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diff --git a/78705-0.txt b/78705-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ca3a2e --- /dev/null +++ b/78705-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5549 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78705 *** + +Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + +New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the +public domain. + + + +[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE.] + + + + OUT OF THE DEPTHS; + + + OR, + + + THE RECTOR'S TRIAL. + + + ———— + BY + + MRS. MADELINE LESLIE + + AUTHOR OF "HOME LIFE," "LESLIE SERIES," + "TIM THE SCISSORS GRINDER," ETC., ETC. + ———— + + + "Out of the depths have I cried to Thee, O Lord."—_David._ + + + [Illustration] + + + BOSTON: + PUBLISHED BY IRA BRADLEY & CO. + SUCCESSORS TO HENRY HOYT. + + + + Copyrighted + By IRA BRADLEY & CO. + 1879. + + + + DEDICATION. + + ————— + + TO MY + + Precious Little Ones, + + THESE VOLUMES ARE INSCRIBED, BY THEIR LOVING + + GRANDMOTHER. + + + + CONTENTS. + + [Illustration] + + + CHAPTER I. + + SUNSET + + CHAPTER II. + + RETROSPECTION + + CHAPTER III. + + THE MISSIONARY ASSOCIATION + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE GATHERING CLOUD + + CHAPTER V. + + THE CLERGYMAN'S DAUGHTER + + CHAPTER VI. + + FRIENDSHIP + + CHAPTER VII. + + THE BURDEN SHARED + + CHAPTER VIII. + + CONFIDENCE + + CHAPTER IX. + + AULD ROBIN GRAY + + CHAPTER X. + + THE SQUIRE'S PARTY + + CHAPTER XI. + + THE IMPORTANT LETTER + + CHAPTER XII. + + THE CRUEL INNUENDO + + CHAPTER XIII. + + THE DAUGHTER'S GRIEF + + CHAPTER XIV. + + COUNSEL AND CLIENT + + CHAPTER XV. + + "THY WILL BE DONE" + + CHAPTER XVI. + + THE TELEGRAM + + CHAPTER XVII. + + THE GATE OF HEAVEN + + CHAPTER XVIII. + + THE STRANGE PROPOSITION + + CHAPTER XIX. + + THE COMMITTEE OF REFERENCE + + CHAPTER XX. + + THE ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY + + CHAPTER XXI. + + GOD'S ANSWER TO PRAYER + + CHAPTER XXII. + + CONCLUSION + + + + [Illustration] + + OUT OF THE DEPTHS. + + [Illustration] + +CHAPTER I. + +SUNSET. + +IT was the close of a lovely day in October, in the year of our +Lord—but no matter what year. The morning king had been heralded by +a rich display of fireworks: and now his departure caused a gorgeous +illumination of the whole western sky. Purple and orange and amber and +scarlet, rose bank upon bank, each color vying with the others in its +endeavor to do honor to the departing monarch. + +The place was Canterbury, a thriving village in the suburbs of the +large city of —. + +In a room with a pretty bay window looking towards the West, and which +was obviously used as a study or library, a man of grave, earnest +countenance, sat gazing upon the gorgeous scene. + +"Wondrous beauty!" he murmured. "The work of thy fingers, O God. Thou +hast prepared the light and the sun." + +"Shall I tell you, Henry?" inquired a soft voice at his side. "Of +what I was thinking as I looked upon that display of splendor? These +precious words flashed into my mind: + + "'For the Lord God is a sun and shield.' + +"Surely a Being who can paint the heavens like that before us, with the +sun as a centre from which all those gorgeous hues radiate,—who likens +himself to a sun, has power to throw light upon the darkest paths. +Believe me, Henry, according to his promise, He will be a shield to us +in the coming storm." + +A profound sigh was for a moment the only answer. Then the man, trying +to infuse a tone of hopefulness into his voice, said: + +"Thank you, Mary, and I thank God continually, that in the midst of my +trials, I have a hopeful wife. But," he added, sighing again, "I am +heavily burdened. I feel strangely desponding to-night. The adversary +of souls has been busy with me. I am ready to sink. If it were not for +you and our children, I would like to flee and hide myself from the +face of man." + +"Oh, Henry! Oh, my husband! You have indeed been tempted. That would +look like guilt, and you are as innocent of this crime as a new born +babe." + +"In intention, I certainly am." + +"Well, isn't that enough to make us thankful all our lives? Suppose +now, that you had violated your trust, you might then talk of hiding +yourself from man: and I should want to take the children and fly with +you. But we could not hide from God: and only think of the horror +of feeling His anger,—of not daring to ask Him to be our friend and +protector and sun and shield, and refuge from all danger. Oh, Henry, +think of that; nothing certainly, now that you are innocent, can make +us wretched, like knowing that our heavenly Father is angry with us." + +"You are right, Mary, and I am wrong,—wanting in faith in Him who +afflicteth his children for their profit. Like Job I will try to say,— + + "'Shall we receive good at the hand of the Lord, and shall we not +receive evil?'" + +"Look, Henry, the sun has sunk out of sight, but we know, because we +have the promise, that it shall rise again to-morrow to gladden our +hearts. Why can't we feel the same confidence in his promise to work +all things for good to those who love him. You remember the precious +words you took for a text, just before your voice failed. + + "'The Lord upholdeth all that fall, and raiseth up all those that be +bowed down.'" + +"Yes, Mary, those are indeed precious words. I have pleaded them in +prayer, and felt their power of late as I never did before,—and the +following verses,— + + "'The Lord is nigh to all them that call upon Him, to all that call +upon Him in truth. He will fulfil the desire of them that fear Him: He +also will hear their cry, and will save them. The Lord preserveth all +them that love Him: but all the wicked will he destroy.'" + +"Oh, Henry, it does seem as if those words were written expressly for +us. I have never felt so hopeful since—since our trouble came. I see +now why we've had temptations from Satan. We've been trying to carry +our burden ourselves, instead of asking help from above. We won't do so +any more, will we?" + +She passed her arm within his, as she spoke, and he turned his face +towards hers, with a glance fraught with love, anxiety and tenderness. +This expression was quickly followed by one of anguish, which in the +deepening twilight she did not see. And it was happy for her that she +did not. + +The bell at this moment summoned them to supper, a summons they at +once obeyed, and presently entered an adjoining apartment, sitting +and dining room combined, where Marion, Ruth and Josey stood ready to +receive the praises they felt to be their due for having prepared so +tempting a repast. + +A double pile of smoking hot waffles, buttered and sugared to the +taste, was flanked on one side by a dish of stewed pears, and on the +other by a plate of fresh gingerbread. Tea for the elders, and milk for +the children, finished the bill of fare for the meal. + +The Rector took his station behind his chair, and with his right hand +slightly raised, as was his custom, proceeded to invoke God's blessing +on the food his providence had provided, after which all took their +seats. + +While the younger ones, at least, enjoyed their meal unmindful of cares +or anxieties, we will go back a few years in the history of the family, +and explain the nature of the burden which had fallen on the parents. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER II. + +RETROSPECTION. + +REV. Henry Washburn settled in the ministry at the age of twenty-eight +years. Soon after his graduation from the divinity school,—where we may +add he took first rank in his class—he was called to be Rector of St. +Mark's, a flourishing parish in Canterbury. There was no Rectory, and +he spent two-thirds of the small patrimony he had inherited from his +parents, in purchasing a small house at a short distance from the then +new church edifice. Connected with the house, and without which the +owner would not sell, were fourteen acres of land in a lamentable state +of starvation, for want of fertilization. For years this was only fit +for the growth of sorrel, with occasional tufts of coarse grass, from +which last it acquired the respectable name of pasturage. + +To this home, the young Rector, a few months after his installation, +brought his bride Mary Lawton, as ardent and full of zeal for the +glorious cause of bringing souls to the knowledge and love of Christ, +as her husband. By the blessing of his great Master upon his faithful, +unwearying labors, his ministry had been eminently a successful one. +The list of names in the catalogue of church members, doubled and +trebled in the course of seventeen years, nor were they mere names, but +live, working men, women and children, the majority of whom let their +light shine to win others from darkness, instead of hiding it under a +bushel. + +Every man has his hobby, and it was true that the Rector had his. +He talked about it in season and out of season. He preached upon it +directly and indirectly. His hobby was founded upon this text as +applied to Christians:— + + "'By their fruits ye shall know them.'" + +"It is of small value," he said, repeatedly, "for a man to make +professions of godliness, if he does not live a godly, righteous and +sober life. If he professes benevolence toward his fellow creatures, +and will not give a dollar to save them from starvation, what is his +profession worth? If he professes temperance, and is known to indulge +in the wine cup—to visit drinking saloons, and prefers for associates +men with bleared eyes and tottering limbs, will he be an honor or a +disgrace to his profession? If he professes love to the Saviour, who +shed his blood to procure pardon for the guilty, and never raises his +voice to warn or to win those around him, what is his profession worth?" + +While the church flourished, and its members became an example for +others, the Rector's home grew more beautiful within and without. An +immense, ark-like barn, stood at the lower end of his land, at the +corner of two streets. At a convenient opportunity, he sold this and +ten thousand feet of land, to a gentleman who finished the building +off for a factory for painting oil-cloth. The money thus derived, gave +him the means of adding another story to his small house, and an L in +the rear of the kitchen; the room previously used for cooking being +converted into a sitting and dining room. One of the front rooms was +the Rector's study, the other a parlor, seldom used in winter. On the +South end, a wide piazza without a covering, ran the whole length, +including the portico covered with woodbine and prairie rose, which had +been built with the house. + +From the dwelling, the ground sloped suddenly down to the street, a +distance of about fifty feet. Access to this had formerly been gained +by an awkward flight of stone steps, and an overgrown foot-path to the +front door. In the course of time, a pretty, shaded avenue was opened, +which curved up from a gate on one side to the door, and then down to +a gate at equal distance on the other. Then the old path was ploughed +up, enriched and sodded with grass like the rest of the lawn—the stone +steps given to a neighboring farmer in payment for the work on the new +lawn. + +Another year saw little patches of flowers in the form of rhombuses and +rhomboids, and various other mathematical figures to suit the taste of +the ladies: for by this time there were small duplicates of our friend +Mary, the eldest, by name Emily, volunteering her opinion freely on the +subject of landscape gardening, without waiting to be urged to do so. + +Still later, the dearly loved home was rendered perfect,—to the +inmates at least—by the bay window thrown out by Emily from papa's +study, while he was gone to Convention. The means to pay John Pratt & +Sons, carpenters and jobbers, being turned into this channel from the +original