations over his grave. Roland returned to New +York, and resumed the active duties of his daily life. +</p> + +<p> +Not long after Madeline's arrival, the old took, coming +to her sitting-room, asked to see her for one moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Madeline, there was a strange woman here the +other day, inquiring when you would be at home; she +spoke some queer language, I don't think it was an Irish +tongue, and she called herself Elsie." +</p> + +<p> +"Did she say that she would come again, Betty?" +inquired Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; I told her when you were expected, and she said +that she would come soon. She was very tired and +hungry, and I gave her a good supper; that was right, +was it not, Miss Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Betty, do not turn any one away that wants +something to eat from Woodcliff; we have a great deal to +spare, and it is such a blessed thing to give." +</p> + +<p> +In about a week, Mrs. Douglass came down to pay a +visit. Aunt Matilda was polite, for she was too +kind-hearted to be rude in her own home. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you heard any thing from Mr. Bruce's father?" +inquired Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Nae, not yet; but I hae advertised in several papers, +an' hope that I may get some tiding afore lang." +</p> + +<p> +"It is strange that he should have left his family so +suddenly, Mrs. Douglass." +</p> + +<p> +"He was aye an odd mon, Miss Hamilton, prone to +fits of melancholy, an' we often feared that he wud gang +crazy." +</p> + +<p> +After she had been a few days at Woodcliff, an old +woman called to see her; in going to the hall, what was +Mrs. Douglass' surprise to see Elsie Gibson! whom she +immediately recognized. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that ye, Elsie?" said the lady, grasping her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm owre glad to see yer face, ma'am; you were aye like +yer brither Stephen." +</p> + +<p> +"Can ye tell me ony thing aboot him, Elsie? I hae a +fancy that he is still amang us; and I maun find him." +</p> + +<p> +"It hae been a lang time syne he cam to this country, +Mrs. Douglass, an' his family had na seen him for years." +</p> + +<p> +"There is property in Scotland which canna be settled +until we find the heir, Elsie, an' if ye ken ony thing aboot +him, will ye na tell his sister?" +</p> + +<p> +"His loss was published in the papers in America. +Mrs. Douglass, an' that is a' that I can say, ma'am." +</p> + +<p> +Elsie would say no more, and spent the rest of her time +in making inquiries after her kindred in Scotland. +</p> + +<p> +"Are ye na ganging home, Elsie?" continued Mrs. Douglass, +"there is a comfortable hoose waiting for ye wi' your +sister, and she is sair grieved that ye bide sae lang awa'." +</p> + +<p> +"As soon as my wark is done in America, I will gang to +my ain people, for I hae greeted sair for them; but my +wark is na finished yet; fare ye weel, ma'am, I shall see ye +ance mair," and Elsie took her departure. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass returned to New York, and still continued +her advertisements, for it was all that she could do. +After she had been there some months, a note reached her +from a family in Newark, requesting her to call, as they +could give her some information with regard to the person +of whom she was in search. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. and Mrs. Antrim were a Scotch couple living quietly +outside of Newark, having resided for twenty years in +America—Mrs. Antrim, a neat, elderly person, received +Mrs. Douglass cordially. +</p> + +<p> +"I saw your advertisement, madam, and it struck me +that I might give you some information concerning your +lost friend." +</p> + +<p> +"It is my brother, madam, wha is subject to fits of +derangement, an' wha I think is in America." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Antrim described a mysterious man who had long +lived in their neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass listened with deep interest, for she was +sure that she had found her brother. +</p> + +<p> +"When was he here last, Mrs. Antrim?" she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"Last Monday, and said that he would come this week." +</p> + +<p> +"Can ye accommodate me wi' board for a few weeks?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think that we can; we are not in the habit of taking +lodgers, but if it will be the means of bringing this poor +man back to his family, I will do it cheerfully." +</p> + +<p> +"I dread seeing him, Mrs. Antrim, for if he kens the face +o' his sister, he will ne'er come again." +</p> + +<p> +"We must be very cautious; do not address him, Mrs. Douglass, +take no notice of him. I have a little grandson +of whom he is very fond; he is the only one that can make +him talk; we must watch for opportunities." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass provided herself with a pair of green +spectacles, and a very plain Quaker dress, that completely +metamorphosed her, for the bonnet so entirely hid her face, +that her own relations would not have recognized her; +this she was to wear whenever the strange visitor should +appear. +</p> + +<p> +In a few days, Mrs. Antrim came up to Mrs. Douglass' +room. +</p> + +<p> +"He is coming, you had better change your dress." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass did not appear until tea-time; she then +quietly took her seat at the table, and had time to +scrutinize the strange guest. Years had made great changes; +the tall form was bent, the black hair was thin, and streaked +with gray, the bright eye was dim and wandering, the once +rich, dark complexion sallow, and the cheeks hollow and +shrivelled; an uncertain flickering smile played around the +lips once so stern and firm; but there was no mistaking +Stephen Bruce—there was the marked finger, the same +voice, and the remains of the same brother that had once +sat by her side at her father's board. He talked but little, +for he saw that there was a stranger present. The little +grandson was at the table. +</p> + +<p> +"Sit by me, George," said the man, as he drew the child +next to him, and continued, "shall I gie him some o' these +cakes, Mrs. Antrim?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Robert, but not many." +</p> + +<p> +"Where hae ye been a' this week, my little mon? ye hae +na' been to see auld Robert ance." +</p> + +<p> +"I have been sick, Robert, and grandma would not let +me go out." +</p> + +<p> +The boy was about ten years did, the age that Roland +was when his father had disappeared, and had the same +dark eyes and hair. The man smoothed the dark hair as +he said, +</p> + +<p> +"He is just like ane I luve, Mrs. Antrim." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass could scarcely control her feelings, and +finding that her food was almost choking her, she arose +hastily, and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Where has the strange woman gane, Mrs. Antrim? +Did I frighten her awa'? What does she wear that bonnet +for?" +</p> + +<p> +"She has had weak eyes, and is not very well, Robert." +</p> + +<p> +"I heard her speak aince, Mrs. Antrim; I think that I +hae heard the voice afore; let me see," and he placed his +finger upon his lip, as he continued, "I can na' remember, +but I hae heard it somewhere." +</p> + +<p> +He left soon after tea, and Mrs. Douglass, deeply agitated, +declared that it was her lost brother. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you want to do, Mrs. Douglass?" +</p> + +<p> +"To tak' him hame wi' me to Scotland; our property can +na' be settled until he gaes." +</p> + +<p> +"I fear that you will have great trouble before you can +do this." +</p> + +<p> +Several visits were paid, but still no progress towards +acquaintance; at last one day, he said suddenly to +Mrs. Antrim, +</p> + +<p> +"Is that a Quaker lady? She seems very quiet, not +ane o' the clattering kind o' women. I hae twa books +which I ken would please her,—the lives o' George Fox +an' William Penn; I wonder if she would come up to my +little cottage." +</p> + +<p> +This was wonderful for Robert Duncan, but he seemed +to regard the quiet lady with a sort of pity. Mrs. Antrim +communicated the news to Mrs. Douglass, and with many +charges to conceal her emotion, they walked up to the +humble home. It had but two rooms, very plainly +furnished—on one side of his sleeping-room hung a shelf of +books. +</p> + +<p> +"Will ye sit doon, ma'am?" said Robert to the Quaker +lady, and bringing the volumes spoken of, he continued, +"I thought that ye might like these books, ma'am; wud ye +like to read them?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass replied, in a low tone; "If thee will lend +them to me, Robert." +</p> + +<p> +He tried to look under her bonnet, as he said, "It is vera +like her voice." +</p> + +<p> +"Whose voice, Robert?" asked Mrs. Antrim +</p> + +<p> +"It dinna matter, ma'am, it can na' be; for she is far +awa'." +</p> + +<p> +While they were looking over the other books, two pictures +fell out from between the leaves of one. It was but +a glance—but it was Mary Gordon's face, and Roland's +when a lovely child. Mrs. Douglass was thrown off her +guard; she seized the pictures. +</p> + +<p> +"Where did ye get these, Robert Duncan?" and the man, +alarmed, gathered up the pictures, and hurried off into the +next room. Before they left the cottage, he came back, +and with the suspicious glance of returning insanity, +said,— +</p> + +<p> +"What do ye ken aboot these pictures? hae ye e'er seen +them before?" and before she could reply, Robert had +rushed out of the cottage, into a woods near by, and as +they returned home, they saw him peeping with a dark +countenance at them from behind some trees. +</p> + +<p> +"I fear that we shall not see him soon again," said +Mrs. Antrim; "he will have one of his dark spells, and we must +let him seek us now." +</p> + +<p> +For weeks no tidings were heard of the poor man, and +Mrs. Douglass began to fear that her mission was fruitless. +It was some time before he appeared at church again, and +bent on avoiding them, he went out at a side door, and +they did not force themselves upon his notice. +</p> + +<p> +For several weeks it was the same—Mrs. Antrim hoped, +however, that the loneliness of the cottage would bring +him to their fireside in search of his little friend George. +</p> + +<p> +A salutation at the church-door, and a walk home with +Mrs. Antrim, was the first encouraging sign; and the next +afternoon, Robert was seen coming slowly up the garden +path. +</p> + +<p> +"I think you had better not appear, Mrs. Douglass, until +he asks for you," said the hostess. +</p> + +<p> +"I could na' stay awa' frae little George any mair, +Mrs. Antrim; how fares the bairn?" +</p> + +<p> +"He has been asking for you every day, Robert." +</p> + +<p> +The poor man looked pleased, as he caressed the little +fellow. +</p> + +<p> +After a few more visits, he asked for Mrs. Douglass. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is the Quaker lady, Mrs. Antrim?" +</p> + +<p> +"She will be here directly, Robert," and Mrs. Douglass +appeared without her bonnet; a simple cap alone covered +her fine dark hair. +</p> + +<p> +Robert looked long and earnestly at the face, as though +he were studying the resemblance to some one whom he +had known. +</p> + +<p> +"Did ye always live in America, ma'am?" inquired he. +</p> + +<p> +The question was unexpected. +</p> + +<p> +"I hae been here for some time, Robert." +</p> + +<p> +"Yer dialect is Scotch, ma'am; hae ye iver lived in +Scotland?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is my native land, Robert." +</p> + +<p> +No more conversation passed at this time, and he took +his leave. +</p> + +<p> +Absent again for some weeks, they sent to inquire, and +found that he was very sick. +</p> + +<p> +"I will mak' a desperate trial, Mrs. Antrim; there hae +been no progress yet in my mission; an' I maun try anither +mode; let me gae this time to see him." +</p> + +<p> +"You may go, Mrs. Douglass, and may God be with you." +</p> + +<p> +Throwing off her Quaker dress, she assumed her former +garb, and tremblingly proceeded to the cottage. Robert +was very sick; confined entirely to his bed. +</p> + +<p> +She entered, took off her bonnet, and advanced to the +bedside. +</p> + +<p> +"Stephen Bruce! my brother Stephen! dinna ye ken yer +sister?" +</p> + +<p> +The countenance of the sick man darkened, as he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Wha are ye that come to fash a puir sick mon by calling +him by a wrang name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dinna ye ken yer ain sister Annie, Stephen?" +</p> + +<p> +"My sister Annie is in Scotland," replied the man, +thrown off his guard. +</p> + +<p> +"She is by yer side, Stephen, yer ain loving, faithfu' +sister; she has crossed the deep ocean to find ye, an' God be +praised, she has na' come in vain." +</p> + +<p> +"Why do ye seek me, Annie? I am but a puir wretched +mon; ye canna' want sic a brother." +</p> + +<p> +"Ye are sair distraught, Stephen; I cam to tak' ye hame, +that ye may get yer ain, my brother." +</p> + +<p> +"Nane wad want to see a mon that had forsaken wife an' +bairns as I hae done, Annie." +</p> + +<p> +"Just consent to gang wi' me, Stephen." +</p> + +<p> +But no words could change the determination of Stephen +Bruce; he listened moodily to all his sister's arguments; +but all was in vain. +</p> + +<p> +She took her departure, and her heart sank within her +when she heard the bolts slide, fastening doors and +windows against another entrance. +</p> + +<p> +She sent each day to inquire; he was getting better; but +no inducements could persuade him to open his door to the +family at Mrs. Antrim's, not even to little George. +</p> + +<p> +In a few days, the cottage was forsaken; and Stephen +had vanished from the neighborhood. Thus the link so +lately found was lost once more. +</p> + +<p> +In vain Mrs. Douglass sought for tidings; there was no +clue whatever to his movements. +</p> + +<p> +"I hae no hope but in Elsie Gibson, Mrs. Antrim; I +think that I shall see her soon." +</p> + +<p> +Advertisements were again inserted in the newspaper; +but still no news. +</p> + +<p> +At length Elsie made her appearance. +</p> + +<p> +"I hae found my brother, Elsie, an' lost him again; can +ye tell me where he is?" +</p> + +<p> +"I need na' be so secret noo, as ye ken that he lives; he +has a strange dislike towards his kin, but I hope that we +may ow'rcome it, for he is na sae bad as he was." +</p> + +<p> +"Where is he, Elsie?" asked Mrs. Douglass. +</p> + +<p> +"He is aboot tharty miles frae here, wi' an auld woman, +who is kind to him." +</p> + +<p> +"What led ye to this country, Elsie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ye ken the history o' my early days, Annie Douglass; +and ye ken fu' well that Elsie ne'er forsakes the ane she +luves, though Stephen luved anither. When the tidings o' +his loss reached Scotland, I greeted sair for him wha lay +buried in the deep sea; but when he appeared suddenly +amang us, I saw that his puir mind was a' shattered, for +he seemed dark an' gloomy, and could na' bear the sight o' +Malcolm Graham. He was aye jealous o' that stricken +mon; an' had the notion that Malcolm yet luved his wife +wi' a fond an' tender luve. He hid himsel' frae his friends, +got some o' his money secretly, bound me by a solemn oath +to keep his secret, and then started again for America to +watch his wife. I kenned that he was crazy; an' leaving +a comfortable hame, where I had enow to live on weel, I +cam' owre here; found puir Stephen separated frae his wife +and bairns, an' wandering aboot wi'out a hame. I could +na persuade him to gae back to his wife; but he employed +me to see that their wants were weel supplied. I went +out to sarvice, for I had nae ither way to live. At last, the +money he had brought was gane; he had become so much +warse that he could na' tell me how to write to Scotland; +then cam' the dark days. I had to wark vera hard to find +a hame for puir Stephen; the only thing that I am sorry +for was that I agreed to stop the letters which Mary sent +to Scotland, for he was beset wi' the notion that, in this +way, she could hear frae Malcolm; an' he was niver at rest +until I brought the letters, an' he destroyed them in my +sight. Then he seemed a little better; for he felt that he +had closed the door for aye between his pure an' holy wife +an' the mon that she had luved sae truly. But Stephen +luved her a' the time. I used to tak' him sometimes several +lang mile just to get a glint o' Mary an' her bairns in +her humble cottage. I led him to her grave, an' I saw him +weep bitter tears owre the green sod, and owre the grave +o' his daughter, Effie; an' I hoped that the warm tears wad +wash awa' the cloud owre the puir brain; but it is there +yet, Annie; an' I ken o' only ane ither way to lead him +hame. I hae told him meikle aboot his son Roland; he +luves that boy wi' a' a father's pride; if he could see him, +he might prevail on him to gang back to Scotland. I hae +helped to bear Stephen's sorrows, Annie, an' a' the pay I +ask is just to see him happy; an' that is my mission here, +Annie; when I see him wi' his ain people ance mair, an' +his puir stricken heart at rest, then I shall gang hame +again, an' spend the rest o' my life in preparing for my last +journey." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Douglass listened with many tears to this sad story, +and agreed with Elsie in the fancy that Roland only could +persuade his father to return. +</p> + +<p> +She lost no time in writing; Roland came at once, and +the three set out to find the heart-broken man. +</p> + +<p> +Elsie entered first. "Stephen, I hae brought a friend, +whom ye wad luve to see, an' wha wad luve to see ye." +</p> + +<p> +"Wha is it, Elsie? wha can want to see sic a mon +as I?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yer son Roland; as soon as he heard where ye are, +he left all, an' is here, langing to see his father." +</p> + +<p> +"Elsie, how can he e'er forget the days o' poverty an' +woe that I hae brought upon his mother?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is a Christian, Stephen; he has forgiven a' the +past, an' a' that he wants noo is to see his father, an' be a +guid an' faithfu' son to him, as he was aye to his departed +mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Bring him in, Elsie; I maun see my boy." +</p> + +<p> +Roland entered, and before he could prevent it, Stephen +had crawled out of bed, and lay prostrate at the feet of his +son. +</p> + +<p> +Roland instantly raised him from the ground. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not kneel to me, my father; I came to seek you as +a loving, faithful son." +</p> + +<p> +"I can na look upon yer face, yer young noble face, +Roland, for I am na worthy o' sic a son." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear father, let us forget the past; my mother would +smile upon this reunion, and now your sorrows are all over; +I will cherish and keep you as a true and loyal son." +</p> + +<p> +Stephen Bruce could not resist the generous appeal, but +lifting up his voice, the poor man wept; the fountains of +the great deep of feeling were broken up, and stormed the +bosom of the heart-broken penitent. +</p> + +<p> +Elsie Gibson stood by—poor, faithful Elsie; her mission +was accomplished; her woman's unselfish love was all +repaid. She knelt by the side of the bed, and wept long and +quietly, for hers were the tears of grateful, happy feeling. +Roland beckoned to his aunt. +</p> + +<p> +Stephen raised his head, the pale lips quivered, as he +said, "come, sister Annie, we are a' as ane again;" and +stretching out his arms, he folded in the embrace of a +brother's love, the twin-sister of his early days. There was +no more need to persuade Stephen to return to Scotland; +his anxiety to secure to this honored son all his rights, +made him eager to set sail, that he might, in some measure, +atone for past neglect. +</p> + +<p> +"You will return to America, my father, as soon as all +is settled." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my son, I can na' be parted ony mair; I maun +look to ye, my boy, for the strong arm; for I am a puir +broken doon auld mon, auld before my time;" and Stephen +folded his son in his arms with feelings of deepest reverence +and love. Elsie! poor faithful Elsie, stood in weeping +silence. +</p> + +<p> +"Fareweel, Elsie! guid an' faithfu' friend! ye hae been +true through the darkest days, an' God will bless ye;" and +Stephen laid his hand upon her head, as he said, "True +an' faithfu' may we a' meet abuve." As soon as possible, +arrangements were made to leave America; farewells +exchanged; and Roland, hastening from the ship, could still +glance upward, and say, "Looking aloft!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap27"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXVII. +<br><br> +HEARTS' EASE. +</h3> + +<p> +Foreign travel, association with Malcolm Graham, and +abundant opportunity in Paris, London, and Scotland, for +improvement, had done much for Roland. It was seen in +his daily life, in his professional career, and in the polished +grace always attendant upon a highly-cultivated mind, and +a heart purified by holy principles. +</p> + +<p> +Roland was henceforth among the leading members of +the younger barristers of the great metropolis; for although +but few could be found to adopt his principles of action, +none failed to respect his character. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Thornly's patronage was generously extended to the +young man, and the society met at his house was from +among the choice families of the crowded city. +</p> + +<p> +Edgar was still cheering his father's heart by the evident +improvement in his moral character, and earnest devotion +to study. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Thornly could never forget the debt of gratitude +which he owed to Roland; and for Helen, alas! it had +been a dangerous privilege to dwell in the house with +Roland Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +He is now a prosperous man—but does he forget the +humble friends who had sheltered him in the days of his +deep adversity? No—for no sooner had he returned to +New York than he remembered Richard and Martha +Green. +</p> + +<p> +Prosperity warms and expands a noble heart, and only +chills the sordid—and from the open purse of this child of +Providence, many liberal donations found their way to the +"News-Boys' Home." A valuable library now filled the +book-case in the reading-room, and none knew the generous +donor; but no boy spending his quiet evenings in useful +reading could experience half of the delicious pleasure that +Roland enjoyed, when sitting among them, hearing and +answering their questions; remembering that his means +had contributed the larger number to the shelves. +</p> + +<p> +Roland's name often appeared in the public prints in +connection with important law cases, and never without +abundant praise; but remembering the source whence all +came, he was not high-minded, but grateful; for it was God +who gave him intellectual power and influence; the God +who in one moment could lay his finger on that active +brain, and produce universal chaos. +</p> + +<p> +Entering the reading-room one evening, Roland perceived +a stranger, evidently a gentleman, sitting at the +table; he raised his head on Roland's entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Stanley! is this you, my good fellow? Where +did you come from?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have been in New York some time, Roland, pursuing +my studies; and seeing your name in the papers, I have +been trying to trace your steps. I am interested in these +good works, and coming to visit this institution, I found +that you were among its laborers, and have waited to see +you." +</p> + +<p> +"It does me good, Stanley, to see your honest face once +more." +</p> + +<p> +"And I am no less glad to meet you, Roland," shaking +him heartily by the hand; "I was a wild chap in those +college days." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Stanley; but you were a whole-hearted fellow, +even when you were doing wrong." +</p> + +<p> +"Those days are over, Roland,—what would you say if +I were to tell you that I am now among the saints, though +the very humblest of them all?" +</p> + +<p> +"What would I say, Stanley? Is it really so? Give +me your hand, your old honest grasp, and let me clasp it +as a Christian brother. How was it, Stanley? Tell me +all about the great change." +</p> + +<p> +"It is told in a few words—the first sermon that I ever +really heard, was preached at my sick-bed, by one who +lived the Christian—it sank right down into my very soul; +it spoke volumes to me; it haunted me night and day; for +then I began to feel that I really was a miserable sinner. +I tried to silence the voice, but it spoke deeper, louder. It +followed me into the very dens of dissipated city life. God +be praised that it did! I could obtain no rest. Suddenly, +I gave up my evil ways, and my bad companions; and at a +supper, where many of them were gathered, I publicly +renounced them all—they were amazed; they tried the power +of ridicule; but they knew Stanley, and soon left me to +myself. I found peace in Jesus, and I am not ashamed, +Roland, of the gospel of Christ—unworthy as I am, I am +preparing to be an ambassador of him whom I once derided +and persecuted." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Roland was silent. He remembered the +earnest, fervent prayers, which he had poured out in behalf +of Stanley; the answer had been long delayed, but it had +come at last. They left the room arm in arm, Christian +brothers. Roland was full of joyful anticipation, for he +knew the earnest character of this young man, and believed +that, like a second Paul, he would preach the everlasting +gospel. +</p> + +<p> +Introducing him into the family of Mr. Thornly, he was +frequently in his society, and found what he had long +desired, a fellow-laborer in his Master's cause. +</p> + +<p> +Helen was interested in the bold young champion of +truth, for she was herself becoming daily more devoted to +the cause of the Redeemer, less assimilated to the spirit of +the world. With her father's full consent, she took an open +stand with the friends of Jesus, and from that day, her +course was upward and onward in the Christian life. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline occasionally visited New York on business, for +she was still engaged in writing her little books—entirely +separated from the gay world, not only by her mourning +dress, but by deliberate choice, she was only found in the +domestic circles of intimate friends. She was still annoyed +by the public attentions of Henry Castleton, for personal +vanity had made him blind to the positive aversion of his +cousin Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia is now on a visit to New York, and is spending +an evening at Helen Thornly's, in company with a few +friends, among whom is Henry Castleton. The +conversation turns upon a party where the two had met. +</p> + +<p> +"Really!" said Lavinia, with a toss of her proud head, +"go where you will, one must meet with the parvenues of +society; did you observe that Miss Digby dressed out in +her diamonds and point lace, for such a small social party?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," replied Harry, "I could scarcely restrain a smile, +when I was introduced to her; who is she, Miss Raymond?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is the daughter of old Digby, the great confectioner; +he has retired from business, and lives in grand +style, with his carriages, and his town and country house; +but you can see the vulgarity of the people, for who but a +Digby would ever have thought of diamonds at such a +party?" +</p> + +<p> +"And who was that little Miss Austin? I mean the one +dressed in simple white, seated in the corner?" asked +Lavinia. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," was Harry's reply, "but she was evidently +a lady; so quiet! so refined! with such a low sweet +voice, and dressed in such excellent taste—did you observe +how much attention was paid to her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I wonder who she is; the Browns, the Starrs, +and the Carsons were very polite to her; and you know +that they are really our first people; she must be +somebody, for she had such a distinguished air." +</p> + +<p> +Helen let them run on with their folly, and then quietly +remarked with a meaning smile, +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Austin is a governess in the family of the lady +whom you were visiting; her father was a sea-captain, and +her mother conducted a young ladies' school for many +years; indeed, until her death; her daughter, who is highly +accomplished, is obliged to earn her own living—she is a +lady of great worth and intelligence, and, happily, is with +a family who knows how to value such gifts." +</p> + +<p> +Helen and Madeline were both amused at the disconcerted +expression upon the faces of Harry and Lavinia. +</p> + +<p> +"Really!" said the latter; "I never was more mistaken +in all my life, for I took her for a lady of high rank." +</p> + +<p> +"What are we coming to?" responded Harry, "when +the daughters of confectioners and teachers can aspire to +mingle with the best circles? I should not wonder if +shoemakers and tailors would creep in. Indeed, I have met +with one who was formerly a common boot-black in society +where <i>I</i> visit; I am amazed at his presumption, for Roland +Bruce was nothing more." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline could restrain herself no longer—for although +Helen tried to hold her down, she arose with dignity from +her chair, while a crimson glow covered her whole face, +and regardless of the presence of strangers, she said, +</p> + +<p> +"And do you presume, Harry Castleton, to look down +upon such persons as Miss Austin and Roland Bruce? you, +with your empty head!" (and she tapped her pretty +head with unconscious scorn,) "and they with their noble +character, and brilliant powers of intellect—I am sorry for +you, Harry, with such a <i>pretty little figure!</i> and such a +<i>paltry little soul</i>! Will it ever grow beyond a pigmy's? +Roland Bruce will shine among the great and good, when +you are entirely forgotten." +</p> + +<p> +Harry withered beneath her rebuke; and even Lavinia, +whose lip curled in contempt, for the moment looked +awe-struck. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline stood with her back to the door, facing the +glass; she was too much excited to look forward, or she +would have seen the figure of Roland standing irresolute at +the door, for he had heard all; and stood, not knowing +whether to advance or retire. +</p> + +<p> +It was a picture for an artist, as he appeared listening to +the impassioned words bursting from the lips of Madeline +Hamilton. Roland towering above all present in height, +with his broad expansive brow, on which sat enthroned a +lofty intellect, the signet of true nobility; his fine dark eye, +and firm, but sweetly expressive, mouth, his cheek glowing +with the feelings of the moment; and Madeline, in all her +youthful grace and beauty, with cheek suffused, and +burning eye, her hand extended towards Harry Castleton, who +durst not raise his eyes to hers—the room was silent—suddenly +Madeline raised her eyes, and in the mirror opposite +she saw the figure of Roland standing behind her, and +covering her blushing face with her hands, she sat down, +overwhelmed with shame. Roland advanced, with great +dignity, towards Helen Thornly. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you favor us with some music, Miss Helen?" +</p> + +<p> +She advanced, glad to break the painful silence. +</p> + +<p> +Roland did not, for some minutes, approach Madeline; +he understood her feelings, and spared her the pain of +drawing any further notice towards the sorely mortified +girl. When a suitable opportunity offered, he quietly took +his seat by her side; he saw that she was suffering, for +whenever she raised her eyes, they were moistened with +tears, and her lips trembling with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not distress yourself, Madeline," whispered the +young man, "be calm if you can; if you cannot, I will lead +you to the other room." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't speak to me, Roland, I an ashamed of myself; +such a burst of passion in this public place! I wish I were +in my room; I am not fit to meet this provoking young +man." +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you for the generous defence; but another time, +Madeline, I will say more to you about it." +</p> + +<p> +"You despise me, Roland, I know that you do; for I +despise myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Despise that warm and generous heart, Madeline! +Never! do not entertain the thought for one moment; but +I must leave you now; we are too much observed. I will +call to-morrow, if you will walk with me to the Battery." +</p> + +<p> +Crossing to another part of the room, he found himself +near Lavinia Raymond, and bowed politely. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Thornly sings well, does she not, Miss Raymond?" +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia looked surprised, as though not acquainted with +the gentleman, and made no answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Her voice is very sweet, and she sings with much +feeling," he continued. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Raymond deliberately turned her back, murmuring, +"Impertinent!" and crossed to the other side of the +room. +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled, for Madeline's warm and generous defence +had filled his heart with secret rapture, although he +could have wished that it had not drawn upon her so much +notice. +</p> + +<p> +The evening passed unpleasantly, for Madeline's mortification +and self-reproach were too deep to be easily forgotten; +she had exposed herself in the presence of so many +witnesses, had given way to an unchristian burst of temper, +publicly wounded a cousin whom she should have tried to +benefit, and, she was sure, must have lost the respect of +Roland Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +Roland's quiet dignity of manner had won for him golden +opinions, and Harry had failed again in humbling the man +whom he both feared and hated. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia was again disappointed; for the company generally +had treated the one with marked distinction, the other +with entire forgetfulness and contempt. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the afternoon of the next day Roland called; +Madeline was ready, but shy, reserved, abashed. +</p> + +<p> +They walked almost in silence until they reached the +Battery; then seating themselves under the shade, Roland +addressed the mortified girl, +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, Madeline? you seem so silent; are +you displeased with me?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; not with you, but with myself; I thought that I +had learned to control my impulsive temper, Roland; but +I find that I have made no progress. I own that I was +all wrong yesterday, but I have done the same before; and +on the first provocation, I am tempted, and overcome +again." +</p> + +<p> +"Your motive, Madeline, was noble; and, as Miss Austin +was not present to defend herself, it was generous in +you to be her champion." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked her thanks to Roland, for she saw how +he was trying to reconcile her to herself, and understood +the delicacy with which he approached the subject. +</p> + +<p> +"For myself, Madeline," and he spoke in lower tones, +"you were always the same noble, frank, and generous +friend; but you will allow me also the privilege of a friend; +you know I have always laid a gentle rein upon your neck, +Madeline; and you formerly yielded to the friendly check; +may I still do the same?" +</p> + +<p> +"Say all that you think, Roland, fully, freely, as you used +to do; only don't excuse me." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish that you would learn to restrain those open +expressions of your feelings; they make you enemies, and they +are not in accordance with the spirit of the Gospel." +</p> + +<p> +"I know it, Roland; I am so glad that you do not praise +me; I should not respect you if you did; but how am I to +become meek and lowly? I, passionate! proud! wilful +Madeline? I want to be humble, I long to be holy." +</p> + +<p> +Roland took the little hand gently, kindly, as of old, and +held it between his own; bending his eyes upon the +ground, he repeated, "'Come, learn of me, for I am meek +and lowly in heart, and you shall find rest unto your +soul.'" +</p> + +<p> +"How, Roland, can I learn of Jesus?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sit at his feet every day, Madeline; study his holy +character, pray for his blessed spirit; you have trusted him +with the justification of the immortal soul; trust him also +in the work of sanctification; he is the author of both; of +the former by himself; of the latter by his spirit." +</p> + +<p> +She bowed her head, and wept. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Roland! sometimes I fear that I am not among the +justified ones; if I were, would not the fruits be more +manifest?" +</p> + +<p> +"Have you any hope of Heaven apart from Jesus, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Roland, 'Jesus only,'" and this she said with +deepest feeling. +</p> + +<p> +"That is faith, Madeline, and it is faith that justifies; +this faith works godly sorrow for sin, earnest longing for +holiness, deep humiliation; do you not experience these?" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked up through her tears with such a smile +of hope— +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland, ever since yesterday I have been in the +dust, repenting of my sin, and longing, praying for holiness; +and then I am so sorry for Harry Castleton; I wounded +him so deeply, I behaved so shamefully." +</p> + +<p> +Roland, looked upon the weeping girl, almost with the +feelings of a parent towards a child; there certainly was +compassionate tenderness in his face, and lowly reverence +in that of Madeline, as he laid his hand in blessing upon +the drooping head. +</p> + +<p> +"I am going to ask Harry's pardon, Roland; I cannot +be happy until I do; and then, by God's help, I will never +be unkind to him again; he is not gifted like some others, +and it was mean to reproach him with it; I know that he +has always loved me, and I ought to be grateful; is it not +strange that it makes me so angry, when it is not so +with some others—I wonder why it is, Roland?" and the +artless look with which she uttered these innocent words, +caused a smile to pass over his face, for she was a child in +some things yet. +</p> + +<p> +"Is not this pleasant talk? just like 'Auld Lang Syne,' +Roland, when you used to lecture little Mad-cap, and when +she used to like the lectures so much better than other +people's praises." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is too pleasant, Madeline; I wonder if you have +cherished the mementoes of those childish days as I +have? do you know this handkerchief, Madeline?" and Roland +took out of his pocket a soiled cambric handkerchief, stained +with blood. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with great surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, where did you get that dirty handkerchief?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you remember the first day that we met upon the +shore, that you wiped my face with your handkerchief? I +have kept it ever since, and would never have it washed; +to-day I was looking among some old relics, and put it in +my pocket, intending to place it again among my treasures." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline blushed as she looked at the handkerchief, and +smiling, she said, +</p> + +<p> +"They were very happy days; what a merry child I +was! so spoiled! so wilful! I wonder if I am any better +now." +</p> + +<p> +"You were a very charming child, Madeline, and I never +can forget the little friend of the sea-shore. Here is another +relic!" and he held up a lock of golden hair, which she had +given him in those childish days. +</p> + +<p> +"Were we not very happy, Roland? now I am so much +older—we have both seen sorrow, you the most; and I too +have tasted of the cup—and now it is so solemn to live, +Roland, to have the charge of so much property, and to be +responsible as a steward for all that God has given to me. +Papa told me that I might choose my own guardian; I have +no male relations, and no one but you—will you not take +charge of my estate, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is a great responsibility, but I cannot well decline +it; I shall be but too happy if I can serve you." +</p> + +<p> +"I want some one to teach me how to take care of it, +and how to use it for the good of my fellow-creatures. I +saw such a beautiful example in the Countess of N—— +and her noble husband; they seemed just to live to do good +to their own family, and the people all around them. I +have commenced my little school again, and it is growing +fast; I shall soon want a teacher; then I must have a +reading-room for the factory-men, a missionary for the +neighborhood, and, after a while, a dear little church of my +own." +</p> + +<p> +Roland listened to the young enthusiast with a glowing +heart, for she was running on with a smiling face, and such +an earnest, happy expression. +</p> + +<p> +The tears were gone—April had passed, and smiling +May fanned its breezes around the two, as they sat under +those shady trees. +</p> + +<p> +She was playing with a sprig of hearts'-ease while she +was talking. +</p> + +<p> +"What a sweet flower you have, Madeline!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is one of my favorites; I have so many at +Woodcliff." +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you give it to me, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"What! my hearts'-ease, Roland! There, take it; I wish +it were not so faded." +</p> + +<p> +Placing it in a button-hole of his coat, he smiled as he said, +</p> + +<p> +"That is an emblem of yourself, Madeline, or what you +used to be—my own little hearts'-ease." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, truly! Roland Bruce paying compliments! Take +care, good sir; don't become a flatterer." +</p> + +<p> +"I speak truth, Madeline; but let us talk a little more +about this trust that you wish me to undertake—are you +very careful about your accounts, Madeline? you should +make a regular entry of every day's expenditure, calculate +your income, put apart so much for your charities, and so +much for your daily wants—but never run into debt." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline began to smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, good sir! it seems so funny for little Mad-cap to +be sitting here listening to a lecture from her guardian, +little Roland of the Maple Lane School—you are getting +on pretty fast, I think, and it will not be long before we +hear that eloquent speech that I have so often talked +about." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was suddenly depressed; for when he looked +upon the young heiress of so large an estate, and himself, +her guardian, he felt more than ever repelled from thoughts +that would sometimes rise up in his heart with visions of +domestic bliss. +</p> + +<p> +There was so much of artless, tender interest in Madeline's +manners, that often the thought would cause a thrill +of rapture as hope whispered, "She loves me, this peerless +child of Nature! this fresh, guileless young heart! But +it cannot be—be silent, foolish heart! But it is a joy to +guide, to counsel, to comfort, even to hear her voice," and +gradually he sank into silence. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's spirits were gay—taking Roland's arm, they +walked home quietly together. +</p> + +<p> +It had been a happy hour! But Roland awoke as from +a dream, when Madeline named her property; with that, +came the incubus that always lay as a shadow between +him and his darling's warm young heart. Chilled by its icy +breath, he remained quiet. +</p> + +<p> +"Why are you so silent, my good sir?" inquired +Madeline; "it seems that you have left all your spirits at the +Battery." +</p> + +<p> +"I was looking some very painful thoughts right in the +face, Madeline; there are some things that I must get +accustomed to, but it is not an easy task." +</p> + +<p> +"Can I help you, Roland?" and she turned a kindly look +upon his troubled face. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>You</i>, help me, Madeline! No—it is beyond your power," +and he looked deeply pained. +</p> + +<p> +"There is nothing, Roland, that I would not do, to lighten +your cares, if I only knew what they were." +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind, my good little friend, there is a refuge for +every care; I have tried it very often, and it has never +failed—no, not once." +</p> + +<p> +By this time, they had reached the door of Madeline's +stopping-place. +</p> + +<p> +"Good evening, Madeline, God bless you!" +</p> + +<p> +"I shall see you to-morrow, Roland—shall I not? I will +then tell you all about Harry." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I will see you,"—and Roland turned away to kiss +the sweet little bunch of hearts'-ease, murmuring, "not for +me! would that she were penniless;" while Madeline went +up-stairs, humming a low, soft tune, as she whispered, +"What a dear, kind guardian!" Would she have echoed +Roland's wish, had she known this to be the only barrier +between two pure young, loving hearts? +</p> + +<p> +True to her sense of right, she sent a short note without +delay to Harry Castleton, requesting the favor of an early +call next morning. +</p> + +<p> +Harry loved Madeline as much as his weak nature would +allow him to love any one beside himself, and had borne +much contempt from her even meekly; therefore, he obeyed +the summons, wondering what change had come over his +proud cousin. +</p> + +<p> +"I sent for you, Harry, to apologize for my conduct; I am +heartily ashamed of it—it was unwomanly, unchristian, +and uncalled for. I hope, Cousin Harry, that you will +forgive me; you know what a proud, high temper I have, and +must attribute all that I said to that infirmity." +</p> + +<p> +Harry looked amazed—he had never before seen Madeline +so humble herself to any body, and he wondered what +it really could mean. +</p> + +<p> +"I was to blame too, Madeline; I know how my speeches +provoke you, and I believe that I uttered them for that +very purpose. I receive your apology freely, I hope that +you will accept mine. I cannot help my feelings about +Roland Bruce, for I do believe that it is he only that +prevents your return of my warm affection." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline bit her lip, for hasty words were coming again, +but she restrained them, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +"You are mistaken, Harry, I feel for you the interest +of a cousin; nothing else could possibly be entertained; +but you will never have to complain again of unkind +conduct at my hands; I have been too deeply humbled. I do +wish you well, cousin Harry; I would like to see you +caring more for better things; then at least, you would +have my respect." +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, if you had always been thus kind, I might +have been a better man; your scorn has embittered me; +but words like these soften my heart, and waken better +feelings, even in vain and trifling Harry Castleton." +</p> + +<p> +They spent an hour in friendly conversation, and Madeline +was greatly relieved, when she parted amicably from +her cousin. +</p> + +<p> +A familiar step soon followed upon Harry's departure, +and Madeline, with her own mischievous smile, said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Roland, have I not been a good girl? I made an +humble apology to Harry, for all my naughty ways, and I +think that my venerable guardian must be satisfied with his +protégé." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled, and answered, +</p> + +<p> +"Follow out your own convictions of right at once, +Madeline, as you have done in this case, and you will not go +very far astray." +</p> + +<p> +"I would have done the same willingly before all that +room full, Roland, that they might have known how heartily +ashamed I was?" +</p> + +<p> +Roland looked upon this fascinating combination of innocent, +frank child-nature with true earnest womanhood, and +felt convinced that the world would never spoil this fresh +young soul. +</p> + +<p> +"You look very sad, to-day, good sir; has any thing +happened to distress you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing now, Madeline; I have only had to tame down +some wild, ungoverned fancies." +</p> + +<p> +"Here are some of my papers ready for my sage +guardian; when I get home, I will send the rest." +</p> + +<p> +Roland winced again; for this bundle of parchment reminded +him of the night's sore struggle—he could not now +see Madeline with the mere regard of a true friend, for the +silent hours of midnight communion had fully revealed the +state of his heart. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap28"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXVIII +<br><br> +SEAWEED. +</h3> + +<p> +The witcheries of the world were rapidly losing their +power over Madeline Hamilton—but Nature, calm, beautiful, +bright, became more dear, more elevating to her child—for +had she not always been her nursing-mother even +from earliest childish days? +</p> + +<p> +There was perfect harmony between the fresh guileless +nature and the green trees, the smiling sky, the deep blue +ocean, and the sweet voices among which she rambled; +and deeper, fuller than ever was the joy swelling in her +young heart, when she could look upward and say, "My +Father made them all." +</p> + +<p> +From the deep fountains of her new nature gushed out +streams of love, for all that God had made; for the more +that she loved God, the truer, and more spiritual became +her love for her fellow-men. Then the intimate relations +between herself and Roland, the dear companionship, +the old feelings of perfect trust and reverence, and the +tender interest which enveloped her in such a mantle of +protection, dwelt with her daily; and neither needed words +to tell how truly they were one, nor with what unconscious, +mysterious knowledge, they had read each other's hearts. +Roland could not but feel "she loves me," and Madeline +needed no language to make her understand how precious +was the sacred bond which united their warm young +hearts. +</p> + +<p> +The little children that assembled around her still in her +Saturday-school, and her class on Sunday, all felt the sweet +attraction—the dwellers at the cottages, Aunt Matilda, and +the people in the kitchen, all realized that a warmer glow +of love kindled in the young face, and sweeter words were +breathed from her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was really living—for the heart had found objects +on which to bestow its benevolence, and the feeling, day by +day, was deepening, widening, as she felt truly "Jesus loves +me, and I love him." +</p> + +<p> +As the guardian of her worldly concerns, she received +frequent letters from Roland, full of kind advice and +strengthening words. He had laid down for her a plan +which she was eager to carry out, and it was a pretty +picture to see the young girl with her little basket of books, +tracts, and domestic comforts, sallying forth daily among +her humble dependents. Hours for devotion, household +cares, for reading, music, for exercise, for benevolence, were +systematically arranged, and as carefully carried out; and +while Aunt Matilda was yawning over want of occupation, +and imagining headaches, indigestion, and countless other +evils, Madeline scarcely found time for her numerous +duties. She was very happy; for even while she missed +the smile of her dear father's approval, was she not blessed +with the assurance of his unspeakable gain? and did she +not hope to join him at last in the better world, to part no +more forever? +</p> + +<p> +Her cheek bloomed with brighter tints, her eye beamed +with holier love, and her lips told tales of sweet inward +peace and joy, drawn from the deep wells of salvation. She +was learning some of Mozart's and Beethoven's finest +music on her harp, and some sacred melodies for her voice; +for she knew the style that pleased Roland, and was +scarcely aware how all her occupations were mingled with +the name of that precious friend. Sometimes, doubts and +difficulties would obtrude themselves when reading the +Scriptures, and then she would wish for her faithful guide. +</p> + +<p> +"Get Mr. Bruce's room ready, Mary," said Madeline to +the chambermaid; "he will here to-morrow," and she spent +much of her time in preparations for the welcome visitor. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda found that although her niece treated her +with respect and affection, in the choice of her guardian +she had exercised the liberty which her father had given +her, and the good lady had quietly to submit. The respectful +reverence with which Roland treated Madeline's aunt +almost disarmed her opposition to this intimacy, and would +have done so entirely, could she have divested herself of +the fear that Roland might some day be more than guardian. +After tea, Madeline led Roland to the drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +"I have learned some new music just for you, guardian," +and she played some of her finest pieces with exquisite +taste and execution. +</p> + +<p> +"How can people like polkas and waltzes after such +music as this?" said Roland; "it seems to speak so truly +the language of the soul." +</p> + +<p> +"I have some beautiful sacred melodies, and I want you +to learn them to sing with me, guardian, your voice is so +good." +</p> + +<p> +It was amusing to see Madeline assume the office of +teacher, and when he would make mistakes, with an arch +expression around her mouth, to hear her say— +</p> + +<p> +"What a dumb scholar! don't you see that you are singing +the wrong note? I am so glad that there is something +I can do better than you." +</p> + +<p> +It was a laughing lesson, with Roland's blunders, and +Madeline's pretended reproofs, and the pat of the little +hand on his head when he succeeded. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be affronted, guardian, for I really do entertain +a profound respect for you, though not much wholesome +fear; that is rather out of my sphere, good sir." +</p> + +<p> +After sundry trials, they succeeded admirably, and +Madeline's sweet treble, with Roland's rich tenor voice, +made truly delightful music. +</p> + +<p> +"That's a good boy, Roland! you shall have a treat for +your performance," and Madeline ordered a <i>tête-a-tête</i> +supper before retiring, with just such viands as Roland +liked. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I see you to-morrow in the library, Madeline?" +was Roland's request, as he bade "good-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, at nine o'clock; I shall be occupied until that +time." +</p> + +<p> +A full hour was spent in transacting some business +attendant upon his office, and, at the close, Madeline, with +a sweet, serious face, seated herself on a lower seat by the +side of her guardian. +</p> + +<p> +"I have wanted you lately, Roland, I have been so +troubled when reading the Scriptures; I don't know what +can be the matter, but my mind has been so disturbed by +doubts and difficulties, that they have clouded my peace, +and perplexed me so much." +</p> + +<p> +"Are they connected with your duties, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Roland; they are about deep, inscrutable mysteries +that I cannot understand," and Madeline, from a full +heart, poured out all her tale of doubts and trials into the +ears of one ever ready and able to counsel and aid her +trembling steps. +</p> + +<p> +On Sunday morning, Roland accompanied Madeline, +opened the services of the Sunday-school, and aided in +teaching; in the afternoon, by the side of his young friend, +and using the same book, he joined in the beautiful service +which she loved, for he had outlived the prejudices of his +childhood, and had learned to love goodness and truth +wherever he saw it, or under whatever garb, and could now +easily make allowances for the deep aversion of those days +of persecution to the rigid ritualism which laid such heavy +burdens upon the consciences of Christian men. +</p> + +<p> +While he remained at Woodcliff, one hour each morning +was spent in studying the word of God, and his clear +explanations greatly aided the young believer. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a pleasant evening, Madeline; shall we walk +down to the shore? I must see the dear spot before I +return to New York." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a minute, Roland, I must get my hood and scarf; +it is a little damp. Old Peter will be glad to see us, and +I have something for him." +</p> + +<p> +"So have I," answered Roland. "He must be growing +very old, for he was an aged man when we first came to +Woodcliff, and that is seventeen years ago; I am now +twenty-six." +</p> + +<p> +"And I twenty-one; and yet, Roland, I do not feel +more than sixteen; I enjoy life as much as then, and I have +just the same faith in goodness as I had at that age." +</p> + +<p> +They soon found themselves at the dear trysting place, +and, seated on the rock, they gazed in silence upon the +grand old ocean. Madeline was the first to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Does it seem possible, Roland, that eleven years have +passed since you stood there," pointing to a spot near +them, "defending the poor little things who had lost their +diamonds?" +</p> + +<p> +"And yet, Madeline, if we measure time by events, +what a long life mine would seem! So full of trial, of +blessing, and of stirring incident! What finger-posts of +Providence have marked my way!" +</p> + +<p> +"How strange are its wondrous dealings, Roland! I +ran down to the shore that evening with my dog Hector, +just for a merry race and a wild romp with my good old +playmate, and I found you—then a poor, threadbare boy, +with a grand and noble soul—be still, Roland" (for he was +about to speak), "I felt what was hidden under your +worn-out jacket, child that I was; and I found such a +friend! eternity only will reveal what you have been to +wild, impulsive Madeline;" turning, with her young face +all glowing, she added, "I fought your battles then, Roland, +and I have done so ever since, for my childish instincts +read truly." +</p> + +<p> +"There are some scenes, Madeline, written upon the +tablets of memory with a diamond pen, and that afternoon +was one; the face of the bright child, with her generous +impulses and her scorn of meanness, the stained handkerchief, +and the tender touch of the dimpled hand have been +with me ever since; to this have been added the bright, +wild, untamed intellect that interested me in Maple Lane +School, the docile pupil coming to me with such winning +grace. I see the folded hands and downcast eyes even +now; the mischievous little sprite that loved bewitching +pranks; the gay young girl who, amid all the blandishments +of wealth, still nobly cheering my way; the riper +woman, with her noble heart, at last bowing at the foot of +the cross, and pouring out its love on all around her. +These, Madeline, have been with me always—cheering, +blessing, soothing." +</p> + +<p> +"All this, Roland, under the leading hand of a wondrous +Providence, you have done; sometimes I was led away, +but for what a short period! These early lessons are never +forgotten; and even in England, where I was surrounded +by so much more to tempt, my heart, true as the needle to +the pole, turned back with all its freshness to those early +memories and their teachings." +</p> + +<p> +Roland sat in silence for a moment, his heart filled with +unutterable love—could it be duty to throw from him this +gem of priceless worth, this young, warm, guileless woman's +heart? and yet as a flash darted through his brain, the +thought that would obtrude—as her guardian, acquainted +with the extent of her possessions, might he not be thought +selfish, mercenary? +</p> + +<p> +"And now you see, good sir, you are my grave and +reverend guardian, and must know all about your ward," +and Madeline flashed upon him one of her arch glances of +mischief; "if a young lady has offers of marriage, I suppose +that she ought to tell her guardian—is not that so?" +and she continued, smiling, "and always ask his advice +about such matters, for I have something of the kind to +tell now." +</p> + +<p> +Roland dropped his eyes, and moved away from the +young lady, lest she should see his emotion, and replied +seriously, "I shall always be interested in whatever +concerns you, Madeline, and will advise here, as elsewhere, +truly, faithfully." +</p> + +<p> +"Well! to begin—Harry Castleton is one of my devoted—he +has offered himself three times, and has as often been +refused; for you know, guardian, that I could never love +him, but I am going to treat him better; I have made a +good beginning; what do you think of him for Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"Think, Madeline! I should never cease to mourn over +such a union—it could never be." +</p> + +<p> +"Amen!" said Madeline, archly; "and then there was +Mr. Livingston, of New York, that all the belles were +dying for; a man of wealth, rank, fashion, and intelligence; +not caring much for the gay world—what do you think of +him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Did you love him, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—not exactly; and I used to think it was very +strange! he was so handsome and attractive! but what do +you say about him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I could not approve of him either." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, guardian! you are grim, and hard to please—well! then +there was Tony Willikins; poor Tony! when I +was a wild young thing, I took a ride with Tony, and he +asked me about his future establishment; about his house, +his carriage, his grounds, his furniture; and I gave my +opinion—well, to be sure! he built just such a house, +ordered just such a carriage, and then came, and asked me +to live in his house, and ride in his carriage. I almost +laughed in his face; and when I refused, he said that I had +encouraged him, because I described the house, and +recommended the carriage; I did not think that he was quite +such a dunce, but I really felt sorry for Tony; I did not +mean any harm—now, guardian, what do you think of +Tony Willikins?" +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled at the story, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +"I should object no more to this poor fellow with weak +intellect, and affectionate heart, than I would to a rich +brainless fop, without a heart." +</p> + +<p> +"When I went to England," and Madeline's face assumed +a more serious, tender expression, "I was introduced +to the family of the Earl of N——; it was all that a +Christian family ought to be, and there I spent some of the +happiest hours of my life. I was domesticated in that +household for many weeks, and became much attached to +Lady Alice, the eldest daughter. Lord N——, the eldest +son, was a bright example of a young English noble; +refined, intelligent, pious, and of an extremely prepossessing +appearance; we were associated daily; Roland, he learned +to love me with all the depth and tenderness of a true, +manly nature. I never knew an hour of deeper sorrow, +than when compelled to say to that outburst of a warm +affection, 'only friendship can I return;' now, guardian, +what would you think of him?" +</p> + +<p> +They were sitting very near the edge of the shore, and +as the waves washed up the sea-weed, Roland took up a +bunch, and handing it to Madeline, said, +</p> + +<p> +"You remember these flowers of the ocean—how often +have I gathered them for you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Remember them!" and Madeline opened a small pocket-book, +from which she took a few faded weeds, "Ah! how +often have these memorials spoken to me, Roland; once I +placed them by the side of the splendid bouquet, that Lord +N—— used to send me daily—and oh! the difference." +</p> + +<p> +"O, Madeline! dare I hope that the giver of these faded +weeds was dearer than Lord N——, with all his grandeur +and his goodness?" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline turned her deep expressive eyes upon Roland's +face, as she replied, in trembling tones, +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing else could have made me insensible to the +worth of Lord Alfred N——; these faded weeds, the +sea-shells, the sketch I found once in the library, were more +precious to me, more fondly cherished, than all the gifts of gold +that have ever been laid at my feet." +</p> + +<p> +"Can such blessedness be mine? the wealth of such a +heart?" +</p> + +<p> +"And mine, dear Roland! it seems too much of earthly +good to know that you are all my own, not only as my +friend, but my dearest, truest love." +</p> + +<p> +"And can you, with all your wealth and attractions, +turn from so much, and give your heart to me? I have +not much to offer, Madeline; it is true that my dear friend, +Uncle Malcolm, placed me above the reach of need, but +nothing compared to the heiress of Woodcliff; I fear the +judgment of your aunt; would that you were penniless." +</p> + +<p> +"I want nothing but yourself, Roland; only your pure +and noble self; have we not loved each other always? and +yet there was a time when I was afraid of Helen +Thornly." +</p> + +<p> +"And when I was afraid of Lord N——; for I saw his +worth, and his attractions, Madeline; and knew that you +were with him daily while I was absent." +</p> + +<p> +"What would your father think of such a choice, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was willing, in such a matter, to trust his daughter; +dear, noble father! he respected you, Roland, always; +and I believe, if he were living, he would smile upon us." +</p> + +<p> +"Look at me, darling!" said Roland, "let me see those +dear eyes, those truthful, earnest eyes, just turned on me, +as full of love and tenderness as in days gone by;" (for +Madeline had dropped her head, and bent her eyes upon +the ground.) +</p> + +<p> +She raised them to Roland's face, and in the deep look +of perfect trust and tenderness, he saw what that hour had +revealed to him. Taking both hands within his own, and +looking up to heaven, he prayed that God would bless this +sweet union of two young souls that had been so long as +one. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a love, Madeline, which will stretch forward to +eternity; it will be companionship on earth in all that is +pure and holy, to be perfected in the world above." +</p> + +<p> +One sweet, pure caress, one fond kiss sealed this heart +union; and taking her arm within his own, they turned +their steps homeward. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us just listen for one moment to the music of the +ocean, Roland; it is a grand old organ, with its deep, +mysterious chords; it has murmured many solemn hymns for +us, many a varied melody—sometimes gentle summer +lullabies, sometimes wails like funeral dirges—what does it +waft us to-night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing but soft, sweet hymns of harmony, Maddy; +bidding us praise our Father and our God." +</p> + +<p> +Old Peter had been watching the young people, in +whom he was so much interested; he saw the deep-absorbing +interest of that interview; the tender caress, and +the slow step as they moved away, and he said to +himself, +</p> + +<p> +"This is just what I thought would come of hoarding up +old shoes. God bless them! they are a dear young pair, +and deserve to be happy. What a handsome couple they +will make! And they are both so good! It puts me in +mind of Becky and me in our young days," and the old +man wiped a moistened eye with his rough coat-sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +Tea was long over when they reached home, but they +wanted no supper; and Aunt Matilda was out of patience +at the monosyllables which she received as answers, for +both seemed wholly engrossed with each other. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us go to the library," whispered Madeline; and as +they stood before the portrait of her father it seemed to +look upon them, with all the benignity of expression that +dwelt upon the face of Mr. Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +"It smiles upon us, Roland! does it not? I know my +dear father too well not to be assured that he would bless +us; let us kneel before his picture;" and as they bowed +solemnly in the library, Roland poured out his heart in +earnest, fervent prayer, for God's choicest blessings upon +them both. +</p> + +<p> +After an evening spent in happy converse, the hour of +separation came too soon. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us listen to the Eolian to-night, Roland;" and Madeline +led him to the stair-case; standing there together, it +discoursed soft, sweet strains, for the evening was balmy +and pleasant, and the wind fanned gentle breezes among +the foliage of Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +"How soft! how sweet, Roland, the harp is to-night! it +seems to breathe only of happiness and peace; sometimes +it has been so wild, so sad, when I have been in trouble! +I wonder if it does not just echo the voice within." +</p> + +<p> +"Doubtless it is so, Madeline; to-night the serenade is +very sweet; if the fairies play among the strings, they +must know all about us, dear." +</p> + +<p> +"It is a pretty fancy, and cannot harm us, Roland; I +don't believe it, you know; but then there are many things +I don't believe which it is pleasant to think about." +</p> + +<p> +"You must be careful, dear, in these flights of fancy, that +they do not depart from truth." +</p> + +<p> +"Well then, Roland, we will banish the fairies, though +they were long the friends of my childhood, and substitute +the good, real angels, and think that the sweet music is +mingled with theirs." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night, Madeline, may they guard your slumbers;" +and Roland clasped the little hand fondly, and impressed +the kiss of pure affection upon the fair young brow. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's dreams were pure and holy that night, for +was she not the chosen companion of the man whom she +most loved and honored on earth? +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, she acquainted her aunt with what had +taken place. She was not surprised, but deeply +disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot understand you, Madeline, to reject such a +man as Lord N——, and to choose one so low-born, so +obscure as Roland Bruce; but you must have your own way; +you were always a wilful child!" +</p> + +<p> +"You will learn to think differently some day, aunty; +when you know Roland, you will find out true nobility." +</p> + +<p> +"Next Sunday will be our communion day, Roland; you +will stay, can't you?" said Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"I will try; by writing a few lines, I can be spared that +long." +</p> + +<p> +There were but few as yet gathered into that little fold; +but it was a blessed hour, when the two bowed together at +the table of their Master, and consecrated their united lives +to his holy service. +</p> + +<p> +There had been a parlor organ hired for their little church, +and as they together joined in the high praises of the +Trisagion, their spirits seemed to soar beyond the things of time +and sense, and to prostrate themselves together before the +throne of God and the Lamb. +</p> + +<p> +"This is living," said Roland, as they walked homeward +together; "loving God supremely, and each other fondly, +for Jesus' sake, with the sweet hope of eternal union, when +the cares and sorrows of life are ended; this is living, +Madeline. God is love, and is best pleased when his creatures +are most like him." +</p> + +<p> +"I used to think, Roland, that it was a sin for mortals +to love each other, and it once troubled me sorely, when I +began to think of becoming a Christian." +</p> + +<p> +"Just study the life of Christ, dear, and the teachings +of the disciple whom Jesus loved the best, the loving John; +his epistles are full of heavenly love, and you will never +make that mistake again; for remember, that he teaches +the duty of the highest exercise of Christian love, when +he says, 'That we ought to lay down our lives for the +heathen.'" +</p> + +<p> +"How that view draws us to the blessed Saviour! How +different from the teachings of those who would represent +God as seated far away, upon the throne of the Universe, +forbidding the approach of his erring children." +</p> + +<p> +"Always think of God, Madeline, as a loving Father, +whom you may always approach to plead the merits of his +Son; he is ever ready to look upon you graciously in the +face of Jesus, our Redeemer." +</p> + +<p> +"What precious hopes, dear Roland, does the gospel +hold out to us! union with Christ forever, and intimate +soul-union with each other in a world where there can be +no change, no parting, no decay." +</p> + +<p> +"Let us bless him, dearest Madeline, for these holy +hopes, and show that we love him, by lives devoted to his +service; by-the-bye, do you know that I begin to like your +service better than our own? so much that is sublime is +taught by its offices. It seems to be an echo of the voice +within. How lofty is the language of the Trisagion! I +could almost have imagined the worship of the spirits +before the throne, crying 'Holy! Holy! Holy!' and could look +forward to that time, when, as disembodied spirits, we shall +join with those who have gone before; with patriarchs, and +prophets; with martyrs, and apostles; with 'the spirits of +the just made perfect;' with my mother, Effie, and your +own dear father, in praising the God who has brought us +safely home." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad that you feel so, Roland, for I have decided +preferences for my own forms of worship; though I can +hold communion with Christians of every name, who truly +love my Master." +</p> + +<p> +Monday morning came, and with it, return to daily cares +and duties. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, I brought old Peter a warm over-coat for +winter, one that I have done with; I forgot to say +anything about it that evening;" and Roland smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"And I forgot a Bible with large print, and a pair of good +spectacles; I had them with me, but I forgot them too." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope that we may be excused this time, Madeline; +our hearts were engrossed by each other. Farewell, +dearest, write daily," continued Roland, "or rather keep a +journal, and send it to me twice a week; I want to know +everything about you, where you go; all that you think and +feel are precious to me now." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline blushed rosy red, as she found herself folded in +a warm embrace, and returned modestly the kiss of +affection which was pressed upon her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray for me, Roland, every day and every night; we +can meet there, dearest;" and Madeline stood upon the +piazza watching him as long as she could see him, and +returned the wave of the hand, ere she retraced her steps +back to the library. +</p> + +<p> +Letters from Lady Alice had just reached Woodcliff; for +Madeline had been in constant correspondence with her +valued English friends. They were particularly welcome, +for in one was announced the approaching marriage of Lady +Alice to Lord Elmore, and several hints about Lady Lucy +Hampton and her brother Alfred; concluding with a warm +invitation to make a bridal visit to England. +</p> + +<p> +On Roland's next visit, he brought a warm letter from +good Uncle Malcolm, congratulating him on his prospects +of domestic happiness, and insisting on a visit immediately +after his marriage. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think it at all improbable, Madeline, for I have +business which calls me to Scotland," said the young man. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bruce was expected daily, and Madeline obtained a +promise that his first visit in America should be to +Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +In a few days he landed at New York, and met with a +warm welcome from his son. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you really glad to see me, Roland?" asked the +poor man, as he looked up in his face with a sad, wistful +expression. +</p> + +<p> +"I am really glad, my father; I have a carriage ready +for you, and bright, pleasant rooms." +</p> + +<p> +No pains were spared to make him happy, and under the +wise, affectionate treatment of his son, Mr. Bruce really +seemed to be losing much of that sad and moody state of +mind which had so long afflicted him. As soon as he could +be prevailed upon to go, Roland took him to Woodcliff, and +introduced him to his intended daughter-in-law. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline received him with a warm, affectionate welcome; +and although shy at first, under the influence of her +kind manners and sweet music, he became daily more +social and tranquil. +</p> + +<p> +After singing several hymns to please him, he walked +up to Madeline, and laying his hand upon her head, he +said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Thank ye, my dear, ye hae ta'en a deal o' trouble to +please an auld mon—ye are to be my daughter, are ye na!" +and stooping down, he pushed back the rich folds of hair, +to look more earnestly on her sweet young face, and then +kissed the pure, calm forehead. +</p> + +<p> +"I will try to make you a good daughter, sir," and she +kissed the withered hand that was held out to her. From +this time, quite an intimacy sprang up between the two, +for the music had driven away the evil spirit for a time. +</p> + +<p> +"She is vera luvely, Roland, amaist as luvely as yer +mither was at her age—be kind to her, my boy; ne'er suspect +yer wife; but be sure that ye hae her heart—are ye +sure o' that, Roland!