one of purchasing a black silk dress, of quality sufficiently +firm to stand alone, said silk to be a gift from Mrs. Emily Lawton, her +aunt for whom she was named. + +During all these years, the sum of three thousand dollars remaining +from the Rector's patrimony, over and above the purchase of the farm, +had been left at interest in a bank in the neighboring city, where +it had swelled to what the owners considered a very neat little +fortune. From time to time, as his family increased, his people +had considerately added to his salary. He had a wife who was truly +a helpmeet, four children like olive plants around his table, an +affectionate, appreciative flock, and a wide field for usefulness in +the service of a Master, whom his soul loved. + +He often asked himself, "Was ever man so favored of the Lord as I am +favored?" + +Emily Lawton was in her eighteenth year, when her father, while +returning from evening service at his mission chapel, was overtaken by +a shower, and got so wet that a violent cold followed, which completely +prostrated him. An affection of the lungs succeeded, the worst symptom +being the entire loss of voice. A most pleasing solicitude was +manifested by his people, who generously hired a supply for the pulpit, +and allowed his salary to go on month after month. Then they voted +him a generous sum to pay the expense of his spending one winter in a +warmer climate, promising that his family should not want while he was +away. + +It was not till the end of a year from the commencement of his illness, +that the parish with great reluctance consented to the sundering of the +tie which had so happily bound them to their Rector for twenty years. + +Mr. Washburn, on his return from the South, finding his voice still +insufficient for the demands of the pulpit, sent his resignation to his +wardens, with an earnest request that they would accept it, stating +that his conscience would not allow him longer to remain their pastor, +while not able to perform a pastor's duties: and closing with a fervent +prayer that God would direct them to a man who would proclaim to them +the truth as it is in Jesus, as he had, though in a most humble manner, +endeavored to do. + +This request caused great excitement in the parish. All the female +portion exclaimed against it, and many of the male members. +Churchwardens and vestry were inclined to the opinion that they had +better hire a preacher for a year, and allow their dearly loved Rector +time to recover. In the end, however, Mr. Washburn convinced them +that it was wisest both for them and him, that a new Rector should be +settled over them. He promised, however, to remain for the present +among them, assuring them that they would always be like loved children +to him and to his wife. + +I wish to be minute concerning these facts, because of their connection +with after events. + +When the separation finally took place, a large number of the church +and parish met at the house of their late Rector, and presented him +with a purse of money as a token of their deep affection. No man was +more prominent in expressing his regret at the resignation than a +member bearing the euphonious name of Barnes Bailey, who had once +incurred the censure of his Rector, and at length even expulsion +from the church. He had, however, forsaken his evil ways, and been +readmitted to the fellowship of the church. + +If any one had ever doubted the sincerity of his penitence, and the +truthfulness of his grateful affection toward one who had checked him +in his downward career, his conduct on this occasion was calculated +to set their doubts at rest. He shed tears as he warmly pressed Mr. +Washburn's hand at parting, and thanked him for the faithfulness and +watchful care which had "plucked him as a brand from the burning." + +Still there was one who secretly doubted him, who distrusted his piety +and his ready tears. This one was Emily Lawton, the Rector's daughter. + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER III. + +THE MISSIONARY ASSOCIATION. + +LONG before Mr. Washburn had found the bottom of the purse presented +by his people, he had received an appointment to be Secretary and +Treasurer of one of the great benevolent societies of the day. +The appointment was particularly acceptable, as it brought him +into constant association with those who had long been intimate +friends,—gentlemen with whom he had labored and prayed for the +advancement of the cause of missions. This appointment also enabled him +to live in his own house at Canterbury. + +Though his voice was still feeble, he was thankful to find that as +his general health became firm, he could speak with more ease. As his +business required him to visit the parishes in the Diocese, and as far +as possible to present the cause of missions, his first object was to +prepare a plain statement of facts, with which he was already perfectly +familiar. This lecture, or sermon, from the text, "Go ye into all the +world and preach the gospel to every creature," became exceedingly +popular. With various changes and amplifications, Mr. Washburn preached +it more than a hundred times in the course of the succeeding two years. +Never had the funds of the society been so large as during this period. + +But to return to Mr. Washburn's family. Emily and Marion, the two +elder girls, had been educated by their father with great care. Emily, +in particular, discovered a special aptness for the acquisition of +languages, and her father, who ranked among the first as a classical +scholar, had taught her Latin and Greek. With German and French she was +also familiar,—Mr. Washburn having playfully enforced a law that there +should be a German day and a French day, when at meals not a word of +English should be spoken. + +Music, both social and instrumental, was, however, Emily's specialty. +Long before her tiny fingers could span an octave, her mother commenced +teaching her the scales upon a piano brought with her as a bride. From +the time she was sixteen, Emily had enjoyed the advantage of a teacher +in the neighboring city, going thither twice a week for the purpose, in +an omnibus which ran hourly between the two places. + +Except occasional visits to her aunt Emily and her grandmother Lawton, +the young girl had seen little of the world. It was quite natural, +therefore, that on her father being thrown out of employment, she +should urge her desire to leave home, and become a teacher of music. + +This project at first met with strong opposition. But circumstances +arose which caused Emily to urge her request with great vigor, and her +parents, with reluctance, gave a conditional consent. + +The circumstance alluded to was this. Mr. Bailey, or Barnes Bailey, +as he was universally called, had fallen into the habit of calling +at the house of his former Rector with great frequency, and when +there, directed much of his conversation to Emily. Mr. Washburn, in +the overflowing of a heart full of love and charity, entertained a +special regard for the young man, whom he believed himself to have +been instrumental in assisting, and whom he considered sincere in his +expressions of deep penitence. He therefore welcomed the gentleman with +great cordiality to his house and table. Mrs. Washburn, taking the +initiative from her husband, also treated him with marked kindness. + +Not so Emily. When obliged to be present during his calls and visits, +she treated him as coolly as civility would allow. His approach to +the house was her signal for leaving it if possible, certainly, of +returning to her own chamber. As his attention to her became more +marked, her distrust and dislike of him increased. She began to shudder +when she met the glance of his usually cold, gray eye, but she kept +these feelings locked in her own breast. Not even to her sister Marion, +her loving confidant on almost every subject, did she hint at her +suspicions and her distrust; and so skilfully did she excuse herself on +the plea of other engagements that for a long time no one suspected her +motive in absenting herself from the room. + +Barnes Bailey was, however, not a man to be hindered when he had set +his heart upon any object. He determined, if Emily would not see him, +she should read his letters, and from this time, presented her with +little missives delivered by her brother Josey, who was innocent enough +to believe what was told him by Barnes, that the notes contained Sunday +School questions. Whatever they did contain, Emily's fine eyes flashed +whenever she found one of these epistles on her table, and threw +several of them into the fire without reading. + +A day soon arrived when she was obliged to meet the subject face to +face. Her father, one morning, requested her to walk with him to visit +an old parishioner who was dying in consumption. He then handed her a +letter which, with a smile, he requested her to read. It contained a +proposition for her hand in marriage, with the implication that the +writer had her consent to address her father. + +"It is false!" she cried, her eyes flashing, and her thin nostrils +dilating with anger. "I have never given him the least encouragement. +The letters to which he here alludes, I threw into the fire without +unsealing." + +"But why, my daughter? The offer he makes is an honorable one, though +I am far from wishing you to form an engagement at so early a period +of life. It took me by surprise at first. You are a mere child, only +little, loving Emily to me, my dear." + +"I am almost out of my teens, father," she answered, returning his +smile, "old enough to decide that I never will marry Barnes Bailey." + +"What reason shall I give him, child?" + +"Tell him that I despise him, but he must be a fool not to know that +already. No, I don't think him a fool. I think him mean, low in his +tastes, and capable of any villainy to compass his ends. There, +father," she said with a shudder. "I have given you my answer, and I +hope never to hear his name again. I'm sure you and mother don't wish +to get rid of me." + +Her father drew her hand still closer within his own, gazing with a +grave smile into her face, still glowing with unwonted excitement. +For some time they walked on in silence, the rector pondering upon, +and wondering at his daughter's words. He did not think it the time +to caution her against her too hasty judgment, but resolved to take +another opportunity to do so. On the whole, he was extremely gratified +that she had formed no attachment to a man who, after all, was stained +in the eyes of the community. + +As they approached the house where the sick woman lived, Emily +slackened her steps. + +"Father," she said, "I can't stay in Canterbury. I've been annoyed +with that man long enough. I wish you would consent to my writing Ella +Sampson. You know she is in Mrs. Duxbury's family school, where a few +weeks ago the situation of music teacher was vacant. If I write her at +once, I may get it. You would like me to be with Ella, and I'm sure I +could get a splendid note of recommendation from Monsieur Rolfe." + +Mr. Washburn paused in his walk, and fixed his eyes absently on the +ground. + +Presently he said, "I must consult your mother, child." + +"Does she know of Barnes' letter, sir?" the color rising in her cheeks +again. + +"Yes, she has read it." + +"I'll go home and talk with her. If she consents, I will write to Ella +by the next mail. But, father, please say nothing of my plan, now or +any time. It is enough for any one that I have left town. I will not +have letters like this forwarded to me." + +She looked in his face, read a half consent, and ran away, leaving him +to go into the house, and minister consolation to the dying woman. + +At the end of two hours when he returned, Emily's letter to her friend +was already on its way. + +In a week, she had joined Miss Sampson at the school, which was +situated in the large town of U—, two hundred miles from Canterbury. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE GATHERING CLOUD. + +MR. WASHBURN had for some time occupied his position as Secretary and +Treasurer of the Missionary Association, and had become thoroughly +identified with its interests, when after a Sunday of unusual fatigue, +he went to his office in the city before returning to his home. It +was a hot, sultry day in August, and he had risen in the morning with +dizziness and pain in his head. Since then he had travelled forty miles +in the cars, and he acknowledged to himself that it would be wise to +reach home as soon as possible. + +There was no one in the room with him but his clerk, who, by the way, +was Barnes Bailey. As his dizziness increased, he tried to say, "I +am not well. You had better call the doctor." But the words were too +indistinct to be understood. This was the last of his recollection. + +When he recovered his consciousness, he found himself in a chamber +unfamiliar to him, no person in sight, but an exquisite picture of the +Christ hanging on the wall opposite the bed. With his first movement, +however, his wife started from her position at his side. Seeing that he +recognized her, she uttered a fervent "Thank God!" then bent down and +kissed his forehead, tears of joy, meanwhile, starting to her eyes. + +"I remember," he said faintly. "I was ill and became unconscious. Where +am I now?" + +"With good friends, dear, but you mustn't talk. I'll tell you all, +by-and-by." + +"How long have I been here?" + +"This is Wednesday. Barnes Bailey came out to Canterbury Monday noon. +I found you had been brought here. Now you must rest; the Doctor will +soon be in." + +After a fortnight's convalescence Mr. Washburn was able to resume his +labors, but during the succeeding autumn, he had several slight returns +of what he called dizziness, and what his physician called indigestion. +These were followed by longer or shorter periods of unconsciousness, no +attack being as severe as the first. + +On recovering from one of these, he found a letter on his office table +in his own handwriting, which astonished and even alarmed him. The +letter was addressed to a brother clergyman, but was so disconnected +and one side of the object that it could not have failed of being +misunderstood. He tore it into pieces and threw it into the waste +basket, with a profound feeling of gratitude that it had not been sent. +At the same time, he resolved that, when under the influence of these +seizures, he would not attempt the transaction of business. Between the +Rector and his clerk a pleasant relation existed, notwithstanding past +events. Mrs. Washburn, too, after Barnes' apparent sympathy when her +husband lay ill, treated him in a more unreserved manner than since his +proposition for her daughter. + + +In the winter, Mr. Washburn was sensibly in more confirmed health than +for several years. He went back and forth from his office nearly every +day, instead of twice a week as at first. He labored without ceasing +and with great success, but at length his wife was obliged to confess +that he seemed to have a weight on his spirits. When he came home, +instead of joining his family, he went at once to his study, and here +his wife several times found him, sitting near his table, his head +propped by his hand. + +On her entrance, he always roused himself, and met her with a smile, +but she was not deceived. + +"What can it be?" she asked herself again and again. + +Only one slight clue to the mystery was gained during the winter. She +woke one night and found him pacing the chamber. Supposing her asleep, +he spoke aloud in a wild, incoherent way. Then stopping, he threw his +arms over his head, exclaiming,— + + "Father in Heaven, help me! Am I losing my reason?" + +Then falling on his knees, he prayed long and earnestly, though in +tones too subdued for her to understand. + +After this, for days when he was at home, she secretly watched him, but +could discover not the slightest symptom of insanity. + + +In March, Mr. Temple, one of the gentlemen connected with the Mission +Board, came to Canterbury, but without calling on Mr. Washburn. +Marion and Ruth saw him go into several houses belonging to their +former parishioners. Mrs. Washburn, to whom they stated the fact on +their return home, thought nothing of the circumstance, and was much +surprised when her husband exhibited great excitement, questioning each +of his daughters on the subject, asking whether they were sure it was +Mr. Temple, making them describe his appearance. Then when convinced +that they had really seen him, sighing repeatedly. + +Resolved at length to break through this reserve, his wife, the moment +they were alone, inquired,— + +"Of what consequence is it whether Mr. Temple made calls in Canterbury? +You seemed to attach special importance to the fact." + +"Because I know what he came for, and may God forgive him." + +He uttered the words with a blanched face, but when she pressed him, +"Henry, my husband, tell me. What is this mystery?" + +He only said, faintly, "You will know soon enough, too soon, 'far' too +soon." + +The Saturday following, he hesitated long whether to fulfill an +engagement to preach on missions in a distant parish. Twice his wife +went to the study, but found the door locked. + +Listening with some anxiety, she heard his voice in earnest +supplication. Upon one petition he lingered long, as though his voice +was stifled with grief. + + "Father, help me to say, Thy will be done. But, O gracious God, if it +be right in Thy sight deliver me from snares too powerful for me." + +For the first time, her courage gave way, and she hastened to her own +chamber where for a long time, she wept convulsively. For months, +anxious forebodings had weighed upon her spirits, and had seriously +affected her health. It was with an effort she partook of food enough +to sustain life, but she had never allowed her spirits to flag. Should +her husband and children witness her despondence, they would feel that +indeed all was lost. + +When her grief had spent itself in tears, she fell on her knees to ask +counsel of her Almighty Friend. Soothed and calmed by this exercise, +she sat down to reflect upon her duty. + +In a few minutes, she heard her husband's voice in the entry, asking,— + +"Where's your mother, Ruth? I am going to take the next coach into +town." + +She hurried to meet him, one resolution having been born during the +last hour, and this was to delay no longer to ask for that confidence +which she felt that she had a right to demand. To her surprise, her +husband's face was calm, almost peaceful. + +Observing traces of tears on her cheek, he put his arm tenderly about +her kissing her affectionately. + +"Don't fear, my poor darling," he said. "Our sympathizing Saviour knows +all our trials. I have been sadly wanting in faith, but I am comforted +now by His gracious promises to His children." + +"I'm sure I should feel better, Henry, if I knew the worst. I dread +something, I know not what." + +"Yes, dear. You have a right to know all that I do, but that will +not solve the mystery which enshrouds me. I have had a letter this +morning which calls me away on Monday, and I may not return till night; +possibly not till Tuesday. Then I will tell you all that I know myself." + +He took out his watch, glanced at the hour, then said hurriedly, "I +have asked Marion to go in town with me. You do not object?" + +"Would you rather have me go?" + +"No, dear, not to-day. I almost wish Emily were here, for your sake, +Mary, not for mine. Do the children suspect anything?" + +"They often say how worn and sad papa looks, nothing more." + +He sighed. "God knows," he faltered, "how painful it is for me to bring +sorrow on their young lives. But I will trust. Yes, 'I will trust Him +though He slay me.'" + + +It was nearly night when Marion returned, as she had taken advantage of +her trip to do some necessary business for the family. As she opened +the door into the sitting room, it was evident something had occurred +to excite her. Though less impulsive than Emily, indeed she was usually +quite calm, now her cheeks were crimson and her eyes flashing, while +her whole appearance, as she tossed her travelling bag into the chair, +betokened strong and perhaps angry emotion. + +"I wish I hadn't gone to town," she exclaimed, in answer to three pairs +of astonished eyes fixed full upon her. "I was never so vexed in all +my life, not for myself, but for papa: poor, dear papa. He acted like +a saint through it all. Oh, dear! I didn't know there were such horrid +people in Canterbury. Mamma, what have we done that our old friends +treat us so?" + +"Do explain yourself, Marion. Treat us how?" + +"Well, I'll try to tell you,—but I'm afraid I've done your shopping all +wrong. I couldn't keep my mind on my errands a minute, and if I hadn't +had your memorandum, I shouldn't have remembered half." + +"Don't talk about memorandums," cried Ruth, impatiently. "You see how +pale mamma is. You ought to tell her right off." + +"I'm going to as soon as I get my breath. Oh, mamma, I'm so sorry for +you!"—as she noticed her mother putting her trembling hands to her +heart. "Perhaps I'd better not say any more." + +"Go on," came feebly from the white lips. "Is your father safe?" + +"Oh, yes. There is nothing the matter with him, only I do love him +twenty thousand times better than ever. Well," with another glance at +her mother's blanched face, "I'll tell you all about it." + +"Papa and I walked dawn to the post office, and took the coach there. +On the way, he urged me to be very attentive to you, mamma, and try +to relieve you from all care,—and to keep Ruth and Josey at their +lessons,—and to practice my music. I couldn't help thinking it was +just as though he was going away for a year. I promised to be a good +girl, and do my very best. Then he stopped at the door, and kissed me +good-bye." + +"Why, I'm going papa," I said. + +"Oh, yes, I forgot. Get right in, my dear." + +"Opposite us sat Hepsah Bancroft, just as stiff, with her nose up in +the air. She looked me all over to my very shoes, and sniffed in a +scornful manner. I tried not to care, and kept telling myself, 'She's +a sour old maid,' but when she wouldn't return papa's bow, but stared +at him as though he were a stranger, I wanted to scratch her. You know +how papa visited her when she was so sick, and how we had to keep her +supplied with jellies, because no one made them like ours, she said. +Oh, I was real angry with her, and I'm glad I was. I'm sure it would +have been wicked not to be. + +"When we reached the four corners, Mr. Morse and his son-in-law, Joseph +Gray, got in. Mr. Morse sat down by papa, before he saw who it was. +When papa spoke and offered his hand, he started and the color flew +all over his face. He just touched papa's fingers and let them drop, +and after that, he turned and began to talk to Joseph as fast as he +could. We had almost reached the city, when Hepsah Bancroft let her +pocket-book fall. I saw it under her feet, but I was too angry to tell +her. I hoped she'd lose it. She deserved to." + +"Oh, Marion, my dear child!" + +"Well, mamma, if you had been there, I believe you would have felt so +too, good as you are. I wish you could have seen her nose. Oh, dear! +After a while, papa saw the pocket-book, and picked it up for her." + +"'I'm afraid you would meet with some inconvenience if you lost this,' +he said, just as kindly as could be. + +"What do you think she did? She snatched it from his hand, without even +saying, thank you. The next minute, I heard her tell a woman next her, +'I'm sure I put it in my pocket. It's really getting unsafe to travel +in these coaches. One never knows what is going to happen.'" + +"Oh, dear, I hope I never shall feel so angry again! I had it on my +lips to ask, 'Who do you suspect of stealing your old pocket-book?' + +"When I happened to glance at papa, and there he was really smiling. He +saw how I felt, and put his hand on mine, as he said in German, 'Never +mind, my dear. As long as we have a clear conscience, it is of little +consequence what others think of us.'" + +"I think Hepsah Bancroft is hateful," exclaimed Josey; "I never will +get her any more leaves or ferns." + +"Yes, you will, Josey. Miss Bancroft has been very kind to you. I don't +understand her conduct now, but I'm sure she'll be sorry some time." + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER V. + +THE CLERGYMAN'S DAUGHTER. + +AT the door of a large mansion, with wings spread widely on either +side, two ladies are standing, engaged in watching the progress of a +young miss, who, under the care of an elderly gentleman, is taking her +first lesson in riding. They both laughed as she stopped in front of +the door, her face pallid with fear. + +"You're a little goosey," said the older lady, patting kindly the small +hand clinging to the pummel. "What are you afraid of?" + +"It seems so high. Oh, Mr. Duxbury, can't I get off now?" + +"Get off! No, indeed, Susan." He then turned to the younger lady at the +door, and said earnestly, "You promised to sing that anthem for me last +night. What excuse have you for forgetting it?" + +"Only this, sir," was the merry response—"that I went to the music-room +and fulfilled my pledge, but you were not there to hear it." + +"Ah! I am sorry; but I must attend to Susy, now." + +He turned back once or twice, listening to her laugh, which sounded +like chiming bells. "I envy her father," he said to himself. "She's a +perfect treasure in any home." + +While Mr. Duxbury is patiently following the young equestrian up and +down the maple avenue, I will endeavor to make a pen-picture of the +young lady at the door. + +Not more than the usual height, her erect figure, and her head carried +so daintily back from her chest, give one the impression that she is +tall. Her hair is the deepest shade of auburn, glistening and glowing +as the sun touches it, like a live thing. It is very abundant, wound +at the back into a large, loose coil, than which nothing could be more +beautiful. In front there is just enough wave to be a suitable framing +to the pure, broad brow, the ends carried back and coiled around the +rest. Her eyes are dark hazel, the expression constantly changing. +Now they are alive with fun. When she is singing, they grow dark and +deep and full of soul, almost sad; anon they flash or melt as her mood +varies. Her mouth is not very small; her lips ripe, red, and tremulous +with feeling. Just a kissable mouth, often repeated her friends, when +trying to describe her. + +Can you guess who this young lady is? No other than our Emily Washburn; +and this noble mansion is the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Duxbury, who +have a score of young ladies in their charge, with three resident +teachers, of whom none is more loved and petted than our Emily, who had +been in their family for two years. + +Mr. and Mrs. Duxbury are held in great respect by their fellow +citizens, visiting and receiving visits from the most refined people in +the town. Indeed, their monthly levees are better attended than almost +any parties in the place. + +Ella Sampson, Emily's friend and room-mate, has gone home for a short +recess, her place as German and French teacher being filled by Miss +Washburn. + +Mrs. Duxbury and Emily were still sitting on the doorsteps, when a +party of four, two ladies and two gentlemen rode gaily up the avenue. + +"Good evening," exclaimed Miss Lawrence, who was rather in advance of +the others. "Isn't it lovely out? We are going down the river road, and +came for Miss Washburn to accompany us." + +"Thank you," answered Mrs. Duxbury, fearing that Emily would refuse. +"It will do her good." + +"If you mean to benefit my health, I am perfectly well now," added the +young girl merrily. "I should dearly love to," with a glance toward Mr. +Duxbury, "but I have neither horse, habit, nor hat." + +"All of which shall be forthcoming in ten minutes, if you say the +word," answered the gentleman, warmly. + +"Come with me," said Mrs. Duxbury, in a gay tone. "You shall be +Cinderella, and I'll be the fairy grandmother." + +The old gentleman rang a bell connected with the stable, which stood at +some distance from the house, and ordered the servant who appeared, to +bring round Chestnut, with a lady's saddle. + +"I am very glad you called for her," he said, addressing one of the +gentlemen. "She will prove an addition to any party." + +"I am very sure of it, at least as sure as I can be from one glimpse of +the lady. I have never had an introduction. My cousin, Miss Lawrence, +made the proposition to come for her." + +Cecilia Lawrence was a native of old Virginia, but her parents removed +to Michigan when she was a child, leaving her with an aunt at the +North, to complete her education. Since leaving school, she had twice +crossed the ocean and travelled abroad, once in company with her +parents, only spending a summer in Great Britain, and a winter in Rome. +The second time, she went with her only brother, several years older +than herself, who had just graduated from a law school in New England. +This time, she passed three years most delightfully in visiting places +of sacred interest in the Holy Land, and of classic and historic fame +in many parts of Europe. + +On their return, Frederic Lawrence acceded to the wishes of his +parents and settled in the West, where his talents speedily attracted +attention, and in his thirty-third year, he was sent from his adopted +state as a Representative to Congress. He had been a member of the +House in Washington one year, his sister having passed the winter with +him, when she made her appearance in our story. She was now passing +several weeks with the family of Judge Wilson, the gentleman being also +a Virginian, and a cousin two or three degrees removed. + +At a party given by her friends for their accomplished visitor, Emily +was present, and contributed greatly to the pleasure of the company +by her fine singing, and also by the charming grace and ease of her +manners. Miss Lawrence, though several years the senior, conceived an +attachment, as warm as it was sudden, for the beautiful Emily. She +resolved to see as much as possible of the young girl during her stay +in U—. + + +"What a sensation she would create in Washington!" she said to Mrs. +Wilson, after they had discussed the party, and individual members of +it. "She makes me proud of my countrywomen. I have seen no one, either +side of the water, who impressed me as so altogether charming." + +This opinion Miss Lawrence endorsed, with great emphasis, the morning +after the ride. And this time, she was joined enthusiastically by +George Wilson, her so-called cousin, who returned from College one day +too late for the party. + +"It is a perfect delight to watch one so fresh, unassuming and wholly +unconscious of her own charms," urged Cecilia, dwelling continually on +the subject. "Still I almost shrink from pursuing the acquaintance, for +fear I shall discover the blemish which stains the character of us all +in this wicked world. So far I have failed to discover any." + +"You make a staunch friend, Cecilia," remarked Judge Wilson, smiling +over his newspaper. "If it will please you, I will tell one remarkable +trait I noticed in the young girl the evening she was here." + +"Hear! Hear!" cried George, clapping his hands. "Father is a capital +critic of ladies," he murmured in an aside to his cousin. "He knows +a beautiful face, too, as well as the next one." This was said in a +louder tone. + +"Aye! aye! my son. But I do not call beautiful all those who catch your +fancy. Mere regularity of features, or mere brilliancy of complexion do +not, in my opinion, constitute beauty. I want to see the soul, flashing +and glowing through the eye, the cheek. This beauty I confess Miss +Washburn has. She reminded me of a description I once read of a young +lady:— + + "'Every thought and emotion that passed through her mind, reflected +itself upon her countenance, as the under-current of a streamlet breaks +the sunshine into ripples on the surface.' + +"But the particular trait I referred to was this. She was surrounded +with young and old of both sexes; and they all talked to her on +rational subjects—music, painting, classical literature, and she showed +an intelligent understanding of them all. I lingered in her vicinity +for some time, and not once did I hear her descend to personalities. +She has wit, but she does not use it to cut her friends. Every glimpse +that I obtained into her soul revealed innocence and grace. I envy her +father." + +"Good! Good! Three cheers for Judge Wilson!" shouted the young +collegian in tones so loud that his father laughingly put his fingers +to his ears. + +"I would give something to be by when your opinions of her character +were conveyed to her," said Cecilia, earnestly. + +"I'm sure," added the Judge, "she has been carefully trained by +judicious parents. Her father is a clergyman, I hear." + +"Yes, sir, but now advanced to a position of trust in the Missionary +Society of our church. So she told me last night. She is very proud of +her father, and indeed she spoke in terms of the warmest affection of +all her family. It is two years since she came to U—. This is her first +separation from them." + +"But not the last, if I have any influence," retorted George, rising +with a flushed cheek, and drawing up his tall form to its full height. + +"You talk of influence! You, a Sophomore! Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed the +Judge, gazing at his son with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "Why, my +boy, do you suppose she will wait—let me see—three, six, nine years, +for you. It will be just about that period before you can offer to +supply her with bread and butter." + +"I don't consider myself a subject for ridicule," said George, with a +flushed face. + +"Neither do I, my boy; but a very fair one for mirth, just now." + +"Come, George," urged Cecilia, rising and putting her arm through his. +"Let us go to the garden, before it is too warm. I want to gather a +basket of flowers." + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VI. + +FRIENDSHIP. + +THE acquaintance between Cecilia and Emily ripened every hour. Not a +day passed which did not bring the former to the large mansion on the +hill, and scarcely an evening when she did not by argument or entreaty, +persuade the latter to accompany her to the residence of her friend +Judge Wilson. + +"You are spoiling me," remonstrated Emily, when on one occasion, +the old gentleman, his wife and son met her at the door, with the +cordiality of long tried friends. + +Mrs. Wilson, and even the Judge claimed the privilege of his gray +hairs, to kiss her glowing cheeks, while they all thanked Cecilia again +and again, for bringing her to their home. + +"You will spoil me with such kind attention," repeated Emily, every +feature glowing with appreciation of their cordiality. + +"I'll risk it, child," said the Judge, patting the well-shaped hand he +had taken in his own. + +"But when Cecilia goes, I shall miss you all so much." + +"Miss us, shall you, hey? Well, what is to hinder your coming to cheer +the old people, when the young birds have flown?" + +"May I? I shall be so glad. But I mustn't forget a message from papa +and mamma. Of course I have written all about you, and how kind you +have been to their little girl: and they want me to thank you. Papa +reminds me that it is one more token of my heavenly Father's