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, father, she has never loved any one else, she is all +my own!" +</p> + +<p> +"Happy son! happy Roland!" whispered Stephen, as he +took his son's arm, to walk out on the piazza. +</p> + +<p> +As Madeline took leave of the old man, she said, +</p> + +<p> +"You will come again, dear sir, will you not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my child, this hae been a pleasant visit; ye are +guid an' kind, an' I luve ye, my daughter." +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Clara is on a visit to Woodcliff, and finds her most +sanguine hopes realized in what she sees of Madeline's daily +walks of usefulness, and many a time, with tearful eyes, +exclaims, +</p> + +<p> +"What hath God wrought!" +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Clara, I have been thinking a great deal about +the men here; there is a very large number among the +factories, and in the cottages of the fishermen. They very +seldom come to our Sunday services, but waste their vacant +time in lounging about idly, and in drinking what they have +earned through the week. I have thought of a reading-room +where we could supply good reading for the evenings, +and keep them away from bad company; but I don't +know how to go about it; I cannot go among men, that +would not be exactly feminine, and I cannot bear all the +expense myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Would it not be well, Madeline, first to bring the +matter before some of the gentlemen of the neighborhood?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is exactly the way, Aunt Clara; I'll send for +Roland, he shall make the speech—I'll give notice in the +Sunday-school, and then I'll send notices around to the +principal gentlemen, to meet at the Sunday-school room." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline was full of her new plan, and put it into +practice immediately—notifying the Sunday-school, sending +for Roland, and canvassing the neighborhood thoroughly, +by means of the messengers. Ten days were allowed to +prepare for the meeting; she talked about it in the Sunday-school +eagerly, for the ungodliness of the men was sorely +distressing to her benevolent spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Roland came—the evening arrived, the room was +lighted early, and Madeline watched eagerly for an +audience. A few strolled in, some of the mothers of the +children, some of the young ladies, and a few of the +children's fathers; but this was not what Madeline wanted—it +was nearly eight o'clock, and but two gentlemen, one +the old minister of Roland's church, the other, a gentleman +somewhat interested in the morals of the neighborhood. +After a while, a half dozen more came, then three or four +more, until about one dozen were present; at last, quite a +party of young ladies and gentlemen took their seats, and the +meeting commenced. +</p> + +<p> +Roland had acquainted Mr. Stewart with the object of +the meeting, and requested him to state it to the audience, +and open the exercises with prayer. Interest had brought +but few, curiosity the larger number. +</p> + +<p> +After the opening exercises, Roland arose. His name had +not been announced; but while he spoke, the rich, manly +voice, and quiet dignity of manner at once enchained +attention; and as he proceeded to describe the wants of the +neighborhood, and the necessity of some efforts by which +to benefit the working classes, gradually his manner +increased in warmth; and when he alluded to the days when +as a boy athirst for knowledge, he had sat on these benches, +and had often longed for the use of a well-assorted library, +there was a general buzzing among the young people. +</p> + +<p> +"Who can it be?" said Minnie Smith. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, don't you remember Roland Bruce?" replied +Lizzie Belton. +</p> + +<p> +"It cannot be possible—that elegant looking man, +Roland Bruce! then such a speaker! I can't believe the +evidence of my own senses." +</p> + +<p> +"I know his eye, Minnie, I knew him as soon as I looked +at him—I heard the other day that he is quite a +distinguished lawyer in New York." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, dear me! who ever could have believed it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Madeline Hamilton believed it—or else she never +would have taken so much interest in him—proud minx! she +always said that he'd be a great man yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Let us listen, Lizzie, we are losing his speech;" and +the young girls stopped talking, to listen to his eloquence. +He represented the wants of the working man, said he +had an intellect demanding food, as well as a body; that +he had a right to both; he believed that many might be +reclaimed and elevated, if those more favored would lend a +helping hand, and recognise the one great fact of +brotherhood—on this he spoke feelingly, for he had felt deeply. +In glowing words, he enlarged upon the advantages of +useful reading, appealed to those who employed these men; +and asked if they would not make better workmen, more +faithful laborers, more moral and intelligent, if conscious +that there were hands stretched out, saying, "Come my +brother, I will help you." +</p> + +<p> +All listened respectfully; and at the close, the gentlemen +present contributed something, those of large means +liberally, and Madeline had the pleasure of seeing her scheme +likely to prosper. After all had subscribed, "M. H——" +modestly added one hundred dollars to the list. "Who is +he? Who is he?" was the question whispered all round +when the meeting was over. +</p> + +<p> +"A young man by the name of Bruce, I think," was the +reply of Mr. Belton. +</p> + +<p> +"I can tell you, gentlemen," said Mr. Stewart, his former +minister; "he was once a boy in the Sunday-school of my +church, and a member of Maple Lane School, very poor, +very humble, but an excellent son, a devoted brother, an +earnest Christian, with bright talents, all exercised for his +Master. He is a child of Providence, gentlemen, raised to +what he is by a blessing upon a mother's piety and manly +trust in God." +</p> + +<p> +Several went forward, and shook him warmly by the +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"We are proud of our Maple Lane boy, sir; your +minister has told us something of your history." +</p> + +<p> +Lizzie Belton and Minnie Smith looked quite abashed, +hiding their faces as Madeline proudly took Roland's arm, +and left the room. As soon as they were out of hearing, +she exclaimed— +</p> + +<p> +"There, Roland, don't say that I am not a prophetess; +I knew the day would come when you'd make these silly +upstarts feel ashamed of themselves. I felt proud of you +to-night, Roland, for I saw that they were mortified as +soon as they knew who it was. I suppose that they would +like to obtain the notice of Roland Bruce now." +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, is not this very much of the old leaven?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I suppose it is, guardian; but it was in this very +room where they used to be so mean, and I could not help +the feeling. They have heard you make your speech in +Maple Lane School, and it did some good, too; I am +thankful for that. Now I'm going to prophesy a little +more—don't shake your wise head, good sir, at my folly—you'll +be an 'Honorable' yet. I expect to address letters +to the 'Honorable Roland Bruce, U.S. Senate.'" +</p> + +<p> +Roland burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"Of all the scheming little heads that ever sat upon the +shoulders of a woman, yours exceeds. What possesses +you, Madeline?" and Roland laughed again most heartily; +"how can you ever dream of such a thing? I shall never +be a politician." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I know that, I should be very sorry for that; but +worth and talent sometimes meets its reward, even here." +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, I have but one ambition,—to serve my God +faithfully in whatever station he appoints, and to walk +hand in hand with one of the purest and loveliest of God's +creatures in the path that leads us home to Heaven." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap29"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXIX. +<br><br> +BEATITUDES. +</h3> + +<p> +A mariner on the broad, mysterious ocean is sailing +homeward; he has encountered many fearful storms, laid +by wearily in exhausting calms, and steered safely amid +rocks and shoals, with the blessed haven still in sight of +faith's eyeglass. He is nearing home; chart and compass +awaken a thrill of hope and love, as they point so surely to +the same familiar outline of approaching land. A small +speck, as of a distant star, is gleaming on him through the +atmosphere; sometimes very faint, then brighter, clearer, +fuller, until the beacon of the light-house, with the steady +brilliancy of a small, well-defined orb, speaks to his heart +the one sweet word of "Home." +</p> + +<p> +He speeds on swiftly, steadily, with canvas spread to +the breeze, and finds himself anchored at last in quiet +waters, waiting for the pilot to take him into port. The +vessel lies peacefully upon the rippling waves, the air is +scarcely moving, the sails flap lazily, and the scream of the +sea-bird is exchanged for the softer melodies of birds nearer +land, as they fly low with their song of welcome. The sails +are now taken in, and the sailors are singing songs of +home; the air is full of music, for the murmurs of the +gentle waves, the light spray dashing slowly against the +sides of the vessel, whose rocking lullaby is scarcely +perceptible—all murmur harmonious notes to the hearts of the +weary, home-sick mariners; the captain, assured that "all's +well," goes below to dream of home, of clasping arms, warm +kisses, and words of holy love. They have reached the +latitude of a seaman's blessedness, "near home." Thus +far, too, has Roland sailed upon the voyage of life; his +bark has ridden safely through storm and calm, through +rock and shoal, with the beacon light of faith and hope +always shining bright above him, and looking thus steadily +aloft, he, too, has reached the quiet waters of the +"Beatitudes." He reads much in that sweet chapter of "the +sermon on the mount," and, from the depths of a blissful +experience, feels what Jesus means when he pronounces the +word "blessed" upon the children of his love. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Blessed</i> are the poor in spirit, for theirs <i>is</i> the kingdom +of heaven." +</p> + +<p> +The poor before God—has he not realized the blessedness +of that kingdom, which is joy, and peace, and love in the +Holy Ghost? He loves to dwell separately on these +beatitudes; as the miser lingers over the "unrighteous +mammon," so Roland muses over his heavenly treasures, fearful +lest one should fade away from the grasp of faith. +</p> + +<p> +"Blessed are the meek," says our dear Lord, "for they +shall inherit the earth." +</p> + +<p> +The meek—those contented with their earthly lot, only +anxious for the favor of God—they shall truly inherit the +earth now with their spirit of contentment, and hereafter, +in the days of millennial glory, when the saints shall truly +possess the renovated earth—and with his spiritual growth +hath not the Master blessed Roland in basket and in +store? and even if he had not, would not the spirit of humble +piety be to him a richer boon than the wealth of the Indies? +</p> + +<p> +He has reached these quiet waters, and dwells among +the regions of the "Beatitudes." Is not Roland happy? and +may not all who thus cast themselves upon the good +providence of God, while steadily pursuing duty, be equally +blessed? Jesus' words have meaning; let us prove their +power. +</p> + +<p> +Roland is the same active, energetic, earnest man, rising +daily in public estimation, while seeking only the favor of +God. Days of deeper trial may yet come, but God in his +wisdom chooses their time. While walking in the footsteps +of Daniel, nought is needed but the discipline of Daniel. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know, Roland, that they are talking of you for +the Legislature?" +</p> + +<p> +The question was addressed to him by Edmund Norris, +who was greatly interested in his friend's success. +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense, Edmund!" was the reply; "I should never +please the politicians. I am no party man, and would +never stoop to the tricks of men in office." +</p> + +<p> +"There is really a chance for you, Roland, and I don't +see why corrupt men are to be allowed always to rule the +land. I think high-minded, honorable men are greatly to +blame for not taking more interest in public affairs; they +could do much towards purifying our halls of legislature, +as well as our courts of justice." +</p> + +<p> +"I have plenty to do here in my private walk, Edmund, +and can thus exercise a silent influence among my fellow-men." +</p> + +<p> +In a few days, Roland found that all was not merely +Edmund's talk, for a party of gentlemen waited upon him +to see if he would allow his name to be used in the next +election. He listened quietly to their propositions. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you expect, gentlemen, of your representative?" +</p> + +<p> +"That he would by all measures advance the prosperity +of his State." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled, saying— +</p> + +<p> +"According to the views of a certain party." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly; he is bound to represent those who send +him." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I suppose that he is expected to attend to many +little matters of private interest; that is frequently attended +with much trouble. What will he receive for such offices?" +</p> + +<p> +"He may pocket many a cool five hundred in this way, +if he is only accommodating." +</p> + +<p> +"Supposing that his judgment and conscience should +both be opposed to the views of his constituents on some +points, what would be expected?" +</p> + +<p> +"That he would waive such inconvenient things in the +way of politics, and always consult the interest of his +party." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you expect him, in a free country, to give up his +own independence. Is that so, gentlemen?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course—he cannot be a public man, and preserve +that. The independence of a politician is only read in the +Constitution of the land; it has no real existence—he has +sold it." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, farewell, gentlemen—I am a foreigner by birth, +but an American by choice. I revere the men who framed +our Constitution, and am willing to be guided by its noble +teachings. I cannot consent to your proposition of making +it a dead letter in my case, nor can I surrender the +inestimable rights of manhood. I thank God for my conscience, +and my judgment; I will not hoodwink the one, nor act +against the dictates of the other. I am a <i>freeman</i>. If +ever I fill a public station, it will be as an independent +man, to advance the right, the just, the true only. I am +not your man; I would be of no earthly use to +individuals—the 'cool five hundred' cannot buy me." +</p> + +<p> +"We are sorry, Mr. Bruce," replied the speaker; "with +your talents, you could reach any post of honor that you +choose; but with your romantic notions, you are throwing +away a golden opportunity." +</p> + +<p> +"This would be no post of honor to me, gentlemen; +there are others more private, more influential, that involve +no sacrifice of principle; I have chosen such, and have the +sweet approval of my conscience; I cannot barter that for +any earthly good," and he laid his hand impressively upon +his heart. +</p> + +<p> +"We honor your integrity, but it will not do in a world +like ours—good-morning, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-morning, gentlemen—God is wiser than man, and +by his laws will I be governed." +</p> + +<p> +Edmund was disappointed at the result of this interview. +</p> + +<p> +"And so you rejected the offers that I spoke of, Roland; +I think that you carry your high-flown notions too far—you +might easily have accepted such a position, and not have +compromised your principles in the least." +</p> + +<p> +"We differ in sentiment, Edmund; and the day will +come, when you will agree with me—experience is a great +teacher." +</p> + +<p> +"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." This +beatitude spoke volumes to Roland that night, as he +sank to quiet slumbers; for peace soon follows sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +In the exercise of Christian principles, Roland was a +happy, prosperous man, for wealth smiled upon him in the +daily increase of his practice; and though he occupied no +place of public trust, he was much more honored in the +omission than in the gift. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Madeline is now in New York, whither she has been +called on important business. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall we take a sail this evening?" asked Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing would be more pleasant; let us go early, and +return by moonlight." +</p> + +<p> +The sail on the quiet waters of the bay was one of those +periods of heart communion which are among the purest +joys of earthly intercourse. +</p> + +<p> +The world shut out; the low whispers of this evening +hour, as they sat apart, indicated the deep feelings of each +young heart. +</p> + +<p> +They sat watching the passing vessels, some sailing out, +others coming in from the sea; craft of all kinds and sizes +gliding by them so gently, all containing pilgrims on the +waters of life. +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, do you ever think how much these little boats +resemble the voyagers of mortality?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Madeline, all bound to the ocean of eternity; we +are sailing with them, dearest—it seems very sweet and +peaceful—what a sad thought that so many may be speeding +on the voyage which ends in a fearful wreck at last!" +</p> + +<p> +"How blessed are we, dear Roland, to feel that our little +barks are guided by a gracious hand! for we know who +steers them on so safely." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you realize the presence of that precious Saviour, +Madeline? I have been lately studying the sermon on the +mount; have you ever thought, dear, of the full meaning +of the Saviour's word, 'blessed?'" +</p> + +<p> +"And I have been reading in the same, dear Roland; and +think that I am learning, slowly, the meaning of those +precious 'beatitudes'—as I bend at my daily devotions, +and read the holy book; as I walk among my poor +dependents in the green lanes at Woodcliff, or worship in the +school-room of Maple Lane, I feel the murmured +benediction, and know now what Jesus means, when he says +those precious words, 'blessed' are they who exercise these +holy emotions." +</p> + +<p> +Roland sat in silence for a few moments, and then continued, +</p> + +<p> +"Our little barks are now in quiet waters, dearest—why +should they be any longer separated? or rather when shall +we occupy the same vessel, and sail together on the same +stream?" and Roland took the little hand within his own, +and listened for the answer. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled archly, as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Our present life is very happy, Roland; the married +people say that these are the happiest days—why then +should we wish to bring them to a close so soon?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really think so, Madeline?" said Roland, as she +turned away to hide her blushes, "do you believe any such +thing? don't you know that we would both be happier +were our destinies united? and then, dearest, remember, +that I have no home,—a parlor and two rooms are not +home, Madeline. I brought you here this afternoon just to +ask, how much longer must I go alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is a shame to tease you, Roland, but the old feeling +of mischief is very tempting—now, I suppose, that you +want to bring my liberty to an end; to put aside the lover, +with his sweet whispered words, and to begin the husband, +with his tones of authority. 'Madam, I wish it so,' and +'Madam, you must not do this,' and 'Madam, you must +not do that;' is it not so, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +He understood the little artifice, by which she evaded an +answer, and smiled again, as he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"You are afraid of no such thing, Madeline; you know +your power, and the deep love that fills my heart; do not +trifle when I want a serious answer." +</p> + +<p> +She laid her little hand quietly within the grasp of the +strong, firm man, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Take me, Roland, I am yours for life—through weal +and woe, in sickness and in health, until death us do part." +</p> + +<p> +The moment of levity had passed. +</p> + +<p> +"When shall I call you mine?" +</p> + +<p> +"In two months from to-day, Roland; will that suffice, +dearest?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why should it be two months? I cannot understand +what you ladies have to do—what is the use of such an +extensive wardrobe? It is just as easily made up +afterwards. I could be ready in a day, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"And you really would deprive me, Roland, of a young +bride's pleasure—it is such a joy to prepare a wedding +trousseau!" +</p> + +<p> +"You don't think so, Madeline, for I know no one who +cares so little for the fripperies of dress as you—now what +is the reason for delay?" +</p> + +<p> +"To be serious then, Roland; Aunt Matilda has some +peculiar notions about these matters; and since I have not +pleased her altogether in my choice, I think it is due to her +to consult her wishes in this one thing—she would never +hear to any thing else, I know." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then! be it so—two months from to-day; that is +the decision." +</p> + +<p> +The spirit of mischief returned. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you pity the poor thing, with the proud spirit, +giving herself away to such a grand Mogul, with all his +strict notions of right and wrong? I am afraid that she +will beat her wings against the bars of her cage." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really fear the bonds of matrimony, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"With you, dearest? no—you may lead me where you +will; for I know that it will always be in paths of holiness +and love." +</p> + +<p> +"Here then is the token of our union!" and Roland +placed upon her finger the ring of betrothal, and then +kissed the dear hand that lay so confidingly clasped in his. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Madeline, I have something to show you; it is +too dark to read it now, but I can tell you what it is. I +want you only—Madeline, without her dowry; she only +is the object of my love. I have drawn up this document, +in which all your estate is secured to yourself forever; so +that I can be wholly cleared from any suspicions of sordid +motives—your wealth has always been a drawback, and +long withheld me from seeking your hand." +</p> + +<p> +"And do you think, Roland Bruce, that I would marry a +man whom I could not trust with everything that is mine? +What! separate interests between man and wife! are we +not one, Roland? one in love, in hope, in pursuits, one in +the hopes of a better world; and shall we not be one in +all things pertaining to this mortal life? No, Roland—what +is mine, is yours—yours to direct, to manage, to +control—we are one in all things, Roland, I will hear to +nothing else; I do not want to read that paper; I am blushing +while I think of it." +</p> + +<p> +Roland was silent a moment, from the depth of his +emotions. +</p> + +<p> +"Your confidence shall never be abused, my own precious +Madeline; we will try to use these gifts as stewards +for our Master, and I feel assured that he will bless us." +</p> + +<p> +The return home was full of sweet reflections; for amid +the music that swelled, and then died away from passing +pleasure boats, there came a voice over the quiet waters, +which pronounced them "blessed," and they heard its +blissful whispers. +</p> + +<p> +We will leave them to this hour that comes but once in +mortal life; and will not anticipate the discipline that must +purge away the remaining dross of imperfect human +character, until presented faultless before the throne of God. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda resigns herself to the necessity of such a +marriage, and busies herself in the preparations, for she is +determined that there shall be a grand wedding at Woodcliff. +There is much to do, for the young pair are to sail +for Europe immediately after their marriage. Lavinia +Raymond is shocked at such a degradation, and declares +that neither she nor her mother will countenance such a +sacrifice by their presence; Harry Castleton and Charles +Davenport are disgusted when they hear of their new +cousin, and several young ladies around Woodcliff utterly +surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"It may do for Madeline Hamilton to take such a step, +she can afford it," said Lizzie Belton; "but for any of us, +we should lose caste at once." +</p> + +<p> +The wedding day arrived. It was a bright and beautiful +morning in the month of May. Madeline arose early, and +sat quietly at her chamber window looking out upon the +beauteous prospect;—all creation smiled; so felt the young +girl—the birds carolled their sweetest songs around the +window; flowers bloomed everywhere in rich abundance; +the sky was clear, for but a few fleecy clouds floated over +the landscape. +</p> + +<p> +"This is my wedding day," whispered Madeline, "would +that my dear father were here to bless his daughter; but +he is in a better land, where there is neither marrying nor +giving in marriage." +</p> + +<p> +She bowed her head, and prayed in solemn silence for +herself, and for him who was henceforth to be her partner +in the journey of life; and after the sweet hour of +communion with God, descended to the breakfast room; the only +marks of emotion visible, the blushing cheek, quivering lip, +and dewy eyes. George Stanley and Helen Thornly, with +Edmund Norris and Lucy Edmunds, acted as groomsmen +and bridesmaids. +</p> + +<p> +We need not say that the bride was lovely, nor the groom +imposing in his appearance—a full flowing dress of white +satin, and a cloud of exquisite lace, through which gleamed +diamonds and orange blossoms, enveloped the fair bride. +</p> + +<p> +The Bishop of the diocese officiated; for as yet, there +was no minister settled in the neighborhood. It was no +empty ceremony of mere show for Madeline—she would +have prefered a more quiet wedding—but almost unconscious +of the presence of so many, she took her solemn +vow before God. A sweet smile of happiness played around +her mouth, bright rose-tints shone through the bridal veil, +and the eyes, when raised to her husband's face, expressed +pure and holy confidence, with perfect love. Roland's +deportment was calm, dignified, reverential—he looked upon +the fair being at his side, as one committed to his love by +God himself, and deeply solemn were the vows made on +that day, before the marriage altar. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's first glance was for Roland's father, who was +standing near. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring him here, Roland." She took the pale hand, and +presented her cheek to him, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"Love me, dear father, you have a daughter now;" and +Stephen Bruce looked down upon the fair face and smiled +sadly, as he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Be happy, my dear children, happier than I hae been." +</p> + +<p> +George Stanley was to be ordained in the autumn; and +the married pair looked on quietly, pleased on seeing +so many indications of an incipient attachment between +the young man and their friend Helen. +</p> + +<p> +"Would it not be pleasant, Roland," said the young +wife, "to have them near us, George for our minister, and +Helen for the pastor's wife?" +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose, dear, that we are for marrying all good +people; but seriously, I do believe that my friend George +is deeply interested in our little Helen." +</p> + +<p> +Laying aside her wedding-dress, they met at the supper +table as a social family party; and after tea, Madeline +ringing a bell, summoned the household to the library. +</p> + +<p> +Roland took his place at the table as head of the family, +and with a serious, manly voice, addressed a few words to +those present; then reverently read a chapter in the Bible, +making a few serious remarks,—Madeline led the singing +with the accompaniment of a parlor organ, and Roland +closed the service by an earnest, fervent prayer. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the drawing-room, Madeline excused herself +a moment, and leading her husband to the landing at +the head of the stairs, she said,— +</p> + +<p> +"I want to hear what the Eolian says on our wedding-day, +Roland—how soft! how peaceful are its murmurs, +dear!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Madeline—the air itself is very soothing, and then +our feelings of calm and tranquil blessedness are reproduced +on the sweet harp." +</p> + +<p> +"I am a little more fanciful than you, dear—I must +believe in the ministry of angels; you know, Roland, that we +are told that they are ministering spirits, and that they +encamp around the dwellings of the righteous. I believe, +dear, in your prayer to-night, that you invoked their +presence; it is a sweet fancy that they may breathe upon these +chords of unearthly music." +</p> + +<p> +"If so, Madeline, they are discoursing charmingly +to-night—for I can imagine nothing in this weird music, +with its mysterious strains, but sounds of peace, and joy, +and love." +</p> + +<p> +The only drawback to their happiness was the thought +of leaving old Mr. Bruce behind them; but a knowledge of +his sorrows had interested Aunt Matilda, and her kind +heart led her to promise to take good care of the old +gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +He seemed quite pleased with the idea of living in the +country; Roland left a number of charges with him, and it +was a grateful thought that he could be useful to his son. +</p> + +<p> +Susan Grant was appointed teacher of Madeline's little +school; and old Mr. Bruce spent his evenings generally at +the reading-rooms, acting as librarian. +</p> + +<p> +Accompanied by Stanley and Helen, they reached New +York; taking leave of them, they sailed in the first steamer +for Liverpool; and, after a quick passage across the ocean, +reached their destined port. Hurrying on, they found +themselves in the great metropolis of England; the Earl +of N—— was out of town; anxious to see her friends, +Madeline made no stay in London, but proceeded directly +to Parkhurst. +</p> + +<p> +Their journey was through a charming country, at a most +lovely season of the year, when spring flowers were +abundant; the hawthorn hedges in full bloom; and all nature +rejoicing in the fresh green of a spring-time in England. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's emotions were rather embarrassing as she +drew near to Parkhurst; and when the porter at the lodge +opened the gate, and she found herself really driving up +the avenue, her emotion was visible. +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled as he read the speaking face; and taking +her hand, he said, +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, you are trembling." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland; I am thinking of the last evening I +spent here; it is nearly three years ago, and I dare say +that it is all forgotten; but these scenes revive the memory +most powerfully." +</p> + +<p> +Arriving at the manor-house, their names were sent up; +and, in another minute, the Lady Alice came running in +to greet her beloved friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Welcome, dearest Madeline! I have been so sure that +you would come;" and she embraced the young bride with +the warmth of old friendship. +</p> + +<p> +"My husband, Lady Alice;" and Roland bowed to the +noble lady, with all the grace of courtly ease. +</p> + +<p> +"You are welcome to Parkhurst, Mr. Bruce, for +Madeline's sake." +</p> + +<p> +"How came you here, Lady Alice! I supposed that you +were married ere this." +</p> + +<p> +"I have been a wife, Madeline, six weeks, and am now +making a visit to my mother; you will see Lord Elmore at +dinner;" ringing the bell, she called a servant, directing +him to show the visitors to the room which she pointed +out. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline ran to the window to look out upon the familiar +objects; the same gentle deer, the cawing of the dear old +rooks, the bloom of the same sweet flowers, and the deep +shade of the same old trees, just seemed as if she had left +them but yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it not charming, Roland?" said the young wife, +"and then, when you see the dear family, you will not +wonder that I call this happy home another Eden." +</p> + +<p> +Descending to the drawing-room, the countess was there +ready to receive them. +</p> + +<p> +"And so, Madeline, my love, you come to us as a bride," +was the warm salutation, as she kissed the blushing cheek, +and then turned gracefully to greet her husband. +</p> + +<p> +"You have obtained a prize, my dear sir; I hope that +you will cherish her tenderly." +</p> + +<p> +Roland bowed over the fair hand, as he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"I believe, my lady, that I know her value." +</p> + +<p> +The hour for dinner arrived; the earl gave them a hearty +welcome; and Lord Frederic, who was now a fine young +man, received them with all due courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Lord N——?" thought Madeline, but she did +not ask. +</p> + +<p> +"My brother is out riding with Lady Lucy; we expect +them every minute," said his sister; "and now, Madeline, +let me introduce you to my husband, Lord Elmore;" and +a pleasant-looking young man, with a quiet face of +goodness, bowed in return to the smile of Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time, Lord N—— entered, with the Lady Lucy +leaning upon his arm; he was taken by surprise, blushed +slightly, but advancing to Madeline, he said, +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Lucy, allow me to introduce you to our friend, +Mrs. Bruce, formerly Miss Hamilton, of whom you have +heard me so often speak." +</p> + +<p> +The young lady, with a very sweet smile and blush, +extended her hand to the married pair. +</p> + +<p> +Seated at the table, the conversation became general. +Lord N—— was polite, kind, friendly to Madeline; but it +was plain that the gentle Lady Lucy engrossed all the more +tender attentions. +</p> + +<p> +"How long since you were married, Mrs. Bruce?" asked +Lord N——. +</p> + +<p> +"About five weeks, my lord; we left Woodcliff +immediately, and are on our way to Scotland." +</p> + +<p> +"You will pay us a visit, dear Madeline," said the Lady +Alice, "ere you go further; I shall hear no denials." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked towards her husband. +</p> + +<p> +"Can we spare the time, Mr. Bruce?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think so; we are not to be hurried in our movements." +</p> + +<p> +After dinner, Lord N—— uncovered the harp; and leading +Madeline forward, said, +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard no such strains as you produced ever +since you left us, Mrs. Bruce; you will favor us this +evening." +</p> + +<p> +"Most gladly, my lord; have you any choice?" +</p> + +<p> +"None at all; all your music is charming." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Lucy sat near the harp, for she was enraptured +with the performer, and no less with the sweet strains +produced by Madeline's dainty fingers, as they wandered +so gracefully among the harp-strings. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish that I could play as you do, Mrs. Bruce; Lord +N—— is so passionately fond of music; I am trying to +learn, and hope that I shall succeed." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you understand the piano, Lady Lucy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think that I do." +</p> + +<p> +"Then there will only be the difficulty of learning how +to manage the instrument, which will require diligent +practice: will you not play a piece?" +</p> + +<p> +With unaffected ease, she took her seat, and played with +much taste a simple little air, and turning around, artlessly, +to Madeline, said, +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think it worth while for me to learn?" +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed I do," was the quick reply; "you have taste, +correctness of touch, and will soon acquire skill." +</p> + +<p> +"We will come to the harp to-morrow morning alone," +said the young lady, "and see what we can do; perhaps +you will point out my errors." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, my dear lady; I shall be but too happy to +render you any aid." +</p> + +<p> +Lord N—— was pleased with the social chat, and when +he had the opportunity, said to Madeline, +</p> + +<p> +"Is she not charming? so artless! and yet so intelligent +and good!" +</p> + +<p> +"She seems to be a lovely person, Lord N——; may I +congratulate you in the possession of such a heart?" +</p> + +<p> +"You may, Mrs. Bruce; she will soon be mine." +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, the young ladies met in the drawing +room, and Madeline took great pleasure in directing the +hour's practice; and as long as she stayed at Parkhurst, +the Lady Lucy availed herself of the generous aid of the +youthful visitor; mutually pleased with each other, these +were happy hours. +</p> + +<p> +A visit to Elmore Hall completed their stay in England. +Leaving her pleasant friends, Madeline enjoyed the fine +country through which they passed on their way to Scotland. +</p> + +<p> +Stopping in their journey wherever there were spots of +historical interest, or beautiful scenery, their northern tour +occupied some weeks. Madeline's naive and enthusiastic +expressions of delight were fully appreciated by the fine +taste of her husband. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Whom hae we here?" said Uncle Malcolm, as he heard +the wheels of a carriage driving up to the door. +</p> + +<p> +"They are travellers frae a distance, uncle," said Annot +Lindsay, "for they hae a large number o' trunks." +</p> + +<p> +Malcolm could think of but one such party, and hurrying +out, the beaming faces of the young pair greeted him from +the carriage window. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment Roland was pressed to his heart, and Madeline +most affectionately welcomed to the Highland Hall. +</p> + +<p> +"How lang hae ye been in England, Roland?" inquired +Mr. Graham. +</p> + +<p> +"About three months." +</p> + +<p> +"And did na let us know, Roland! How is that?" +</p> + +<p> +"We wanted to surprise you, my good sir; and then we +had a great deal to see, and we knew that you would hurry +us on to Scotland; but we are going to pay you the longest +visit." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Malcolm took Madeline's hand. +</p> + +<p> +"May the dear Lord bless ye, my sweet young leddy! ye +hae made a noble choice, an' I doubt na will be a happy +wife." +</p> + +<p> +"The wife of Roland Bruce must be blessed, Uncle +Malcolm; I have known him for more than eleven years, and +always loved him even from a child." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked around her with wondering eyes, for all +was so different from the calm features of English +landscape. High mountains, clothed with dark, rich foliage, +and the rough lineaments of the Scottish Highlands, so +totally unlike the picturesque country through which she +had so lately passed. But it had great charms—even the +novelty made it attractive. Then this Highland home of a +Scotch gentleman was so comfortable; such a warm glow +of welcome shone upon her everywhere, that the young +heart was full of happiness, and the bright face dimpled +with rosy smiles. +</p> + +<p> +And Annot Lindsay was so piquante! so fresh! so guileless! +Her airy little figure, soft blue eyes, and profusion +of light ringlets shading her sweet young face, were not +her only charms. The warm heart that beat under her blue +boddice, and the musical voice that greeted Madeline with +such a simple, earnest welcome, gained the heart of the +young bride at once; for soon after supper, the two were +seated side by side, on the soft sofa of the family room, +quite at home; Annot holding Madeline's hand, and +looking on her face with evident admiration. +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline, I luve ye," whispered the young girl, as she +drew closer to her, and leaned her pretty head upon her +shoulder—"wunna ye be my sister, Madeline? for I ne'er +had ane." +</p> + +<p> +She returned the caress of the lovely girl. +</p> + +<p> +"That is just my case, Annot, and I can easily adopt you +as my little sister; for I shall not return to America +without you." +</p> + +<p> +"What will Uncle Malcolm say to that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I am wonderful at coaxing; ask Roland about that." +</p> + +<p> +While this episode was acting upon the sofa, Uncle +Malcolm had raised the piano. +</p> + +<p> +"It has been tuned on purpose for ye, dear; now, sister +Lindsay, I am going to gie ye a treat;" and the good man +led Madeline to the instrument. +</p> + +<p> +"Scotch music first," said the host. +</p> + +<p> +"I know a great deal, Uncle Malcolm, for I learned it to +please Roland." +</p> + +<p> +And Madeline threw out her whole soul that night, and +poured forth such strains of melody as melted every heart—even +old Lion drew closer to the instrument, looking wistfully +in the face of the performer. +</p> + +<p> +Then came several fine sacred pieces, which particularly +accorded with the tastes of the family at Graham Hall. +</p> + +<p> +After evening worship, Mrs. Lindsay led her guests to +their room, for she perceived that they were wearied with +their journey. +</p> + +<p> +"You have made great improvements, Mrs. Lindsay," +said Roland, as he looked around. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—Malcolm wad hae everything renewed; he went +to London himsel', so that a' should be right." +</p> + +<p> +"He has made this a charming room, indeed," said +Roland; "one would scarcely wish to leave it." +</p> + +<p> +"That is just what we should like, Roland, but we canna +wish for sic' happiness; guid night,"—and she kissed the +cheek of the young wife, and departed. +</p> + +<p> +In the freedom of the country, the three young people +ran about with the gay spirits of childhood, searching out +the fine points of picturesque views, and bringing in every +variety of novel plant. Roland often laughed at +Madeline's blunders, who, being unacquainted with Scotch +vegetation, frequently gathered weeds for flowers. +</p> + +<p> +The purple tints of the Scotch heather met them everywhere, +and Madeline could easily understand why it was +so dear to Mrs. Bruce; for was it not almost the carpet of +the Scotch highlands? Many were the pleasant excursions +which Uncle Malcolm devised for their amusement—a visit +to the old manse, and another to the kirk, where Madeline +stood in silence with Roland, amidst the memories of his +childhood. +</p> + +<p> +"We must see Jennie," said her husband; and the old +woman, who now lived at the manse, was summoned to the +parlor. +</p> + +<p> +"An' this is yer bonny bride, Roland! may she aye be +a blessed wife! she's a bright young bird! wad na yer +mither hae luved her weel?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to see you at the manse, Jennie." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland—but the dear ones that made its sunshine, +hae a' gane; an' a' that I can do is to remember." +</p> + +<p> +"You will meet them again, Jennie." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, i' the land that's far awa', hinney—when this +puir body hae done wi' cares an' toils, we shall a' rejoice +together." +</p> + +<p> +"Here is something for you, Jennie; a warm winter +dress; we remembered you on our way." +</p> + +<p> +"And I too," said the young wife, as she unrolled a soft +tartan cloak. +</p> + +<p> +Jennie dropped a courtesy, as she said, +</p> + +<p> +"These are just what I wanted—it wad hae' been a lang +time ere I could hae' bought the like; thank ye kindly, my +bonny bairns." +</p> + +<p> +They turned to go—"Stay, Roland; I hae yer mither's +hymn-book; I found it i' the auld kirk, an' I kenned that +nae body wad luve it half sae weel." +</p> + +<p> +Roland took the precious relic, and bade farewell. +</p> + +<p> +"God bless ye, my bairns; an' bring ye hame to the +blessed kingdom;" were the parting words of old Jennie. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Alone they stood around the grave of Lilian Gordon; +and Madeline, amid the deep solitude of the solemn scenery +with nought but the murmurs of the rustling winds, and +the gurgling of mountain brooks to disturb the silence, +could sympathize with the emotions so often described by +Roland, on that sacred spot. +</p> + +<p> +"Here were kindled the first feelings of ancestral pride, +Roland;" said the young wife. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Madeline, I can say with the poet Cowper, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'My boast is not that I deduce my birth<br> + From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth;<br> + But higher far my proud pretensions rise—<br> + The son of parents passed into the skies.'"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Here, too, was kindled your dislike of the Church of +England." +</p> + +<p> +"That is true—and can you wonder? I was but a child, +then, with all the strong feelings of a Scotch education—I +knew nothing of the noble specimens of piety, learning, +and the true catholic spirit which distinguish the Church +of England in modern days; I doubt if you could find a +persecuting Laud now." +</p> + +<p> +"It makes me so happy, my husband, to hear you express +such sentiments; for I should be very sorry to find +a gulf between us, on such a subject." +</p> + +<p> +"But, really, Madeline, in spite of all these old grievances, +I do prefer, in many things, the church of your love—it +suits my spirit; the solemn order of its ritual, the fervent +tone of its devotion, baptized by the Spirit of God, breathed +throughout these sacred offices, seem to me so much more +worthy of the solemnity of public worship offered to the +Deity, than the rude irreverent speech which shocks a +devotional, humble spirit; the trouble is just here—people +are tempted to rest in forms, and where there is not a +spirit of heartfelt piety, these may degenerate into mere +lip-service." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Roland, that is true—but do not all persons who +lead public exercises have their own forms almost +stereotyped? and our choice must, sometimes, not always be, +between crude, irreverent, tedious prayers, and the wisdom, +piety, and experience, of some of the purest spirits of the +Reformation. I could close my eyes, sometimes, and say +who was praying, if I did not know the voice, I am sure. +What a blessing it is that we can both stand on such a +broad platform, as to embrace all who love our Lord Jesus +Christ, in sincerity and truth—my heart turns instinctively +to all such with a warm throb, and wherever I see the +lovely features of the Master, I am conscious of a love +above all this earthly scaffolding." +</p> + +<p> +"There was much in the spirit of the old Covenanters to +admire and revere, Madeline; their heroic endurance and +patience placed them by the side of the noblest martyrs; +and many of them will, doubtless, be very near the throne +of our dear Lord in that day, when he gathers in his own +elect." +</p> + +<p> +"For that I love their memory, Roland; but there was +much in the spirit of their great leader, Oliver Cromwell, +that did not seem to me to accord with the spirit of +Christ." +</p> + +<p> +"He lived in days so different from ours that we can +scarcely realize what qualities such times could call forth." +</p> + +<p> +They were seated by the side of Lilian's grave, and, with +hands clasped, they sang +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Blest is the tie that binds<br> + Our hearts in Christian love;<br> + The fellowship of kindred minds<br> + Is like to that above."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +After a few moments of delicious silence, Roland looked +upward towards the distant hills. +</p> + +<p> +"It is growing late, dear; we must not keep our good +friends waiting;" and reluctantly they turned away from +the hallowed spot. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Time sped too rapidly; for the intercourse of the congenial +spirits which dwelt at Graham Hall was just such as completely +represented the idea of domestic happiness. Riding +about with Uncle Malcolm, interested in his various schemes +of business or benevolence, Roland was content; and +Mrs. Lindsay, Madeline, and Annot formed a happy trio around +the domestic fireside. +</p> + +<p> +The simplicity of the young wife endeared her tenderly +to good Mrs. Lindsay; for while she daily gave Annot her +music lesson, she left no opportunity of gathering from +Mrs. Lindsay's experience practical knowledge for her own +housekeeping. With her clean, white apron, she was often +seen by the side of that good lady, when making any of her +nice dishes, or putting up the various comforts for winter +use. Many a time did Roland peep in on these occasions, +smiling at the pretty figure, with sleeves rolled up, and +dainty fingers busily at work with the pastry and cakes, +the pickles or jellies of good Mrs. Lindsay. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes he would run in, and whisper some words +which would cover Madeline's face with blushes, and she +would reply, +</p> + +<p> +"Send him away, Mrs. Lindsay; he is growing to be +such a flatterer; he'll make me vain and foolish." +</p> + +<p> +She gathered thus a number of valuable recipes from +the kind hostess, and looked upon her visit to Graham +Hall as the most useful of all since she had left home. +</p> + +<p> +"A letter from Edmund!" said Roland, one morning, at +the breakfast-table; "he says that he envies us this visit, +for he never was so happy, in all his life, as when at +Graham Hall; there's something here about our little Annot +that I know she'd like to hear;" and Roland glanced +mischievously at the blushing face of the young girl. +</p> + +<p> +"I dinna care onything about it, Roland; it's just a +shame to tease me sae;" and Annot ran away from the +table in a hurry to attend to some business that she +remembered suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +When Roland had a private opportunity, he whispered +in her ear, +</p> + +<p> +"Edmund wonders if sweet Annot Lindsay remembers +the pleasant walks and rides, the quiet evenings, and +mossy bunks round Graham Hall; he can never forget +them, he says, for the linnet that sang those pretty Scotch +songs so sweetly is ever haunting his path." +</p> + +<p> +Annot listened with downcast face, for she was conscious +of remembering them quite as tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know, Annot, that I have obtained Uncle Malcolm's +consent to spare you just one year? you are going +with us to Woodcliff; he consents, because he thinks that +the journey will be of great use to you, Annot; he wishes +you to be one year with my Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"Am I really going!" and she clapped her little hands +with delight. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be sae happy;" then speedily changing countenance, +"but what will Uncle Malcolm an' dear mother do +without me? I fear that they will be sae lonesome." +</p> + +<p> +A farewell visit to Aunt Douglass and Elsie Gibson +closed their sojourn in Scotland. +</p> + +<p> +Pleasant things must have an end. After a few weeks of +busy preparation, Annot was ready; and the hitherto happy +party were very silent around the breakfast-table, where +they met for the last time. +</p> + +<p> +The parting hour had arrived; trunks all ready, the farewell +blessing given, and the last adieux silently exchanged +from full hearts and weeping eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Annot threw herself upon the bosom of her mother, +then of dear Uncle Malcolm, with a burst of feeling; and +was placed silently in the carriage by the side of +Madeline, who folded the young girl in her arms, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Be comforted, Annot; you are going with those who +love you dearly." +</p> + +<p> +"I ken it a', Madeline; but I am leaving the dearest far +behind." +</p> + +<p> +As they passed the familiar scenes of her daily life she +still looked out with weeping eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell, dear Scotland! how bonnie her dark-brown +hills appear to me!" +</p> + +<p> +A short voyage brought the party to America, and, +without delay, to Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +"There, Annot, is our dear, dear home!" said Madeline, +as they drove up the avenue of noble elms. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a lovely spot, dear! but how different from +Scotland!" +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda, Mr. Bruce, and the servants were all in +waiting; for the long absence of six months had prepared +the way for a warm welcome. Aunt Matilda could never +tire of looking at her dear niece, and Mr. Bruce hung upon +the arm of his son with the same old reverential love, his +voice trembling with joyful emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"I hae missed ye day and night, Roland, but I hae done +a' that ye told me, an' a' is just as ye wish it." +</p> + +<p> +The novelty of the scenes around her revived Annot's +spirits, and she was soon the merry little sunbeam of the +house. Aunt Matilda was delighted with the Highland +lassie, and was never better pleased than when she could +draw her away from all the rest, and hear her tales about +Scottish life, and scenery, and people; the old superstitions +had their charm for her, and many a time Madeline enjoyed +a quiet laugh at the expense of Aunt Matilda. As soon as +Edmund heard of the arrival, he hastened to Woodcliff; +but what was his surprise to see Annot Lindsay in +America! She was no longer the pretty, innocent child of +fifteen, with her sweet voice and winning ways, but a +lovely girl of eighteen, with the simplicity of a child and +the deeper nature of a woman. She had grown wonderfully, +but was still a little Highland maiden; the same soft +eyes and ever-changing color, the same graceful form and +tripping step, the same luxuriant flow of golden ringlets +and tender, bewildering voice. He was completely taken +by surprise. He could not call her Annot now—this +young and charming woman. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Lindsay, I am delighted to see you again; this is +indeed an unexpected pleasure," and Edmund touched +respectfully the hand so bashfully extended, and, as soon as +possible, Annot sought the shelter of a quiet corner, where +she thought herself secure from observation. But not so. +Edmund was soon again by her side, and would take no +denial when begging for some of her sweet Scotch songs. +</p> + +<p> +She was an artless little thing, and, without farther +persuasion, took her seat at the piano, and revived the old +memories with her sweet voice, now so much fuller, deeper, +richer than three years ago. +</p> + +<p> +"I ken some mair music, Mr. Norris," and Annot +proceeded to sing some of her more fashionable music. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us keep to the old songs, Miss Lindsay; they are +the sweetest by far." +</p> + +<p> +"What are you about now, Edmund?" said Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"I am in business just to please my mother; but I despise +mercantile concerns; I shall never be a successful +merchant." +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see you often now, Edmund, I suppose," said +Roland, archly emphasizing the word now. +</p> + +<p> +"I think that is very likely," dryly answered Edmund, +with a significant smile. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap30"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXX. +<br><br> +FELLOW-HEIRS OF THE GRACE OF LIFE +</h3> + +<p> +"This is a trial," said Roland; "business calls me to +New York, and it will never do for me to be running down +daily to Woodcliff; I should be half of my time on the +road. In the busy season, I shall have to content myself +coming every other day, unless we take boarding in the +city." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you desire it, Roland? your wishes shall guide me, +although I should be sorry to leave dear Woodcliff; life is +so very different in that gay metropolis." +</p> + +<p> +"I think that we had better remain here; we will go to +the city for a few weeks in the winter, that Annot may +see some of the lions that we have to show her." +</p> + +<p> +Still the child of Providence, Roland rose step by step, +until we find him occupying posts of honor and trust, a +self-made man, such as thrive best in America. Life was +very charming at Woodcliff; but Madeline felt that it was +time to furnish her young charge with some useful pursuits, +so one morning after breakfast she summoned her to +her sitting-room. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Annot, now you have run about like a wild bird +for a few weeks, suppose that we arrange some plans for +improvement, dear; that is what Uncle Malcolm wishes, +you know." +</p> + +<p> +"An' that is just what I desire, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"I have written to one of the best teachers of music in +Boston, and, as it is but a few hours' ride, he can come +twice a week to give you lessons, and you will have +abundant time for practice; then I am going to ask your help +in the Sunday-school, and will give you ten families among +the factory people to visit." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank ye, dear Madeline; I hae always led a busy life, +and I wad na be happy in a state o' idleness." +</p> + +<p> +The neighborhood around Woodcliff was rapidly increasing; +the factories had brought many new families, both of +the working classes and their employers; and the healthy, +pleasant climate, the vicinity of the sea, and the beauties +of fine scenery, had attracted also many summer residents, +who were building picturesque cottages all around in the +pleasant lanes, on the hill-tops, and some nearer to the +sea-shore, where there was now a prospect of good bathing. +Consequently, the Sunday-school and the congregation +rapidly multiplied. Madeline began to think that it was +time to think about her favorite plan in earnest; there +must really be a church at Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +It was a very happy household that dwelt beneath its +roof; but there must be something to disturb its quiet, for, +to Madeline's surprise, Lavinia wrote to say that Lucy and +she were coming on a visit to Woodcliff. A slight shade +of annoyance passed over the face of the young lady as +she wondered what would bring Lavinia, after her conduct +at the time of her marriage; but Madeline was a Christian +and a lady, and sent an acknowledgment of the letter, with +the information that a room was ready for their reception. +They arrived—Lavinia, the same vain and frivolous girl; +Lucy, the same gentle, pious friend. A handsome wardrobe, +with every variety of fashionable folly, was intended +to impress Annot Lindsay, but it failed signally; for it +simply excited her wonder, and offended her pure and +lady-like taste. Remarks were never made upon the subject +except by Lavinia herself, and Annot generally contrived +to introduce some more profitable conversation. +</p> + +<p> +We will sit down with the family at a breakfast scene. +Always attired with the neat simplicity of a lady, Madeline +had not yet learned to appear before her husband with +dishevelled hair, untidy costume, or any neglect of ladylike +habits; and yet she was busier now than when Aunt +Matilda expressed the fear that such might be the case; +for, in her leisure moments, she still scribbled privately for +the news-boys; but she had learned to live by system, +thanks to the master of the family. +</p> + +<p> +"Roland, will you want the horses to-day?" asked the +wife. +</p> + +<p> +"I think not; do you wish to ride, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; I have a visit to pay; I have never returned +Mrs. De Coursey's call." +</p> + +<p> +"I think that I shall have to refuse my wife the use of +the horses to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline changed countenance—to be refused! and before +Aunt Matilda and Lavinia, it was really too bad. She +began to tap her little foot under the table, and to play +impatiently with her spoon. +</p> + +<p> +"Why can I not have the horses, if you are not going +to use them, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not wish my wife to cultivate the acquaintance +of Mrs. De Coursey; she is not a proper associate for a +pure-minded lady." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what is the matter with Mrs. De Coursey? for +my part, I think that she is charming; so sweet in her +manners, so generous in her charities!" +</p> + +<p> +"Have you ever seen her ride with her husband, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot say that I have," was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you not seen her riding repeatedly with that +infamous George Sinclair, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think I have, but he is her cousin; is he not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps so; but in the absence of her husband, she is +much too free with gentlemen generally." +</p> + +<p> +"And so you really refuse me the horses, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do not let us talk about it now, my love; after +breakfast, I will explain my reasons more fully." +</p> + +<p> +Roland looked deeply pained, Madeline angry and +mortified, Lavinia Raymond contemptuous, and Aunt Matilda +utterly surprised. It was the first ripple on the matrimonial +surface. +</p> + +<p> +The meal passed in silence—husband and wife were +thoroughly uncomfortable. After Madeline had washed her +silver and glass, as was her custom, she proceeded, with a +dejected step, to her favorite room. +</p> + +<p> +Roland followed—she was sitting in silence before her +secretary, leaning her head on her hand, while she could +not conceal the tears that were stealing through her +fingers. +</p> + +<p> +"My dearest wife," said the young man, "have I pained +you?" and he seated himself by her, winding his arm around +her waist, and kissing away the tears, as they fell drop by +drop from her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer; conscience was busily at work, for +she felt that she had been wrong. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you not trust me, love? would I refuse you any +thing which I know was for your real good? but when the +honor of my pure and noble wife is concerned, then I must +be the husband, Madeline. Do you know that Mrs. De +Coursey is not visited, even in New York, by any of the +really pure and good?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did not know it, Roland, but I wish that you had +refused me when alone; it was so mortifying to be treated +just like a——child!" and she sobbed out the latter word, +and threw herself upon his bosom; "and then to see the +look of triumph and contempt in Lavinia's face, and +surprise and pain on Aunt Matilda's." +</p> + +<p> +"What need you care, my love, for the opinions of the +world, if you only know that you are right? It is right to +avoid the society of the impure, and it is right to be guided +by your husband—is it not, dear?" +</p> + +<p> +Madeline turned her eyes full upon Roland's noble face, +so full of sorrow, and tender feeling. He had fully +conquered; and she wound her arms around his neck, as she +whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me, dear Roland, you are always right—this is +just some of the leaven of my old hateful pride." +</p> + +<p> +"And you the same sweet, ingenuous wife—do you think +that I will ever allow any thing to approach you, Madeline, +that can even breathe upon your reputation, or your +happiness? now, darling—be comforted;" and he kissed +again and again the half-smiling, tearful face. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline began to laugh, a little hysterically, at first, but +at last the showers passed away, and she was herself +again. +</p> + +<p> +Opening her secretary, she took out a draft of a church, +which she had brought from England, a copy of the pretty +Gothic building at Parkhurst. +</p> + +<p> +"I want to ask your advice, Roland, about this church; +you won't refuse me dear, will you?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is very pretty, Madeline; but I think that we must +have something added that is a little more useful." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes! it wants a Sunday-school—we cannot have +that in a building like this, without spoiling the +proportions." +</p> + +<p> +"We can have a building by itself of the same style, +and then, you know, that there must be a parsonage." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is fixed—no church without a house for the +minister; I think the time has come to set about +building—but it will cost a great deal of money." +</p> + +<p> +"I will give a thousand, Madeline, out of my own +means—I mean from my practice." +</p> + +<p> +"Can we not give two thousand, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think so, but we must be careful, dear, not to go +beyond our ability, though our means are abundant; now, +darling, come sit by me a moment," and Roland drew the +young wife by his side upon the sofa, while he said softly, +</p> + +<p> +"Do you not sometimes regret your loss of liberty, +Madeline? just tell me, darling, truly." +</p> + +<p> +"Never, Roland, in the depths of my heart—there may +he ripples of the old pride disturbing the surface of my +happiness; but the quiet ocean of love cannot be ruffled by +these little passing winds," and she kissed her husband +fondly; then rising said, "wait a minute, I must get my +bonnet and mantle, for I have some purchases to make +to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Returning soon, every trace of sadness had vanished, +and with the old arch look of mischief in her face, she +entered saying, with a mock reverence of profound +obeisance, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'Most potent, grave and reverend signior!<br> + My very noble and approved good master,'<br> + If I have in aught offended your lordship,<br> + I most humbly beg your gracious pardon—<br> + The very head and front of my offending is in this;<br> + That wilful woman like, I, like a fractious child,<br> + Have sought to have my way, and not my lord's.<br> + But now I lay down the weapons of my rebellion,<br> + And Desdemona-like, bow to my lord Othello,<br> + And say just love me well, my lord, and I am happy."<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and as she concluded, placing her hand gracefully upon her +heart, she made another mocking obeisance; the long, +drooping eyelashes hiding the gleams of mischief that lurked +in ambush. While she spoke these words with such a +winning grace, Roland looked and listened with admiring +gaze. It was the bewitching child of the sea-shore, and +the wild woods yet, that stood before him, with her bright +look of mischief gleaming from her deep blue eyes, and +dimpling her expressive mouth. He kissed the glowing +cheek with fondest love, as he replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Well done! my love, where did you get that fine speech?" +</p> + +<p> +"An imitation of Shakspeare, my lord; I was just seized +with a fit of mischief, and thought that I would be sweet +Desdemona—have I succeeded, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"Admirably—now, what have you to ask, my darling? +I know that there must be something behind this pretty +acting." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, just this—to show that we are all right again, +just take me this morning to the store, and this evening to +the hill above Glendale; I want to show you a fine site for +our church." +</p> + +<p> +"My plans were all different for to-day; but you must +carry me where you please, Desdemona." +</p> + +<p> +"That's noble, my lord Othello; now as soon as you can +get the carriage, I am ready." +</p> + +<p> +In a little while the carriage drove up, and Lavinia was +utterly surprised to see Madeline, with beaming eyes and +glowing cheek, handed in by her husband. +</p> + +<p> +Kissing her hand to those on the piazza, she drove off in +high spirits, and Lavinia said, +</p> + +<p> +"Madeline lets that man lead her just where he pleases; +I am astonished that a girl of her spirit should be so +tame—refuse her own horses! I should like to see the man that +could do that by me." +</p> + +<p> +"It is mutual leading, Lavinia," replied Lucy. "I never +saw a more perfect union." +</p> + +<p> +They rode happily along, their intercourse the dearer +for the gentle agitation that had disturbed it—but let young +married persons beware that they stir not these ripples too +often, for they may raise tempests at last. +</p> + +<p> +Lengthening their ride, they remained away for two +hours, and Madeline was happy in having her husband at +home all day. After an early tea, another pleasant ride +to Glendale, closed the day. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the spot, Madeline led her husband to the top +of a hill, commanding a fine view of the whole country. +On the brow of this eminence stood a grove of fine old +forest trees, that looked as if they had grown there on +purpose to shade the pretty church; on the slope of the hill, +facing the south, was an extensive lawn descending +gradually to a babbling stream, bordered on either side by +wild shrubbery, and fine old trees, dipping their branches +into the winding creek; pretty vines hung in graceful +festoons among the branches, forming charming resting-places +for the strollers on the banks of this rural stream. +</p> + +<p> +To the left was one broad rolling hill, rising in gentle +swells, until it was lost in the distant outlines of misty +blue hills. +</p> + +<p> +This one eminence was partly covered with fine forest +trees, crowning it to the very top; and on the slopes at the +foot of the hill were pretty rural cottages, surrounded by +shade trees, cultivated fields, and thick clumps of woods. +From one broad opening, peeps out the dearest little +miniature home, so like a bird's nest of love; as far as eye +could reach, for miles the country was one beautiful garden +of gentle hills and dales, and extensive woodlands; adding +the picturesque feature of a dark stone bridge over a +neighboring stream. The whole landscape was dotted with fine +farms, gentlemen's country-seats, and quiet rural homes; +and bounding this whole charming picture, on every side, +were ranges of low hills, fading away in the distance in +tints of misty blue. +</p> + +<p> +Viewed at sunset, it was a picture never to be forgotten—the +whole landscape was flooded in a halo of glory; the +deep crimson of the setting sun illumined the sky, and +hung his veil of splendor over every hill; gradually it +changed to deeper hues, then to rich purple and gold, +tinging the trees with the reflected glow of sunlight; slowly +the hues faded, until the landscape was enveloped in the +sombre drapery of solemn evening. +</p> + +<p> +"What a place for thought and study, Roland! This +must be the site for our church; we will call it Calvary; it +shall be Gothic, with a Sunday-school, and parsonage to +correspond; we must have a good minister; I have set my +heart on George Stanley, he has been just ordained; write +to him, Roland; he might as well come down at once; and +if he becomes interested, he can help us to collect the funds, +for it will cost a large sum of money. The house must be +Glendale Parsonage, and I think Helen will be the lady; +don't you, Roland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have no doubt of it; they are constantly engaged in +the same good works, and seem just suited to each other; +he so strong and self-reliant, she so gentle and dependent." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline had passed a happy day; and, on their return, +Lavinia and Lucy were walking on the piazza. There was +something so tender in the manner of the young husband, +as he lifted her from the carriage, and so confiding in the +deep blue eyes of the wife, that Lavinia was full of +wonder. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder how long the honeymoon will last," said Lavinia, +as she observed the perfect reconciliation of the +married pair. +</p> + +<p> +"I think for life, Lavinia," was Lucy's reply; "there are +depths of love and earnest piety in both characters; and +such links are not easily broken." +</p> + +<p> +"For my part, I don't believe in such romantic notions, +Lucy; give me a handsome house and carriage, plenty of +servants, and a long purse of money, with a comfortable, +easy husband, who will let me take my path, and he choose +his, and that is all that I care for." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline and her husband, seated in the library, were +looking over some accounts connected with their charities; +and, after an hour devoted to business, she took her seat +on a low ottoman at Roland's feet; and leaning her head +upon his knee, occasionally she looked up in his face, with +the true love of a wife shining in her expressive eyes, while +he laid his hand caressingly upon the soft brown hair. +</p> + +<p> +"We are very happy, Roland," said the young wife, "and +sometimes when I read of the discipline of God's children, +I tremble lest it should be necessary to visit our nest of +love." +</p> + +<p> +"We must never forget, my wife, that we are but pilgrims, +seeking another, that is, a heavenly country; let our +great object be to glorify God, to love him supremely, and +then we can trust him with all our future. Looking aloft! dear, +always, through joy and through sorrow, that is the +way to happiness and peace." +</p> + +<p> +"How different, Roland, is the bond that unites us, from +the cold and selfish world! no wonder that there are so +many wretched marriages, when so few are founded upon +the holy principles of the Gospel. Ah, how many, when +days of indifference and neglect overtake them, sigh for a +love that never existed!" +</p> + +<p> +"If people would only study the epistles of the disciple +whom Jesus loved, and form their heart unions from such +high and holy sources, how different would be the loves +and friendships of poor humanity!" +</p> + +<p> +And thus holy was the heart communion of this true +union. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not forget, Roland, to write to Stanley to-morrow, +and bring him down with you next week to see the field of +labor; it will be such a privilege to have a church of our +own." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, dear, it is time for worship;" and Roland rang +the bell which summoned his family to the library. +</p> + +<p> +While he reverently read and expounded the Holy +Scriptures, all listened with deep seriousness; Madeline +always conducted the singing; and guests and servants +felt the value of that banner of security thus daily spread +over the family circle at Woodcliff. Even Lavinia was +obliged, much against her will, to pay the homage of deep +respect to the character of Roland Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +The Eolian discoursed sweet music on that calm evening, +as, arm in arm, Roland and Madeline stood near the +open window. +</p> + +<p> +Edmund's visits to Woodcliff were much more frequent; +a piece of music for Annot, an hour's private talk with +Roland, or a book for Madeline, all served as so many pleas +for weekly visits; until, at last, Edmund was always +expected on Saturday night, to return with Roland, on +Monday, to the city. +</p> + +<p> +Tired of the frivolity of fashionable life, his heart turned +with delight to the home-circle of his friend, and he often +wondered if he should ever be blessed with such a happy +household. +</p> + +<p> +Annot had learned to listen for his footstep, and to blush +when his hand was upon the door-knob; always ready +with some new music, or a plate of especially choice fruit. +Edmund gradually found that the lovely Scotch lassie +was necessary to his happiness; and the heads of the +family did not discourage the intimacy, for Roland knew +his worth; had watched his progress, and saw the gleams +of spiritual life as they developed themselves in his young +protégé. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, when Edmund invited Annot to a walk on +the piazza, to a ramble on the sea-shore, or by the placid +lake, to an evening ride in the quiet lanes, there was no +opposition; it rather pleased both husband and wife to see +the dawn of a virtuous attachment, so elevating to the +character of a young man. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia brought her visit to a close, for the tranquil +pleasures and useful pursuits at Woodcliff did not suit the +worldly tastes of her vitiated heart. +</p> + +<p> +Stanley and Helen accompanied Roland on his next +Saturday's return. +</p> + +<p> +A long talk in the library between Roland and his friend +about the parish seemed to have ended harmoniously; for +after an early tea, the four took a ride to Glendale, for it +was but a mile from Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +Stanley was enraptured with the beautiful view from the +hill-top, and Helen more quietly enjoyed the scene. +</p> + +<p> +"There, Mr. Stanley, will be a part of your parish," said +Madeline, as she pointed to the numerous pleasant homes +scattered in all directions from one to five or six miles +distant; "many of these people go nowhere to church, and +if we should plant one in their midst, I doubt not that we +could soon raise a prosperous congregation; the good Bishop +of our Diocese is very anxious for such an effort, for his +family have a summer-cottage here; we have already about +one hundred in regular attendance, and large numbers of +summer residents could worship with us—we have a prosperous +Sunday-school with twelve teachers, and a Parish +school under the care of an excellent young person, Susan +Grant." +</p> + +<p> +Stanley listened with deep interest +</p> + +<p> +"The call seems inviting, Mrs. Bruce, and nothing would +please me more than a home amidst just such a people; +what do you say, Helen?" +</p> + +<p> +At this direct and sudden appeal she blushed deeply—for, +as yet, only surmise had connected the two names. +</p> + +<p> +"I think that it would suit you exactly, Mr. Stanley; +this quiet, shady hill, looks so inviting to thought and +study." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline could not resist the temptation as she whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"And you, dear Helen, for the pastor's good little wife." +</p> + +<p> +The sweet face was suffused with blushes, as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"Would you advise it, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"By all means, my dear girl; Stanley is the very +companion for you, my little lily." +</p> + +<p> +This was all side-talk, while the gentlemen were engaged +in conversation of a more practical character. +</p> + +<p> +The end of the conference was that Stanley should enter +at once upon his labors, and that active measures should +be taken without delay towards the erection of a church. +He preached on Sunday to quite a large congregation; and +the manly, earnest character of his sermon, so full of the +unction of a pure gospel, made a deep impression; Roland +heard many saying as they left the school-room, +</p> + +<p> +"I wish that we could have him for our minister." +</p> + +<p> +Stanley soon came among them as their own pastor, and +until his own home was ready he took up his abode at +Woodcliff. The church was quickly planned, an architect +and builders upon the spot, and under the energetic +perseverance of Roland and Stanley, it went forward rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +Daily did the character of Stephen Bruce's piety deepen; +his mind would probably never regain its tone, for it had +been shattered too long and powerfully for perfect restoration. +He was very busy in riding daily to the church; for +although of another sect, he was interested in all of +Roland's plans, and reported daily progress, with all the +simple-hearted pleasure of a child. +</p> + +<p> +Susan Grant, the little girl for whom Roland stood as +the youthful champion, was now an excellent young woman, +and had charge of the parish school, while Philip acted as +librarian for the reading-room; and the affectionate +daughter had actually lightened her dear mother's cares, and +brightened her happy home, not, however, by gathering +diamonds, but by scattering seeds of knowledge. November +was now approaching, and Madeline remembered her +promise to Annot, that she should visit the city for a few +weeks; accordingly, the three took up their abode at one +of the best hotels. Visiting all the celebrated places in and +around New York, Annot was pleased for awhile, but her +chief delight was in the happy evenings that she and +Edmund could now spend together. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of six weeks, Annot came to Madeline with +a pleading look upon her face—"Shall we return to +Woodcliff, dear?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to hear you make the request, Annot, for I +must be there by Christmas; and so you have seen enough +of this great city, my dear, and love the quiet of the +country yet?" +</p> + +<p> +"Luve it, Madeline! I dinna ken how I could e'er be +happy in a great city. Sic a bustle, an' sic a round o' folly, +I ne'er could endure." +</p> + +<p> +"And what, then, will you and Edmund do? You know +his business is in New York." +</p> + +<p> +Annot hung her pretty head, and blushed as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +"There is nae positive bond between us, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"Not that of devoted hearts, Annot?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did na say that exactly; but it wud na be right to +make an engagement o' that sort without Uncle Malcolm +an' dear mother's consent." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you ever written to them, dear, upon the subject?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, Madeline! I ne'er hae ony secrets frae them; +they want us baith to wait until Edmund sees Uncle +Malcolm. I hae been here noo quite a year. I canna gae +hame alone. In the spring, Mrs. Norris, Jessie, an' +Edmund, are all going to Europe, an' I shall accompany +them." +</p> + +<p> +"You have every prospect of happiness with Edmund +Norris, but I don't know what Uncle Malcolm will say +about parting with his darling niece." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it na strange, Madeline, that I could feel willing to +leave dear Uncle Malcolm, the guid friend o' a lifetime, an' +my precious mother, who has luved me sae fondly, to come +awa' wi' a stranger, that I hae only kenned intimately for +one year? and yet I am willing; I could go ony where wi' +Edmund, to the north or south pole. Does it na seem +amaist a shame, Madeline, to say sae?" and Annot blushed +rosy red, as she hung her head down bashfully. +</p> + +<p> +"I know all about that, Annot—it is not strange, dear, +for does not the Bible say, that a 'man shall leave his father +and mother, and cleave to his wife, and they twain shall be +one flesh?' and it is just the same with the wife; so don't +distress yourself, little dear; it is the ordering of our +Father." +</p> + +<p> +Christmas Eve at Woodcliff—what a bright, happy time! +The parlors, library, dining and sitting rooms, are all dressed +with evergreens, winter flowers and vases, in which the +Scotch heather lifts its pretty purple flowers among brighter +blossoms; and a table with a large white cover stands in +the middle of the library, which has been most carefully +locked for the last week. +</p> + +<p> +In the back parlor stands a Christmas tree (on the top +of which rests the Christmas angel), hung with numberless +little gifts, and decorated with red holly berries, +lady-apples, colored glass globes, and a profusion of variegated +wax candles. +</p> + +<p> +On a small table are spread piles of fancy covered books. +</p> + +<p> +This has been the work of Madeline and Annot since +their return from New York; interesting several families +in the neighborhood, they have gathered together a large +quantity of presents for the children of the Sunday-school. +</p> + +<p> +They are determined to have a happy Christmas at Woodcliff. +Early in the evening, the rooms are lit, and the ladies +dressed. Madeline, in Roland's favorite brown silk, with +lace collar, and sleeves, with no ornaments save a branch +of ivy leaves and scarlet berries in her hair, and a +handsome carbuncle set, that her husband had presented—Annot, +in a pale blue dress, with a delicate lace frill around +the neck and sleeves, and a few white camelias in her +golden ringlets, that hung so gracefully around her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +Standing in eager expectation near the window, they +listened for the approach of their guests. +</p> + +<p> +"I hear the carriage," said Madeline, for it had been sent +to the station to bring the expected company. +</p> + +<p> +Hastening out to the piazza, she welcomed her friends; +Roland had brought out Edmund, with his mother and +sister, and Helen Thornly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, this is beautiful, indeed!" said Roland, as he +glanced around at the preparations. "I think we Scotch +people lose a great deal in not making more of this joyous +season; but really, Madeline, have not the fairies been at +work?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, dear, neither fairies nor angels have had anything +to do with it, not even Santa Claus; human hands planned +all." +</p> + +<p> +"I know better, darling," whispered Roland; "a household +angel has gathered these lovely flowers, and lit up +this bright festival; my household angel, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +The ladies were soon disrobed, and ready to join the +cheerful party in the dining-room, where a genuine Christmas +dinner was prepared. After they had done full justice +to the viands, Roland exclaimed, smiling, +</p> + +<p> +"And what is to be done with this Christmas tree? are +we going back to the days of childhood, Madeline?" +</p> + +<p> +"You'll see after a while," was the arch reply, as the +folding doors were closed between the rooms. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes, the tramp of little feet on the piazza, +and the buzz of children's voices, announced an arrival—ere +they entered, the children, under the guidance of Philip +and Susan Grant, sang a sweet Christmas carol. +</p> + +<p> +They were then admitted into the front parlor, and +strange to behold were the large staring eyes, and open +mouths of the wondering children, who had never seen +such grandeur before! +</p> + +<p> +A sweet Christmas hymn, sung by ladies' voices, was +heard in the room beyond, and when the door suddenly +opened, and the sight of the splendid tree, illuminated from +top to bottom, burst upon them, they could no longer restrain +their expressions of delight. The girls clapped their +hands, and the boys stamped their feet, as they exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! goody gracious! I never saw anything like that!" +</p> + +<p> +"Just see the heap of apples!" said one little girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Just look at that pretty doll!" said another. +</p> + +<p> +"Look at them ere glass things! I wonder what they are." +</p> + +<p> +"There's a gun!" said a boy. +</p> + +<p> +"And there's a top!" said another; "and such a heap of +things!" +</p> + +<p> +"And there's a whole pile of books!" said another. +</p> + +<p> +"Look at the bags of sugar-plums!" said a fat little +urchin. "Hurrah for the sugar-plums!" and the little +fellow turned a summerset, and rolled over and over on +the floor. +</p> + +<p> +After considerable trouble, they were all reduced to +order, and Roland held a hat, and gave each child a card +with a number on it. Madeline took her stand by the +tree; one by one she took down the gifts, and, calling out +the number, each happy child came forward to receive the +present. Each child had also a bag of sugar-plums and a +book to take home, and a large slice of Christmas cake for +present enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, dear children," said Madeline, "we sent for you +this morning to wish you all a happy Christmas. This is +the dear Saviour's birthday, when he came down to make +children happy. He gave a Christmas gift to all, and that +was himself. Now, because he was so full of love, the +people who love Jesus want to do something like him, +and so they give presents to their friends to show their +love; each little gift that you have in your hands, my little +ones, is a gift of love. Now, if any of you have a sick +brother or sister, or little friend, who could not come +to-day, don't eat all your sugar-plums or cake, but save some +for them to show that you love them. The night that +Jesus was born, the angels sang in the clouds over the +plains of Judea; now let us sing our Christmas hymn," +and Annot played, while Madeline led the singing, in +which all joined. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "While shepherds watched their flocks by night,<br> + All seated on the ground,<br> + The angel of the Lord came down,<br> + And glory shone around," &c.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was a happy company that hurried home that night +through the sharp, frosty air, to tell about the wonderful +tree, and the beautiful things at Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +Which was the happier? the little children, as they went +home with their pretty gifts, or the young mistress of +Woodcliff, who hung the Christmas tree to make them +happy? +</p> + +<p> +"And now for Blue Beard's room," said Madeline, as +she led the way to the library and unlocked the door. +</p> + +<p> +A bell summoned the household; and as she uncovered +the table with a bright, beaming face, Roland looked upon +his young wife, and felt that he was indeed a proud and +happy man. +</p> + +<p> +"Now first, my lord and master, as a true and loyal +wife," and Madeline spread out a beautiful wrapper made +by her own hands, and, putting it on her husband, said—"Why +it fits beautifully! it suits the library exactly; and +here's a pair of the prettiest slippers, worked by Annot, +and a cap and scarf for winter nights in the cars, by Aunt +Matilda. Now aren't you a rich man, sir? make your +prettiest bow to the lady of the house, sir." +</p> + +<p> +As Roland obeyed the command in the most graceful +manner, he whispered words that made Madeline's cheeks +glow with innocent pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"A rich man, dearest! I do not envy the richest man +in Christendom, Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"What did he say, Madeline?" said Edmund; "there +must be none but public speeches to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Just a little sweet flattery, Edmund; let me enjoy it," +and she threw her head slightly back, smiling archly on the +speaker. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bruce was particularly pleased with his nice wrapper +from Madeline, and beautiful Bible with fine large print, +and gold spectacles, from Roland; Aunt Matilda with her +handsome breastpin from Madeline, and pretty watch from +Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Here's my offering, Madeline," said her husband, as he +opened a small case, and produced an elegant watch and +chatelaines; "your old watch is not so good as formerly, +dear, and I have got the very best that New York could +afford." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline looked a world of thanks. Lastly, came the +servants, who, one by one, advanced to receive their gifts +from the hands of their beloved young mistress. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda was rapidly losing her prejudices against +Roland; but, not willing to allow herself conquered, she +attributed her change of manner to the conviction that he +really was of gentle birth at last. Without her consent, +he was gaining daily complete ascendency even over her +pride, yet she often wondered whether he were not more +than he pretended. One evening, seated together in the +familiarity of family intercourse, Aunt Matilda turned +suddenly to Roland, and said— +</p> + +<p> +"Are you sure, Roland, that you are not distantly +connected with the ancient Bruce? I have often thought you +must be; for you certainly could not have got your carriage +and manners from the common classes. Bruce and Gordon +are grand names; I think that you must have had noble +relatives in some of the branches." +</p> + +<p> +Roland smiled, as he replied— +</p> + +<p> +"Can you not believe, Aunt Matilda, that God can +choose a vessel of common clay, and, by his grace, endow +it with high qualities, if he pleases? or must all your ideal +great men be of the purest porcelain?" +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot help thinking, Roland, that there must have +been some porcelain among them, even though you may +not know it, or care for it if you do." +</p> + +<p> +"All I can boast, Aunt Matilda, in the way of pedigree, +is that my ancestors, as far back as I can trace them, were +a hardy race of plain Scotch farmers, shepherds, and +mountaineers, among whom were always found faithful, earnest +ministers of the Lord Jesus; their greatness consisting +only in heroic deeds of calm and patient endurance in the +cause of truth and holiness." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline smiled archly, as she asked— +</p> + +<p> +"Aunty, what great deeds have the noble Hamiltons +ever achieved? I have never heard of any. I believe their +grandeur consisted wholly in their birth, in spending lives +of idleness, and wasting their fortunes—which, I believe, +drove my grandfather to this country a poor man—and +in passing away from the world without recording one of +their names among those who wrought heroic deeds or +benefited the human family. Is it not so, aunty?" +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Matilda was silent for a moment, but, with a +mortified expression, said, at last— +</p> + +<p> +"You must allow that there is something in noble birth, +Madeline." +</p> + +<p> +"Not apart from goodness, aunty; for I have set up my +husband against all such pretensions." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you need not be telling everybody about Roland's +birth, anyhow." +</p> + +<p> +"I certainly shall take no pains to conceal it, Aunt +Matilda; I am too proud of Roland Bruce himself." +</p> + +<p> +"And so am I, Madeline; but I am not going to tell +everybody about his early days." +</p> + +<p> +"Conquered at last!" said Madeline, laughing heartily, +as Aunt Matilda left the room. +</p> + +<p> +"She cannot let go her prejudices, Madeline; but she is +a very kind-hearted aunt to both of us." +</p> + +<p> +In the early spring, Annot returned to Scotland in +company with the Norrises; she was sorely missed at +Woodcliff, but warmly welcomed by Uncle Malcolm and +Mrs. Lindsay, who could not but realize that she was greatly +improved by her sojourn with Madeline. It was a sore +trial to the good man to resign his beloved niece to any +one, especially to one living in a foreign land; but, true to +his noble character, seeking the happiness of those he loved, +he said— +</p> + +<p> +"Take her Edmund, she is yours; but ye maun leave +her with us a year ere ye claim her hand, and visit us as +often as ye can." +</p> + +<p> +"I know the sacrifice, dear Mr. Graham, but you need +not fear to trust your darling to me; we are all in all to +each other, and, I trust, humbly desire to live for a better +world." +</p> + +<p> +"I canna separate young hearts, Edmund; I know the +pang, and can ne'er inflict it on another." +</p> + +<p> +A pleasant visit of a few months, daily increased Uncle +Malcolm's respect for Edmund Norris, and he felt before he +left Graham Hall, that in him he had found another dear +son. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think that I shall always lead a city life, dear sir; +our tastes are for the country, and as soon as it can be +possible, that shall be our permanent home." +</p> + +<p> +"Would that it could be in Scotland, Edmund; I should +be so happy to have ye with me." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a subject for future thought, dear sir; my mother's +wishes must be consulted." +</p> + +<p> +The young pair bade farewell with the sweet hope of +meeting again; but O, how long! for one whole year! and +what might not happen? How many hearts have asked +the same sad question? +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap31"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXI. +<br><br> +REUNION. +</h3> + +<p> +The church is finished—old Mr. Bruce is delighted, for +he fancies that he has had much to do with its completion. +</p> + +<p> +Stanley is settled as the pastor, and ministers with great +acceptance. The day has arrived for its opening, the +ringing of the bell summons the worshippers from all quarters; +and Madeline, with her bright and happy face, has taken +charge of the choir, and sweet is the music which from +grateful hearts rolls through the solemn edifice. +</p> + +<p> +At the close of the first Sabbath evening, the family of +Woodcliff are gathered in the drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +"How many do you number among your communicants, +Stanley?" asked Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"About eighty," was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +"You may record me as another, Stanley, for as the head +of a family, there must be no division in that important +matter; and I can be very happy in worshipping with +you, my dear friend, in your own solemn and holy forms of +worship." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, dear Roland," said the wife, "this is so +pleasant to have you with me as a fellow-communicant; +we have been for a long time fellow-pilgrims, but this +outward union is peculiarly gratifying." +</p> + +<p> +"You must make some allowances, dear, for my still liking +a good old-fashioned doctrinal sermon, even if it is pretty +long; and therefore, father and I must go once a day to the +church of our ancestors, for that is all that I have to remind +me of good old Scotland." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, dear Roland, and I shall go with you; good +Mr. Stewart and I have always been the very best of +friends; he is on excellent terms with our own pastor, for +he is one of God's dear people, and I love him as such." +</p> + +<p> +Madeline is very happy, for she is busy in fitting up the +pretty parsonage of Glendale; as soon as the finishing +touch shall be given, Helen will take her place there, as +the pastor's gentle wife. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the autumn, the preparations were completed, +and Stanley has brought his bride to the pleasant home. +</p> + +<p> +"What a beautiful study!" said Helen, as she looked +around at the neat furniture; "such a complete table for a +minister! such a pretty book-case! and so well filled! such +a comfortable lounge! and cosy rocking-chair! I really +think, husband, that I shall often bring my work here, when +you are not too much occupied." +</p> + +<p> +"You will be welcome any day after twelve o'clock, +Helen; for I must be alone until then. I have a system +to live by. In the afternoon we shall ride out to visit my +people, for I must make you acquainted with the humblest." +</p> + +<p> +"What a happy work is ours, dear husband! laboring +together for that blessed kingdom which is to prevail upon +the earth, and at last to sit down at the marriage-supper of +the Lamb." +</p> + +<p> +At the appointed time, Edmund brought home his young +Scottish bride, and settled in New York for the winter, +spending their summers near Woodcliff; Annot retaining +her connection with the church of her fathers, but often +worshipping at Calvary, with the friends that she loved so +well. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Ten years have passed—their rolling cycles bringing the +changing seasons—spring, with its fresh young buds of +life, summer with its ripening fruits, autumn with its fading +glories ready to drop into the lap of winter; nursed tenderly +through the night of nature, until the children of another +spring proclaim their joyous advent, by the swelling +buds, the winged songsters, the smiling skies, the music +of babbling brooks, and balmy breath of the resurrection +season. +</p> + +<p> +This, without the walls of Woodcliff—within also, there +is growth, harmony with the visible works of the Divine +renovator. The little seed planted so long ago by feeble +boyish hands has germinated; often seeming almost lifeless; +hidden from the light and the sun, but not from the great +husbandman, who has watched its mysterious life. First +the little sprout, then the delicate leaflets so tender and +faintly green, then the stronger plant. Thus hath it been +with the spiritual world at Woodcliff—the Divine workman +invisible, the work so silent, yet so powerful! +</p> + +<p> +"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest +the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, +and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the +Spirit." +</p> + +<p> +The changing culture appointed each day, each hour, +each minute, on to the very latest breath of mortal life, by +the great husbandman of immortal fruits. +</p> + +<p> +Under the eye of the glorious three, the silent, wondrous +work is going on. The <i>Father</i>, planning the scheme of +man's redemption; the <i>Son</i>, executing it by sacrifice of +himself; the <i>Spirit</i>, with his powerful breath vivifying the +sleeping germs. +</p> + +<p> +And then the glorious harvest, when the reapers come +to gather in the sheaves! O, blessed day of jubilee, when +Jesus comes! There has been but little of the discipline +of sorrow thus far in the life of Madeline. That refining +process was deemed best for Roland in his early days—now, +a long season of sunshine hath succeeded, and the +deeper incisions of grafting and pruning are reserved for +future years. +</p> + +<p> +Blessed are they who wait in patience on the hand of +the wise and loving cultivator! +</p> + +<p> +Ten years have passed over husband and wife, each year +deepening and purifying their love. +</p> + +<p> +Each anniversary of her wedding day, Madeline has +learned to look under her pillow for some sweet token of +affection. A faithful likeness of himself, finely set, a handsome +pin with his mother and sister's hair, a rich diamond ring, +with united initials engraved within the circlet, and various +other dear mementoes, have marked each returning wedding +day. +</p> + +<p> +Three lovely children are added to the domestic circle; +Malcolm Graham, a boy of seven, Mary Gordon, a child +of five, and Lilian, a sweet prattler of three years, fill the +halls of Woodcliff with their merry voices. One lovely +boy, their little Lewis, sleeps in the quiet cemetery, and the +infant spirit has formed another tie to beckon the parents +heavenward. +</p> + +<p> +Another anniversary morning has arrived, and the pictures +of her household darlings greet Madeline on her first +awaking. +</p> + +<p> +"This is indeed a treasure!" said the happy wife, "how +perfect is the likeness! you could have given me nothing +that can please me better! and now, dear, here is my own +little keep-sake for this happy day," and Madeline produced +a beautiful miniature of herself, in the bloom of her ripe +womanhood. +</p> + +<p> +"Ten years, Madeline, have passed, and I can say truly +'how much the wife is dearer than the bride,'" and Roland +fondly kissed the sweet lips, and calm, pure forehead, of +the one he loved so well. +</p> + +<p> +Stephen Bruce grows cheerful in the society of his +grand-children, and seems to be renewing his youth among these +dear prattlers; his piety is becoming more and more +simple-hearted, more like that of a little child. +</p> + +<p> +Roland is daily growing more influential; and +notwithstanding his high principles of integrity, after a few years, +there is found virtue enough to send him to the Senate of +the United States, and Aunt Matilda is becoming quite +reconciled that Madeline should be the wife of a Senator. +</p> + +<p> +At Washington in winter, Madeline is too truly a mother +to leave her children at Woodcliff, and too faithful, as a wife, +to part from her husband; consequently, the house is left +under the care of a housekeeper, and the family-circle take +up their abode at the capital. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline's attractions draw around her a number of admirers, +who are anxious to bring her into their circle as a +new star; but devoted to her calling as wife and mother, +she simply returns the calls of the leaders of fashion, and +resolutely avoids the frivolity of the giddy world. Aunt +Matilda is sadly chagrined, for she had anticipated +Madeline's triumphs with great exultation. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot consent, dear aunt, to such a life," replied the +wife to her remonstrances; "if I were running this round +of folly, what would become of my household darlings?" +and steadily, she pursued the quiet tenor of her beautiful +life. Occasionally, she accepted invitations to +dinner-parties, always being there the centre of attraction. +</p> + +<p> +One pleasure she felt that she must indulge in, for +whenever she knew that her husband was to speak in Congress, +Madeline was always one of the most attentive listeners +to his eloquence, ever on the side of the right, the true +the good. +</p> + +<p> +"What were you musing about this morning, Madeline?" +said her husband; "I saw you in the gallery surrounded by +so many ladies, all busily engaged in conversation, and you +in such a deep brown study." +</p> + +<p> +She smiled as he replied, "I was thinking, Roland, about +my childish days; and was seated in memory by the lake +at Woodcliff, when tired of playing with my gold-fish, I +used to amuse myself by throwing in pebbles, and watching +the little circles, as they widened in their course, until +I could trace them no longer. I thought, Roland, of the +boy on the shore at Woodcliff; I saw you just as you stood +that day when first I met you; I traced all your course, +comparing it to the little pebble thrown carelessly into the +lake, drawing one circle of influence round the spoiled +child at Woodcliff, then beyond, at college, another round +Norris and Stanley, then around Helen Thornly, another +around my dear father through your own sister Effie, +then a broader, wider circle, embracing the poor, +neglected news-boys of New York, and encircling Woodcliff; +and now a broader still around the country that you serve, +until I am lost in wonder, and can trace it no farther; truly +human influence is a wonderful agent, and we ought both +to exclaim 'What hath God wrought!'" +</p> + +<p> +"How little did we know, dear wife, of the power of my +mother's blessed words, when she bade me 'Look aloft;' I +listened to them, then, as simply comforting; I have learned +since how they have guided my path as a beacon light, to +beckon me onward." +</p> + +<p> +A servant entered, interrupting the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Bruce, a gentleman wishes to see you," and Roland +entering the parlor, is greeted by the fast friend of his +college days, Dr. Kingsley. +</p> + +<p> +"How are you, my son?" said the good man, as he +heartily shook Roland's hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I came to congratulate you on your success to-day, for +I was in the Senate Chamber and heard your speech; I +cannot tell how my old heart swelled with pride as I +listened, and remembered you, Roland, as one of my sons. +I always knew that you would leave your mark upon the +world, and do honor to your Alma Mater." +</p> + +<p> +"I can never cease to thank you, Dr. Kingsley; for had +you turned me away, I had no other resource." +</p> + +<p> +"And then, Roland, the world would have lost a noble +laborer in the cause of all that is good and true." +</p> + +<p> +"You will not reject other poor aspirants, my good +friend, for there are many struggling spirits who need just +such a hand as yours to guide, and such a heart to sympathize." +</p> + +<p> +Introducing his old friend to Madeline, an hour's pleasant +intercourse closed the interview, with a cordial invitation +to the good man to visit them at Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +"Congress will adjourn to-morrow night," said Roland. +</p> + +<p> +"Then for dear Woodcliff," answered Madeline; "are +you not glad, father?" turning to old Mr. Bruce. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed, there is sae much that needs my care, an' +I am tired o' this noisy, bustling place; but I am glad that +I came; for I canna be separated frae the bonnie darlings." +</p> + +<p> +Immediately on the close of the session, they turned +their faces homeward, and a joyful party met once more +around the domestic fireside. The winter curtains were +yet up, for it was cold and cheerless out of doors, and a +warm fire and cheerful supper greeted them, with Stanley +and his wife ready to welcome them home again. The +next morning, Roland came in from the library with the +delightful news, that Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Lindsay +were coming to pay a visit to America. +</p> + +<p> +"The best room shall be prepared for dear Uncle Malcolm," +said Madeline, and she busied herself in making +ready for the good old friend. +</p> + +<p> +"They will be here in three weeks, at the farthest," said +Roland, "and we must have a nice lounge, and rocking-chair +put in his room, plenty of books, and a secretary; for +Uncle Malcolm could not be happy without his usual pursuits." +</p> + +<p> +Annot was sent for, with her husband, and two sweet +children, little Roland and Anna, the one five, the other +three years old. +</p> + +<p> +"I can scarcely wait," said the anxious daughter, "for it +is seven years since I hae seen my mother." +</p> + +<p> +One evening Roland arrived from New York with the +news that the steamer was below. +</p> + +<p> +"They will be here to-morrow or next day," was the +answer to Annot's anxious questions. +</p> + +<p> +Merry as a kitten, she was never tired of telling her +little ones that Grandma and Uncle Malcolm were coming. +</p> + +<p> +Old Mr. Bruce and his grandchildren were playing on +the front lawn—little Malcolm driving his sister Lilian in +a small carriage; and grandfather amusing himself by +keeping close to their side, to keep them from danger. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, Mary cried out, +</p> + +<p> +"There comes the carriage!" and the little girls ran +rapidly into the house with the news; while Malcolm, +holding his grandfather's hand, stood in anxious expectation +of the arrival. +</p> + +<p> +The carriage stops—Annot is folded in the arms of her +dear mother, and Uncle Malcolm grasps warmly the +extended hands of Roland and Madeline. +</p> + +<p> +"Welcome a thousand times to Woodcliff, dear uncle!" +exclaims Roland; and Stephen Bruce also advances with a +timid step, but placid smile, to greet the new comers. +</p> + +<p> +"What little boy is this?" asks the good man, as he lays +his hand on the head of Roland's son, standing by anxious +to be noticed by the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +"This is Malcolm Graham," answered the happy father. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Graham changed countenance, and whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"How came this, Roland? I aye thought it strange that +ye did na name him Stephen." +</p> + +<p> +"My father named the boy himself." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Malcolm smiled gratefully at this token of entire +forgetfulness of the painful past, and lifting the dear child +in his arms, kissed him fondly, as he laid the hand of +blessing on his dark brown hair. +</p> + +<p> +While Madeline is presenting her other darlings, Annot's +eyes are moistened with happy tears, as she leads little +Roland and Anna up to their grandma and uncle, who +pronounce them "darling pets," and the proud young +mother is full of innocent delight. +</p> + +<p> +Changes have taken place in all the party—ten years +have added many silver hairs to Malcolm Graham's noble +head, but to him they are indeed a crown of glory. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lindsay is stouter and more matronly—Madeline +has exchanged the bewitching charms of young girlhood +for the ripe beauty of a queenly woman, retaining still the +brightness and vivacity of early youth, and the arch +expression of her lovely face. +</p> + +<p> +Roland is a noble man of thirty-seven, with a fine, +commanding figure, the same dark eagle eye, and sweet +expressive smile of benevolence. +</p> + +<p> +Annot is no more the lovely child, with her wealth of +golden ringlets falling round her face and shoulders; but +the blooming wife in the first flush of sweet young +womanhood. +</p> + +<p> +Seated between the two, Uncle Malcolm takes the hand +of each, saying, +</p> + +<p> +"Here are baith my daughters! well, ye are making +Uncle Malcolm an auld mon, wi' yer bairns skipping +around me; but I hope that my heart will ne'er grow old." +</p> + +<p> +"You will never grow old in feeling, uncle," said +Madeline; "and we are so happy to have you with us; but +you must be tired; come, Annot, let us show Uncle his +room." +</p> + +<p> +Each taking an arm, they led him to his pleasant chamber; +Annot retiring with her mother, and Madeline busying +herself about Uncle Malcolm. +</p> + +<p> +"Here is a warm winter wrapper, and a pair of chamber +slippers; I knew that you would like them, uncle." +</p> + +<p> +The old gentleman sat down in his comfortable chair; +and, looking around on all the arrangements of his room, +with the bright fire lighting up the whole, said, +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Madeline! this is comfort! ye will spoil the auld +mon among ye." +</p> + +<p> +"No danger, dear uncle," as she kissed the calm +forehead; "we can never do too much for you, for are you not +my husband's dearest, warmest friend?" +</p> + +<p> +Sweet was the incense of gratitude and praise that +ascended from the family altar that night, as Uncle Malcolm +led the devotions, and Madeline conducted the singing of +the hymn. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, after breakfast, Uncle Malcolm called +Roland aside, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Tak' me to the spot most sacred in America;" and, +alone, they proceeded, with solemn step, to the cemetery. +</p> + +<p> +Standing at the foot of his mother's grave, the strong +man stood for some minutes in silence, reading the +inscription on the humble tomb-stone; then Uncle Malcolm, +overpowered by the floods of sad and touching memories, lifted +up his voice, and wept aloud. Roland stood with his arm +around the old man, and whispered, +</p> + +<p> +"We must not mourn for her, dear uncle, a blessed spirit +around the throne." +</p> + +<p> +"I dinna, Roland; but I could na but feel how happy I +should hae made her; how I wad hae sheltered her frae +the rough world; for while I was enjoying a' that wealth +could gie, my puir Mary was suffering years o' penury an' +toil." +</p> + +<p> +"It is past, dear uncle; through all her trials she enjoyed +the peace of God, which passeth all understanding; and +there is the blessed hope of reunion; do you not think that +we shall know each other in the better land?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do, my son, confidently hope to meet that blessed +spirit, purified an' full o' holy love, where there shall be nae +mair parting; while I live, Roland, I shall luve her memory," +(and he took out of his pocket-book once more the lock +of golden hair,) "that must be buried wi' me, Roland." +</p> + +<p> +None asked where Uncle Malcolm had been, for the serious +and tender expression that dwelt upon his face, and +softened the tones of his voice throughout the day, spoke +volumes. +</p> + +<p> +Interested in all the benevolent schemes around Woodcliff, +Malcolm rode out with Roland; and, with a full heart, +listened to the account of all their plans for good. On +Sunday he attended the church at Glendale; and as he +listened to the Christian statesman, seated so humbly before +his large class of young men, he could not but bless God +for the grace which had so faithfully directed the footsteps +of this good steward of his Master's gifts. +</p> + +<p> +As he watched the earnest look, the respectful reverence, +the deep interest of the youth who surrounded Roland, he +rejoiced in the inward conviction that none of this good seed +would fall to the ground unblessed; and many a tale of +sacred influence and private benevolence reached the ears +of Uncle Malcolm in his private visits among the people +of Woodcliff, for Roland was not one to blazon his own good +deeds. +</p> + +<p> +"We hae had a blessed day!" said the good man, at the +close of a Sabbath-day at Woodcliff; "what a holy +privilege we hae enjoyed in worshipping a common Saviour!" +for they had attended on the services of each church, and +had heard faithful discourses from both ministers. +</p> + +<p> +"Stanley seems a maist devoted mon," said Uncle Malcolm, +"how meikle o' Christ there is in his sermons!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is the secret of his success; while he does +not neglect nor undervalue the scaffolding of the Christian +church, the whole power of his ministry is to lead sinners +to build their hopes upon the corner-stone, Christ Jesus our +Lord." +</p> + +<p> +"It seems to me, Roland, when the heart is filled with +luve to the Master, an' a sense o' the danger o' immortal +souls, men canna spend their time in preaching sae meikle +on these minor things. I hae felt, syne I hae been amang +ye, perfect communion o' spirit, for I hae heard naught but +Jesus, an' him crucified." +</p> + +<p> +"I have often thought, dear uncle, how sweet is this +communion of saints! How blessed is the feeling that +every Sunday so many pilgrims are worshipping the dear +Redeemer in the great cathedrals of vast cities, and the +lowly temples of the village lanes of good old England; the +solemn worship of its ancient church mingles with that of +its American child, throughout the length and breadth of +this vast country; while the prayers and hymns of Christians +mingle daily from the hills of Scotland, and the green +island of the shamrock. All over the world the songs of +pilgrims, on their heavenward march, roll up to Heaven; +and, dear uncle, when you are in Scotland, we can still +commune in spirit; you, in your fathers' venerable church, +and we in the one we love." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis a vera holy bond, Roland, an' wae be to the Christian +who can allow bigotry or intolerance to chill sic holy +worship." +</p> + +<p> +"Let us never forget, dear uncle, the tie of Christian +brotherhood as the dearest and purest of all earthly +bonds." +</p> + +<p> +"I could na bear to think o' parting, my son, if I did na +realize this sacred bond o' union." +</p> + +<p> +Many such hours of hallowed intercourse were spent +between these two noble spirits, so elevated above the +common masses of humanity. +</p> + +<p> +Little Malcolm is a child of promise; and the parents are +teaching diligently the first great lesson of obedience to +their children; not a day passes without its lessons: "Line +upon line, precept upon precept," looking upward for God's +blessing, both parents train their dear children in paths of +obedience, truth and love. Little Mary is a gentle, loving +child; but Lilian is a repetition of Madeline, happily under +the controlling influence of wise and loving guidance. +Aunt Clara is daily ripening for the skies. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia, the same vain, frivolous devotee of fashion, no +longer young, still unmarried, is rapidly becoming that +most unhappy of all miserable beings, a censorious and +disappointed old maid. +</p> + +<p> +The declining years of Stephen Bruce are calm and tranquil; +surrounded by a family who encircle him with tender, +affectionate reverence, his latter days are his best; and he +is passing on to "the rest that remaineth," full of calm +unshaken trust in his Saviour. Stanley has gathered round +him a devoted flock; and Helen is the happy wife of a +tender husband, the mother of a lovely family, the helper of +her husband's labors; sharing in his cares and sorrows, as +well as in his joys. +</p> + +<p> +Glendale is a blessed sanctuary, and Calvary Church the +centre of a holy influence in the midst of the homes of +Woodcliff. +</p> + +<p> +Harry and Charles have not learned wisdom yet, for +their youth was one of folly, and they are reaping the fruits, +in advancing years, of uselessness and discontent; affections +withered, intellects wasting, time flying, and their Lord +coming for his reckoning—such is the life of thousands—who +can bear to read their everlasting destiny? "Cast ye +the unprofitable servant into outer darkness." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Malcolm's visit is drawing to an end, and he seeks +an occasion of private conference with Edmund. +</p> + +<p> +"My son, I feel as if I canna gae hame wi'out ye and +Annot; I am growing auld, Edmund, an' the cares o' life +begin to weigh heavily upon me; why na move yer family +to Scotland?" +</p> + +<p> +"It would be just the life that I should love, Uncle +Malcolm; for years I have longed for the country. I am +not calculated for commercial pursuits, and I know that +Annot would only be too happy to be once more in her +dear old home; there is but one difficulty—my mother +would so mourn over the separation." +</p> + +<p> +"I hae enow to occupy us baith, Edmund; an' there are +sae mony openings for usefu'ness, I am sure that we should +be happy together. Then I am anxious that Annot's +bairns should be trained in Scotland, for their inheritance +will be there." +</p> + +<p> +Edmund spoke to Annot on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Can it be, dear Edmund? I hae sae langed for a return +to my ain land, an' I agree perfectly wi' Uncle Malcolm +that Scotland is the hame for our bairns." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lindsay most earnestly added her influence, and +Mrs. Norris, convinced that it was for Edmund's worldly +prosperity, finally consented. American friends were pained +to miss the dear faces of Annot's family from among their +circle, but both Roland and Madeline saw that it was right. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Malcolm had learned to love his little namesake, +and, on the evening before their departure, took the child +into his own room, and, after warm, affectionate counsels, +prayed with the dear boy for God's blessing on his childhood +and his youth. Going to his secretary, he brought +out a handsome rosewood writing-desk, completely furnished. +</p> + +<p> +"This, my boy, is frae Uncle Malcolm; as soon as ye +are auld enow, I hope that ye will mak guid use o' it. +Ye will find i' the stable, too, a dear little pony that I hae +bought for my namesake to ride; he is quite safe, an' papa +will teach ye how to ride; ye maun ca' him Selim, after +mamma's pony." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, dear good Uncle Malcolm; I'll try to be a +good boy, and then you won't be sorry for these gifts," and +the boy kissed the good old man again and again. +</p> + +<p> +Going down stairs, he called the little girls to his side. +</p> + +<p> +"Noo, Mary, what do ye think that Uncle Malcolm has +for his bonnie lassie?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know just what I want, uncle." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, my bairn? dinna be afraid to tell." +</p> + +<p> +"I want a pretty baby-house, uncle, for Lilian and me." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Malcolm smiled pleasantly, and, taking the hands +of the little girls, led them into the library, and there was +the sweetest baby-house, entirely furnished with such a +handsome outfit, and, seated on chairs in another part of +the room, two beautiful dolls from Aunt Lindsay. They +were quite beside themselves; Mary in quiet wonder, and +Lilian skipping about the room in ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +"Noo, mamma, I hae only ane request to mak, an' that +is, should these little lassies quarrel aboot these gifts, +please deprive them o' their use for ane whole month; but +I hope that they will na be sae naughty." +</p> + +<p> +Both the children thanked good Uncle Malcolm, and, +kissing each other, made faithful promises not to dispute +about the pretty gifts. The day of parting had arrived; +always painful, but doubly so now, as it removed a dear +family from the midst of this circle of friends, with but +little prospect of meeting again on this side of the better +land. +</p> + +<p> +"God bless ye! my ain dear children," said Uncle Malcolm, +as he laid his hand upon the heads of Roland and +Madeline; "let us aye remember the precious words o' our +departed saint, 'Looking aloft,'" and tears trembled in the +eyes of the good man as he tenderly repeated the blessed +words. +</p> + +<p> +The carriage drove off with a tearful company, and +Roland, kissing the lips and encircling the wife with his +sustaining arm, led her in to the library. +</p> + +<p> +"This is life, dear Madeline; there must be partings +here. Reunion, lasting and eternal, must be beyond this +mortal shore." +</p> + +<p> +Life still rolls on at Woodcliff. Roland and Madeline +have not yet reached the perfection of existence; but, as +far as mortals can, theirs is truly living—living that life on +earth which shall be perfected hereafter in the kingdom +that is coming. +</p> + +<p> +'Tis true that these are the creations of fiction—ideal +man and woman—but let none say that such can never +dwell in mortal flesh. Christ came to make such. There +is not one trait exhibited here, but is commanded in the +Gospel, and from which can be drawn grace to form just +such characters upon the earth. Such monuments of +grace have walked the earth like angels, and such there +will be again; for there is a time coming, when the world +will be filled with such lively stones, in the glorious temple +that shall hereafter be erected on the earth. Why should +not she who writes, and they who read, seek to be one of +these highly-polished living stones? +</p> + +<p> +'Tis true that to mortal vision, this blessed kingdom +does not <i>seem</i> very near; for throughout the world are +sounds of war, and tumult, and confusion; man slaying his +brother man on many fields of combat, and the sweet dove +of peace and love <i>far, far</i> away; but there are yet some +left on earth in whose bosoms dwell, by bright anticipations, +the spirit of the millennium; above this strife and +tumult, dwelling in a world of their own, with folded hands, +uplifted eyes, and hearts whose pulsations are one eternal +prayer. Precious witnesses for the kingdom of peace, and +love, and holiness, yet to come! To come! Blessed be +God! to come! And this little pilgrim band whom we +have followed so long, still "Looking aloft," and seeing +Him who is invisible, may confidently look for that +everlasting glorious kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +"Looking aloft!" blessed talisman against the spirit of +worldliness, selfishness, and strife of every kind! "Looking +aloft!" It inspired Noah when sheltered safely in the +ark, calm and happy amidst the overwhelming deluge of +wrath. It calmed the trusting heart of holy Daniel in the +den of lions, stilling their angry growls, and closing their +bloodthirsty jaws. It sustained David in the hour of his +darkest trials, and, centuries ago, inspired those sublime +Psalms of holy confidence which multitudes still sing in +their pilgrimage as they are marching home. It wakened +the songs of triumph in the prison of Paul and Silas, and +cheered the great apostle beneath the uplifted axe of the +bloody Nero. +</p> + +<p> +It lit up smiles of joy and peace upon the faces of that +holy band of martyrs who were stoned, sawn asunder, and +burned at the fiery stake, when even woman's earnest eye +and childhood's tender glance were turned calmly upward +to the glorious Saviour; and from the stake and the block +the martyr's gaze of faith pierced the heavens, as, "Looking +aloft," they saw Him who is invisible. +</p> + +<p> +Blessed talisman! sufficient for those dark and stormy +days, it is enough for all life's woes, and cares, and sorrows. +It hath sustained Roland Bruce in the days of poverty, +trial, and bereavement; and hath brought him into the +quiet waters of usefulness, peace, and love, with "the +promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to +come" all fulfilled. Hand in hand with the chosen partner +of his joys and sorrows, we bid them both farewell; with +the certainty that such a union will be peaceful and blessed +while they tread life's changing scenes, and, in the world +to come, will be crowned by blissful, eternal reunion, so +long as their motto, beaming from the pole-star of hope, +remains "LOOKING ALOFT." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE END. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="transnote"> +[Transcriber's note: there are several instances of +Madeline taking off, or putting on, her "flat". +It's unknown if a flat is a type of hat, or if +it's a typographical error for "hat". +All instances have been left as printed.] +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76570 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + diff --git a/76570-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/76570-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9e62f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/76570-h/images/img-cover.jpg |