love and +watchful care that Christian friends have been raised up for me, a +child away from parental restraint." + +"Aye! aye! dear," patting her hand again. "We're too apt to forget our +Father's hand in all our mercies. When you write again, you may tell +your parents that it is exactly such a message as I would expect from +them." + +"Why, do you know papa?" + +"Yes, Emily, I know him well—through his daughter. Every time I have +seen you, I have recognized his opinion, his religion, his tastes, +carefully impressed on his child." + +Tears gushed to Emily's eyes. "Oh, sir, can you say so? I'm very happy. +Nothing you could have said would have made me so thankful: and I know +papa and mamma will be pleased that I have in any way honored them." + +"You may add to your letter," said Mrs. Wilson, "that as they have +daughters and we have none, we should regard the gift of the eldest, as +an act of Christian charity on their part." + +"Thank you!" repeated the ardent girl, pressing another kiss on the +old lady's lips. "I wish my parents knew you. They would express their +gratitude, so much better than I can." + +"I can give a guess that you had a happy home." + +"Never were children blessed with more loving, judicious parents. I +have always considered my father's good name better than great riches +to his children." + +"Yes, old Solomon was right there. A fair, unsullied name is a rich +inheritance for any children." + +"It is an inheritance George is blessed with," playfully remarked +Cecilia. + +"Don't be personal," remarked the Judge, patting her cheek; at the same +time, he looked very much gratified. + +At ten o'clock, a servant from the school came to attend Miss Washburn +home, and she bade her friends good-night, with a feeling that she had +never enjoyed a pleasanter or a more profitable evening. + + +An hour later, Cecilia still sat in the moonlight, gazing on the quiet +scene spread out before her, but upon which her thoughts had not for a +moment been fixed. At last, she started to her feet, lit the gas as she +said half aloud, "I'll do it, and I'll do it to-night." + +Pausing only to fasten into the window the wire net, to prevent the +musquitoes from entering to the bright flame, she drew a portfolio from +her trunk, and still standing by her bureau, dashed off the following +lines:— + + "DEAR FRED: + + "I wonder whether you are thinking of me. Don't be vain, old fellow, +when I tell you that for the last hour I have been thinking of you. I +have only time before midnight, to tell you the ultimatum to which I +have arrived. I claim your promise to come for me. Our friends have +succeeded in making my visit in U—, one of the pleasantest I have ever +known. Come in season to make a stay of a fortnight, and go with me +to some of the places in the vicinity, rendered sacred by historic +associations. + + "Love and adieu, + + "CECILIA." + + +"How do you manage, Emily, to accomplish so much in the course of a +day?" said the same young lady, presenting herself the next morning a +few minutes before school hours. + +The music teacher laughed as she skilfully wound the abundant coil +around her shapely head. They were standing in front of the mirror in +her chamber, and by way of reply, she pointed to the figure five on her +watch. + +"What do you mean, Emily?" + +"I have been up since that hour, have practised forty-five minutes, +heard one class recite, a splendid recitation, too, and given two dull +pupils their music lessons." + +"Recite in what? I didn't know that you had any department except +music." + +Emily blushed slightly, as she always did when speaking of herself. +"Since my friend, Miss Sampson went away to be married, I have taught +her classes in German and French." + +Cecilia held up her hands. "You're a wonder of wonders. Here you are +working all day long, and yet in the evening, you're as fresh as though +you had just risen from bed." + +"I am the oldest daughter," laughed Emily, "and in a clergyman's +family, there is always enough work, domestic and parish, to keep one +very busy. But you give me more credit than I deserve. I had heard +Ella's classes on a few occasions when she was away, and when she +announced to Mr. Duxbury her approaching marriage, he asked me whether +I would like to take her place and salary in addition to my own. He +said his niece, who had been my pupil for a year, could relieve me by +teaching the beginners in music, and that as he should save the board +of one teacher, he could well afford to pay his niece a small salary. +Isn't he generous?" + +"Well!" + +"It was merely an experiment at first, but now that I am getting +accustomed to it, I like it vastly. My father's method of teaching us +at home, made the acquisition of languages more like play than work." + +"And how many languages do you boast among your accomplishments, you +wonderful genius?" + +"I don't boast of any, my dear, but I do boast of my punctuality, +which is a cardinal virtue, in my opinion, though a painful one in +this instance, as in three minutes it deprives me of your delightful +society." + +In answer to this, Cecilia removed her hat and mantilla, laying them +with her parasol on the bed. Seeing Emily's glance of surprise, she +said in French, "I am going to spend the day here and go into your +classes." + +In the same language, Emily answered quickly, "I'm afraid it will be +dull for you. To me it will be only pleasure. Come, the bell is ringing +for the opening exercises. I'm glad you love sacred music. My class of +girls do themselves credit by their singing." + +Conducting Miss Lawrence to a seat near the desk, Emily joined a group +of girls standing about the piano, and hastily selecting the beautiful +chant, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," commenced a soft +accompaniment on the instrument. + +Often as she had heard it, the words and tones thrilled the visitor to +the soul. Emily's voice, clear as a bell, rose full and sweet above the +others, her enunciation being so distinct, that every word could be +plainly heard, her pupils joining with her in such perfect time, the +whole sentiment expressed with such a true appreciation of the sacred +theme, that Cecilia seemed lifted above herself. + +This was followed by a short service from the prayer book, simply a +psalm and the collects for the day, with an extempore prayer from Mr. +Duxbury at the close. + +Mrs. Duxbury perceived that their visitor was much impressed with their +simple service, and when they were separating into different rooms, +spoke to her of it. + +"I can't tell you how delighted I am," murmured Cecelia, her eyes dewy +with tears. "I feel that I should be better with such helps at the +beginning of the day. Mrs. Duxbury, I envy your scholars." + +Emily stood waiting to speak to her. "Will you go with Mr. Duxbury for +an hour or two?" she said. "I have music scholars who I fear would be +embarrassed by your presence." + +"Class in Intellectual Philosophy," said the Principal from the desk. + +The visitor was shown to a seat, and was so much interested in the +manner of teaching, and the quick intelligent answers of the pupils, +that she was surprised when at the end of the hour, another class was +called. + +At eleven, the bell rang for recess, which was spent by the friends in +walking up and down the shady avenue. + +"You ought to be very happy, Emily," began Cecilia, in a serious tone. + +"I am truly so. I have yet to learn what sorrow is. The only trial I +have ever known, real trial I mean, was when papa lost his voice. You +must know my parents, Cecilia. I owe them so much." + +"I am prepared to love, as well as I now respect them. You are unlike +any girl of my acquaintance," and she lovingly pressed her arm within +hers. + +"If I have any good traits, Cecilia, such as your partiality invests +me with, I owe it all to the care which my dear papa and mamma took of +me, in common with my sisters and little brother. I should have been a +wild, headstrong girl, if papa had not checked me. Mamma's example too, +was worth everything." + +"Excuse me, Emily, for entering on a theme, which as many of our +flatterers suppose, is the invariable subject of young ladies' +conversation: but were you ever in love?" + +"Never!" was the rather indignant exclamation, as the young girl +recalled the overtures of Barnes Bailey. + +"I see you have some unpleasant associations with the subject, and by +that I infer—" continued Cecilia, laughing. + +"I confess," said Emily, blushing furiously as she interrupted her, +"that the subject has once been presented for my consideration. But +I,—oh, there's the bell?" + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE BURDEN SHARED. + +MONDAY noon, Monday evening came, but the absent one, about whom were +clustering so many anxious forebodings, did not return. + +"Supper with papa's favorite dish of cream-toast, and he not here," +exclaimed Ruth, after gazing down the street from the study window. +"Let's tell Ann to set it in the warmer, mamma, and wait for the next +coach." + +This was agreed to by all except Joseph, who complained that he was +"so" hungry. But the next coach and three succeeding ones lumbered by, +and still the Rector came not. + +"He said he might not be here till Tuesday," Mrs. Washburn reminded her +daughters, trying to resist the gloom that seemed spreading all around +them. "We had better have prayers and retire." + +Turning aside from the chapter in course, she read with great feeling +the ninety-first psalm, dwelling for a moment on the precious promise,— + + "Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler and from +the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under +his wings shalt thou trust." + +"You have often seen the hen-mother," she said, "in time of danger, +call her young brood and shelter them under her wings, covering them +almost out of sight with her feathers. There they feel perfectly +secure from harm. So our Heavenly Father, our Almighty Friend promises +to shield His children from evil. Enemies may, indeed, lurk around +and come very close, but with God for our protector, we may rest in +quietness and peace." + +"What a wonderful book the Bible is, mother," said Marion, with deep +feeling. "It has words of comfort for everybody." + +"Yes, my dear, which is one strong proof of its divine origin. Now let +us sing your father's hymn,— + + "'Nearer, my God, to thee— + +"and then ask His loving care to be around us through the night." + +The dear father was not forgotten in the petitions which followed. All +the family joining in them were more willing after the sweet promises +to which they had listened, to leave him in divine care. + +Mrs. Washburn tarried a few minutes after the rest retired, then went +to her daughters' chamber for a good-night kiss, glanced at Josey, who, +with his arms thrown over his head, had forgotten all cares in the +present or future, and then sought her own room. + +The night was lovely. The moon was full, and its soft rays fell upon +the floor; the shadows from a horse-chestnut tree near by flickering +and changing into graceful pictures as the leaves outside were rustled +in the gentle breeze. + +Carrying the light she held in her hand into the hall, she drew the +curtain to the top and stood gazing out upon the quiet scene. For some +minutes she stood thus, her heart raised in prayer to the Creator of +all this loveliness, when her attention was directed to a traveller +coming toward her across the field opposite. Almost holding her breath +with excitement, she kept her eyes fixed on the man until, as he leaped +the wall and crossed the road to enter their gate, she recognized her +husband. + +"Where can he have come from on foot at this hour?" she asked herself, +as she softly glided down the stairs to let him in. + +She was so much astonished at the wild, haggard expression that met +hers, that she was unable to articulate a word. She stood one moment +absolutely dumb, holding the open door in her hand, till he asked sadly: + +"Have you no welcome? I thought when all others failed me, I should be +welcomed here." + +"My dear husband, my own Henry. It was my surprise which, for a moment, +kept me silent. I thank God that you have returned in safety." + +"I am faint and weary," he murmured. "I have walked from P—." + +"What, three miles beyond the city! Here, lie down on the sofa and let +me cover you. You are perspiring so freely you will take cold. Now I +will have something ready for you in a minute." + +A door above opened softly, and a glad voice inquired,— + +"Has papa come? I thought I heard papa's voice." + +"Yes, dear, he has come." + +"'Welcome, dear papa, welcome home!" shouted down Marion and Ruth. "We +shall sleep better now that we know you are here." + +"Poor girls! Poor children! Perhaps they will not say so to-morrow +night. But I wrong them. O, God, forsake me not." + +Like the true wife that she was, Mrs. Washburn put by her own anxiety, +and soon appeared with a tray containing a covered dish, sugar, cream, +and a plate of cold roast beef. She ran back for a plate, knife, fork +and cup, saying, with a smile, as she set them before him,— + +"Fortunately the tea-kettle was almost boiling. The tea will be ready +in a minute." + +He seemed scarcely to hear her. He had covered his face with his hands, +and was breathing heavily. + +"Come, Henry. You will feel better when you have eaten. This is +Marion's toast. She made it for you, and insisted on keeping it, for we +expected you every hour until the last coach came in." + +"Look in the pocket of my coat for some papers," was all his reply. + +She took out two letters, and asked, wondering, "Is that all?" + +"Yes," after a glance at them, which caused a flush to rise all over +his pale face. "I thought of tearing them to pieces. I was afraid I +had." + +The wife's heart beat wildly. Every moment her wonder increased. "What +could he mean?" But she never doubted him. + +Seeing that he made no movement to rise, she pulled a small table close +to the sofa, poured out a cup of tea and held it toward him. + +He took the cup and drained it. + +"Yes," he said, "I need food. I have tasted nothing since—I can't +remember when I ate anything. It seems so long ago. What day is it, +Mary?" + +"Monday, dear, Monday night. Now please me by eating this," laying a +piece of rare beef upon his plate where she had already placed some +toast. + +He looked earnestly in her face, put up his finger and wiped away a +tear which all her self-control could not keep back, then sighing +heavily, turned to the food and did not stop until the plates were +cleared. + +"I feel better, stronger. Now, before you sleep, I must tell you the +trial that has befallen me. Mary, dear, faithful wife, when we pledged +our vows to each other, I did not anticipate that I should have to—But +you shall read the Bishop's letter. I cannot tell you in words with +what I am charged." + +She took the envelope, her hands trembling so much that she could +scarcely remove the note from its enclosure, and read the following +words:— + + "REV. HENRY WASHBURN, + + "DEAR SIR:—It is with the most profound regret that I proceed to the +accomplishment of a duty toward one whom I have highly esteemed and +loved for his work's sake. I am credibly informed that there is a large +deficit in the funds placed in your charge. Funds raised by yourself +by contributions from churches in our diocese, for a purpose so +sacred that it would have seemed that they were in no danger of being +misapplied. Other circumstances in connection with this sad charge, +have been related to me by those in whom I have confidence. I have +endeavored hitherto to keep my mind unbiassed. There is a possibility +of mistake. + + "'It is unlikely,' I have urged to those who have come to me, 'that +a brother whose character has been free from stain for forty years, +should be led to commit sacrilege.' + + "It is my wish to see you as soon as possible, and will remain in the +city till Tuesday morning for that purpose. + + "Yours in Christ,— + + "———— —————." + +The Rector scarcely drew a breath, as he sat watching the effect of +this communication upon his wife. + +She read it through, and then with a gasp of excitement, tossed the +letter upon the table. + +"You staid in the city to see the Bishop, then," she asked, her voice +tremulous with suppressed excitement. "I hope you insisted on his +telling you from whom this infamous accusation originated. I hope you +did not go to him faint from the want of food—as ghastly and pale as +you came home. I hope you convinced him that you are as incapable of +committing such a crime, as an angel from heaven. Oh, Henry, why didn't +you tell me this long ago. I understand it all now,—the conversation +suddenly checked as we entered, the looks askant, Hepsah Bancroft's +sneers. Oh, that I had known this before! I would have—" + +"Stop, Mary! I cannot say that the charge is unfounded." + +"What!" starting away from him. "I cannot have heard aright. Oh, that I +should live to hear my husband confess such a crime." With a cry which +rent his heart, the poor wife fell forward, and would have struck the +floor, had he not caught her, and laid her on the sofa. + +"I feared such a result," he faltered, in the saddest tone. + +Mary's condition began to alarm him. The fountain of her grief was +unloosed, and she sobbed till her whole frame was convulsed. + +"Oh, Henry, my heart is breaking. I wish I had died before you told me +this. Oh, my Emily, so proud of her father's good name. Poor child! +Poor children, all of them!" + +"Mary! Mary! Hear me. I don't think you understood me. Surely you, who +know me so well, cannot believe that I wilfully and in my right mind, +abstracted money from the funds in my care." + +Hope once more dawned in her eye, as she started up crying,— + +"What do you mean, then?" + +"You know those fits of unconsciousness? I was unfit for business +then and I might have—but no, I cannot believe it. Mary, I depend on +you to help me. I am bewildered. The torture and suspense of the last +months have told upon my nerves. One thing I can say. Before God, I am +innocent of wrong intention in this thing." + +"Then I care for nothing else, not for Bishops or all the world." She +clasped her arms around his neck, and imprinted passionate kisses on +his forehead, eyes and lips. She caught his hands, and fondled them as +she would the dearest treasure on earth. + +"Forgive me," she sobbed, again and again, "for having doubted you +for one instant. Nothing but your own words, which I misunderstood, +could have made me doubt you. No, my husband, you erred only in this, +that you did not confide to me your sorrows the first moment you +were afflicted with them. Now let us kneel, and cast our burden on +one better able to bear it than we are. One whose arms are already +outstretched to take it." + +"Will you pray, Mary?" + +They kneeled side by side, the wife still clasping her husband's hand, +while she uttered the following brief petitions: + + "We are thankful, O Lord, that we are in the presence of one who knows +the purposes of the heart, as well as the actions of the life, and that +it is by our motives for good or for evil that we shall be judged, +or condemned. We leave our cause with thee, pleading thy promises to +appear for us, and bring to light that which is dark. + + "Help us to avoid the sin of unkind thoughts to which we are tempted, +and to rest upon Thee with the trust of little children. For our +Saviour's sake, we, thy unworthy servants, ask these and all other +favors. Amen." + +"Now, Henry," she said, turning to her husband with a real smile, +"having given our burden to the Lord, don't let us take it back again. +Remember the sweet words you used to urge on me when you were ill, and +I was so fearful of the result: + + "'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee: +because he trusteth in Thee.'" + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VIII. + +CONFIDENCE. + +THE fatigue which he experienced in consequence of his long walk, +and his sensible relief in the feeling that his wife knew the worst, +caused the Rector to fall into a heavy sleep, soon after his head +touched the pillow. But through the remainder of the night, not once +did the sorrowing wife lose the recollection of the affliction which +had overtaken them. She lay a long time wondering, hoping, fearing by +turns: plan after plan for solving the mystery was made and rejected. +At length, becoming too much excited by conflicting emotions to remain +quiet, she arose and going into an adjoining room, fell upon her knees +to implore that guidance which her own unaided wisdom demanded in this +emergency. + +Even the knowledge that One ever watchful over his children was near, +and could, by His powerful hand sweep away all the obstacles that +lay in her husband's path, soothed and cheered her. Never had the +Father-love of God seemed so precious as now. Never had faith in His +promises seemed so much like an electric chain which connected her and +the mercy-seat. In that one hour of communion with the Father of her +spirit, she experienced a sweet confidence in His willingness to hear +her cry, a peaceful rest on Him which she never forgot. She reviewed +her own married life, and fervently thanked God for the long years of +evidence that her husband had been born of the Spirit,—that he had a +singleness of heart and of purpose in his high calling which precluded +almost the possibility that he had committed the crime of which he was +accused. + +"But did he abstract funds from the Association when under aberration +of mind?" + +This was a question more difficult to answer. The scene at midnight, +when she awoke and found him pacing the floor, praying God not to take +away his reason, occurred to her mind with great vividness. He had told +her of the letter which he had written to a brother clergyman while his +head was in such a confused state that he was unfit for the transaction +of business, and had begged her to be watchful at such times that +nothing of importance went from his hand. Might it not be possible +that, in a moment of dizziness and confusion of mind, he had retained +a part or all of the funds collected from some parish to whom he had +been preaching. If so, what had he done with this extra supply of cash? +Certainly even this seemed scarcely possible without her becoming aware +of a superfluous fund. She delighted to remember that her husband had +always been methodical and exact in his transaction of business. Early +in their married life, he had taught her the best method of keeping the +family accounts, and had always insisted that every article purchased +for home consumption should be regularly entered under the head of +expenditures. + +On the reception of his salary for the quarter, as long as he had been +a pastor, he counted out to her one third of the amount, as every +article was to be paid for when purchased, and kept the remainder +in his desk for the next two months. Imperative indeed must be the +necessity, such as sickness, which drew a consent from him to intrude +upon a month's payment in advance. + +During his long illness, the present of a purse of money from their +then affectionate people had prevented the necessity of drawing from +the bank any part of the money placed there on the death of his father, +principal and interest having been devoted to his wife and children +in case of his decease,—an arrangement which precluded the necessity +of laying by any part of his running income for future necessities—an +arrangement which he had often remarked gave him far more relief than +he could possibly have derived from its use in the purchase of any +luxury. + +Since he had drawn a salary from the Missionary Society, all his +expenses had been arranged in the same methodical manner. Supposing +he had taken several hundred or thousand dollars in addition to his +usual allowance, what had he done with it? While still under temporary +insanity, he must have disposed of it in some secret manner. + +With all these circumstances in mind, Mrs. Washburn could not argue +herself into the possibility of his having committed such a mistake. +Then her thoughts recurred to the Bishop's letter, which under +the circumstances, was as kind as could be expected. She suddenly +recollected that she had taken two letters from her husband's pocket, +and she had read but one. The contents of that had so absorbed all her +thoughts that she had forgotten the other. + +Down stairs to the study she glided, both to satisfy her curiosity and +to secure it against being seen by any intruder. Striking a light, she +soon discovered a rumpled paper lying on the floor near the sofa. It +was directed to her husband's office in town, and was signed William +Temple, a prominent member of the Society. It was simply this:— + + "DEAR WASHBURN:—I called here to see you, but your clerk tells me you +have gone to fulfill an engagement to preach. I don't know as I ought +to be surprised at this, and yet I am. I have had some conversation +with the Bishop regarding the unpleasant rumors concerning you, and +he tells me he has an appointment with you on Monday. You are well +aware how much confidence I, as well as all our Board, have had in +your integrity, but we are, the best of us, but mortals, and, in an +emergency, many a man may have borrowed from funds in his possession, +fully intending to repay to the uttermost farthing. Should this +unhappily be your position, I advise you as a friend, to confess all to +our good Bishop as speedily as possible. + + "Hoping you will receive this in the same spirit in which it is +written, and that you will be directed in all your future course, I am— + + "Yours, &c., + + "WILLIAM TEMPLE." + +"No wonder poor Henry wished to destroy such a letter," cried Mrs. +Washburn, her face flushing as she crushed it in her hands. "Such +advice, in advance of proof, is an insult to a Christian minister. I am +very sure Henry would have begged from door to door, before he would +in his right mind, have been guilty of such sophistry. Borrowing from +funds devoted to God's service, or from any funds not his own, I'm sure +he would call stealing." + +This letter roused her indignation to such a degree that she was +obliged to take her Bible and read several chapters before she became +composed enough to return to her chamber. + +The sun was just rising when the Rector awoke and saw his wife dressed +and sitting by his side. Lying open in her lap was the book of Common +Prayer, but she was not reading. Her eyes were fastened on the dear +face before her, and many sighs had escaped her lips, as the returning +light of day brought to view the deep lines care and grief had graven +on the broad, open brow. + +"I have slept well and am refreshed," he said, returning her smile. + +For in one respect, her duty had been made clear to her during her long +self-communing. + +"Show him that I trust him, and that I am confident our Father above +will sooner or later, in His own good time, bring the truth to light. +This I must do by a calm, cheerful performance of present duty." + +So she replied in a courageous tone, "I am glad, for we have much to do +to-day." + +"Yes; I must finish my quarterly report to be read at our next meeting." + +"Certainly; but there are other duties more pressing." + +"Of what nature?" + +"Duties, Henry, connected with this charge. I am grieved that you +delayed so long taking me into your confidence, for it makes my task +much more difficult, though I appreciate your motive. Now I am going to +show you what a woman's, or rather a wife's wit and shrewdness can do +when enlisted in behalf of her husband. When you are dressed, I want +you to go over all the facts with me beginning at the very first hint +you had of this disgraceful business." + +A look of pain clouded Mr. Washburn's features. + +"I have been over and over the whole to myself in minute detail so many +times," he said wearily, "but I never can arrive at any satisfactory +result. I have almost come to the conclusion that in a moment of +insanity or absence of mind, or confusion of ideas, I did retain in my +possession more than was really my due." + +"Which would render you an object of compassion, and necessitate you to +resign your office. That is all. No disgrace could attach to you, not +for a moment. But I am far from believing you did even so much. If you +kept what was not your own, what did you do with it?" + +The Rector's face brightened. "Yes, Mary, that is an important +question. Have I given you more than the stipulated amount of my +salary?" + +"Not a penny. I have, during the night, examined both the family +account-book and your private memorandum. Either, with the cunning of +an insane man you have hidden the deposit in some out-of-the-way place, +or you have developed a new phase of character and have spent money on +personal luxuries in the city." + +This she said so archly that they both laughed. Then he caught her hand +and kissed it tenderly. + +"God be praised for a good wife," he said with great fervor. "Mary, I +have not had so light a heart for a month." + +"Nor I; and I have much better reasons for cheerful contentment +with our lot, though it is a little cloudy at present than you have +expressed. I have a Friend, who, I am confident, will help clear away +the clouds and allow us to see the bright sunshine again." + +"You mean an Almighty friend. My good wife, you make me ashamed of my +little faith." + +"And I can account for your doubts in a degree. For a year or two, +you have not been in your usual strength. Especially since your first +seizure, you have been subject to sudden attacks of pain and confusion +in the head, and while in this weakened condition, you have been +tortured with doubts of your own actions, while under the temporary +loss of your mental power. This shrinking from your usual companions +may, to some, have borne the appearance of guilt, instead of being +the natural working of a too sensitive organization. From my present +standpoint, I can see many instances where it would have been wiser for +you to act differently. But that is all past. Now, my husband, you must +have done with doubts. You must rouse your manly courage to look this +accusation fairly in the face. You must demand a thorough investigation +of the whole receipts and expenditures from the hour you entered upon +your duties as Treasurer." + +"I told the Bishop that would be my wish, and that I would afford him +all the aid in my power, by giving into his hands all books and papers +connected with my work." + +"You have seen the Bishop, then?" + +"Yes, for an hour or more at my office. It was a most painful +interview." + +"When did you go to P—?" + +"At four o'clock. I went out by advice of the Bishop to see Mr. Temple." + +"Was that interview equally painful?" flushing as she thought of the +insulting letter. + +"Far more so. Oh, Mary, it is terrible to experience such humiliation +from those we accounted our truest friends." + +"So it was for our blessed Lord. Now, Henry, you must dress, and meet +the children at breakfast with an unclouded brow. I shall take the +first opportunity to tell them all. Family secrets are my abhorrence. +After prayers, I have several questions to ask you." + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IX. + +AULD ROBIN GRAY. + +IN the meantime, our friend Emily wrote and received answers to her +weekly letters, unconscious that while her own heart was buoyant, the +members of the home circle were plunged in the deepest distress. + +Mrs. Washburn reminded her husband of her dislike to family secrets. +But in reference to the absent one, they at length concluded that +her anxieties would be increased by her distance from home, and that +the knowledge of their affliction might so absorb her thoughts, as +to render her unfit for her school duties. She was now delightfully +situated, and in the receipt of a handsome income, which, as her +parents reflected, might become necessary for her, in case her father +resigned his connection with the Missionary Association. It was decided +therefore, to leave her in ignorance of the charges against her +father's integrity, as long as it was possible to do so. + +One morning, about a week subsequent to Cecilia's letter to her +brother, the young lady made her appearance at the school, with an +uncommonly animated countenance. + +"I cannot stop to go in," she said to the servant. "I would like to see +Miss Washburn one moment." + +Emily soon appeared running down the stairs with some sheets of new +music in her hand. She looked so sweet and kissable, with her school +dress of plain buff cambric, and a tiny white apron, the narrow ruffle +so daintily fluted, her hair as she stood in the sunlight, glowing and +glistening with every movement, that her friend stood for a moment in +silence, with her eyes riveted on the sweet vision. Then embracing her +ardently, she exclaimed: + +"How lovely you do look! But I can't stop even to expatiate on your +charms. I came with a message from Judge Wilson. He has a friend from +somewhere out west, who is to remain a few days, and he wants you to +come over to tea, and sing for him this evening." + +"I'll go with great pleasure," replied Emily, gaily. "Fortunately I +have no other engagement. And please tell the Judge that I love him +so much," (blushing a little as she spoke) "that I would do a great +deal more besides singing, which affords me personal gratification, +to oblige him or his friend. You know," she added, "that he and Mrs. +Wilson have in a manner adopted me." + +"So have I!" retorted Cecilia, with a merry laugh, as she kissed her +friend once more, and ran down to the steps. + +"Oh, by the way, I was to tell you that as we shall be out riding, Mark +shall come for you in the carriage. Will you be ready at five?" + +"Yes, if that isn't too early." + +"Not a minute. Good-bye!" + +Emily's salary was sufficient for the purchase of jewels and silks +for the adornment of her person, but she was simple in her tastes, +and the influence of her education had been such that, she recognized +many higher uses for money than the mere gratification of her fancy +in dress. In cold weather, merinos, or other soft fabrics, of pretty, +modest shades, a clean linen collar and cuffs, and the stylish aprons +which her own deft fingers wrought into these pretty shapes, was her +invariable school dress, generally with a knot or bow of some bright +color to give warmth to the whole. For visiting, she preferred black +silk, which being suitable for any occasion, she also considered the +most economical. During her last visit home, she had indulged herself +with a new silk of heavy rich texture, which had been made up simply, +and was exceedingly becoming. + +On the present occasion, in order to show her respect to Judge Wilson +and his friend, she resolved to wear this dress, together with her best +set of laces, and her agate pin, a present from her mother on her first +leaving home. + +Perhaps, also, she devoted a little extra time to brushing and +arranging the rich coils of hair around her shapely head. At any rate, +one last glance in her small mirror, met a well satisfied expression +from the face opposite. She smiled, as she said, gaily, "I wish mamma +and Marion could see me, and pronounce their judgment." + +With a quick change of thought, she turned towards the window, saying +to herself, "How silly I am: I must be growing vain." + +There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Duxbury entered, playfully +holding up her hands. + +"Mark has come for you," she said. "I didn't know there was to be a +party. I suppose the young ladies would tell you that you are gotten up +regardless." + +"I have never worn my new silk to Judge Wilson's," explained Emily, +laughing, as she put on her hat. "And as he has an old gentleman there, +I thought I would do him all the honor in my power." + +"The dress is elegant simplicity," said Mrs. Duxbury. "I shall not say +what I think of the wearer," imprinting, however, several kisses on the +glowing cheeks. + +"I hope, Mrs. Duxbury, Joseph will be able to come for me at ten." + +"Yes, he shall go. Enjoy yourself all you can." + +"How kind everybody is. I ought to be a very good girl," reflected +Emily, as she was rapidly whirled over the road to Judge Wilson's. + + +Cecilia was on the watch for the carriage, and greeted her friend with +even more than her usual cordiality. + +"Come right up into my chamber, where I can look at you," she said, +merrily. "Mrs. Wilson is busy at this moment, and the Judge—well, he is +absorbed in discussing politics with his friend." + +Emily took off her hat and laid it on the bed, blushing rosily as +Cecilia gave her a long stare, taking in her whole appearance, from the +glistening coils to the tiny tip of the neatly fitting boot. + +"You are ab-so-lute-ly-per-fect," was her flattering encomium at last. +"No, wait one moment. I brought in some flowers for my hair, and I +saved this bud for you." + +An exquisite blush rose, struggling to release itself from its covering +of moss, was speedily tucked in among Emily's locks, and looked as +contented as though it had grown there. + +"Come, now we'll go to the dining room, and find Mrs. Wilson. She'll +never forgive me for monopolizing you." She put her arm lovingly about +Emily's waist, adding, "You're an innocent, unsuspecting little puss as +I ever saw. I'm a good mind to—" + +"A good mind to—what?" asked the young teacher, stopping short in +descending the stairs. + +"Oh, nothing but one of the Judge's jokes. I'll tell you, by-and-by." + +Mrs. Wilson, on housewifely cares intent, was deep in the mysteries +of pouring blanc-mange from the moulds, when she felt an arm stealing +around her neck and a soft kiss on her cheek. + +"Deary me!" she exclaimed, turning quickly. "I'm glad to see you, +child. I didn't know till just now, that Mark had come back. Have you +seen the Judge?" + +"Not yet. I came to find you first." + +"That's right, dear. Now I'll wipe my hands and go right to the parlor +with you. I'm all through here." + +But neither in the parlor nor in the library were the gentlemen to +be found. Presently, however, the ladies heard the Judge's voice +expatiating on the "Constitutional Bill," and followed on to the back +porch, where, taking Emily's hand in hers, the kind old lady led her +forward, saying to a gentleman who rose to meet her— + +"I told you I had a new daughter. Here she is." + +"Yes, yes, that's so!" repeated Judge Wilson, taking the young girl's +hand after she had returned the visitor's polite bow, and patting it +softly in his own peculiar kind manner. "Yes, yes, little girl, I hope +you have come prepared to sing my favorite tune." + +"I'll sing whatever you wish, sir, that is if I can. You know I'm in +duty bound to so kind a papa." + +Then the Judge, who to spare Emily's blushes, had refrained from +kissing her in the presence of a stranger, found it impossible not to +do so, in appreciation of her long speech. So he deliberately put one +hand each side her face, and snatched a kiss from her lips, at the same +time casting an exultant glance at his guest. + +"My old friend and I are airing our ideas concerning the present +administration," he went on with a slight emphases on the word "old." +"You and Cecilia are quite welcome to take part in the discussion, if +you wish." + +"Thank you, sir, but I don't entertain my company by musty old +politics," retorted Cecilia with a gay laugh. "Come, Emily, we'll have +time before tea to practice that duet." + +One piece after another followed in rapid succession, but still the +"old" friends remained on the porch, until Cecilia grew really wrathy. + +"I don't understand how the state of the finances, and all those bills +they talk about can be so absorbing!" she exclaimed. "But I don't care, +we're having a good time, and if they can't appreciate fine music, they +are to be pitied. Now, Emily, sing something, will you?" + +The sound of the tea-bell, at this moment, summoned all to the dining +room. + +Mrs. Wilson motioned Emily to a seat at her right hand, and the Hon. +Frederic Lawrence to a chair beside her. But he either did not notice +her movement, or chose to disregard it, for he deliberately walked to +the other side of the table and seated himself opposite, leaving his +sister to the chair by her friend. + + +When they rose from the table, Mr. Lawrence, finding himself near Miss +Washburn, thanked her warmly for the music with which she had favored +them, mentioning one or two of the pieces as special favorites. + +Emily thanked him with modest dignity. + +"But," added the gentleman, "I really care little comparatively for +mere instrumental music. I had rather hear one simple ballad sung with +real feeling, than all the sonatas and waltzes in the world." + +Emily's fine eyes flashed with emotion as she replied, "I have heard my +father make the same confession. He is a good judge of music, too, and +often composes an accompaniment to his own singing." + +As she spoke, every feature glowing with filial affection, Mr. Lawrence +gazed at her in entire forgetfulness of his usual politeness. + +"Come, come," said the Judge, tucking Emily's arm under his own, "I'm +getting jealous hearing so much of that wonderful papa." + +"I hope you'll know him sometime, sir. I'm very sure you would like +him." + +Then with a rosy blush as she perceived that the eyes of the Judge's +"old" friend were still fixed gravely upon her, she went forward to the +hall table where a bouquet of exquisite cut-flowers were standing, and +selecting a purple verbena, added quickly to it a tiny rosebud and two +leaves of geranium, found a piece of thread to tie them together, then +returned and held them out, smilingly, to her kind friend. + +"What is that? A peace offering. What am I expected to do with it?" + +"It's a button-hole bouquet, sir." + +"Oh, child, I'm too old for such fol-de-rals. Give it the member from +Michigan." The Judge's eyes twinkled merrily as he said this. + +But Emily insisted on his wearing it, and fastened it into his coat +with her own hands. + +As the evening wore on, Cecilia regarded her brother with astonishment. +The conversation had been general and on many topics, Emily listening +with apparent interest, answering the Judge's occasional questions +with an intelligence which proved her to have thought much, but never +intruded her opinion or forced herself into notice. This, Cecilia +knew, would excite her brother's approbation, who, in fact, was hard +to please as far as ladies were concerned. But he gave no evidence of +being interested in her friend, except that when she spoke, he did not +take his eyes from her face until she ceased. + +After a time, Cecilia saw Emily steal a glance at her watch, and +suddenly became aware that the evening was passing without music. +Still, she was resolved not to be the one to invite her friend to sing. +The Judge was heartily interested in a conversation with Mr. Lawrence +on the internal resources of wealth in his adopted state, while Mrs. +Wilson and Emily sat contentedly side by side, crocheting for a coming +fair. Her impatience was just reaching a crisis when Judge Wilson +started suddenly, exclaiming— + +"Bless me, I quite forgot the treat we were to have. Come, Emily, +child, give us a song." + +"What shall I sing?" she asked, rising to comply with his request. + +"Make your own selection, dear." + +Instead of offering to help the young lady to a seat at the piano, as +would have been only common politeness, Mr. Lawrence rose and walked +to the farther end of the long parlor. While Cecilia, who was greatly +chagrined, tried to supply his place. She had never seen him so awkward +or to so little advantage as on the present occasion. She didn't +understand it. + +Emily turned over the music book until she came to Auld Robin Gray, +when Cecilia stopped her, and whispered— + +"Sing that." She knew this to be a favorite with her brother, but did +not wish him to know it was her selection. + +Emily ran her fingers over the keys in a dreamy way, repeating the +prelude with some variations, before she could get herself into the +spirit of the words. Then in a subdued tone, clear and rich, she +commenced the tender confession— + + "Young Jamie loved me well, and asked me for his bride, + But excepting a crown he had naething else beside." + +As she went on, there was profound silence in the room. Mr. Lawrence +took advantage of a symphony between the verses to approach softly +toward the singer. Judge Wilson sat in his arm-chair, his head thrown +back, and two big tears rolling down his cheeks. + +Not a word was spoken when the last note died out, and Emily feeling +slightly embarrassed at her position, was rising from her seat, when +the Judge burst out— + +"What an old fool I am!" Then wiping his tears, began to blow his nose +with all his might. + +"Don't get up," urged Cecilia, observing with secret pleasure that her +brother was greatly moved. "Sing something lively this time." + +"Sister, you mistake in asking her to sing again," remarked Mr. +Lawrence, hastily placing his hand on his sister's arm. Then without +another word, he returned to his seat. + +Emily greatly confused at such unusual conduct, was much relieved to +hear a ring at the door-bell. + +"It is Joseph," she said, approaching Mrs. Wilson to say good-night. + +While the Judge was thanking her for coming, and bidding her be a good +girl till he saw her again, she overheard Cecilia urging her brother to +dismiss Joseph, and walk to the school with her friend. She rolled her +crocheting in her handkerchief, ran up stairs for her hat and shawl, +and when she came down, found the gentleman, willing or unwilling, +waiting at the door. + +"Brother is going with you," said Cecilia. "I shall see you in the +morning as usual." + +But to the astonishment of sister and brother, Emily very civilly, +but firmly declined his escort. Then when she saw that Cecilia looked +grave, she said, laughingly— + +"Joseph is a staunch friend, and I would not hurt his feelings for the +world." + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER X. + +THE SQUIRE'S PARTY. + +WHILE at the breakfast table the next morning, Mr. Duxbury received a +package of envelopes, from among which he passed one to Emily directed +to herself. It proved to contain a card of invitation to a party in the +evening at Squire Matthews, one of the great men in the village. There +were cards also directed to Mr. and Mrs. Duxbury and family, which +included the teachers and any of the older pupils the Principal thought +proper to invite. + +Half an hour later, Cecilia appeared, and was rejoiced to find +invitations had been sent to the school. + +"But I do not intend to go," explained Emily. "I am getting quite too +dissipated." + +"You must go," urged her friend, hesitating for a moment what reason to +give, as she could not state the real one. + +"Why must I?" + +"Oh, because there would be no enjoyment for me unless you were there." + +"Why, you will have your brother." + +"Certainly, that is, I suppose he will go. Now say you will accept to +oblige me." + +"I'll think of it, and consult—" + +"I am sure Mrs. Duxbury will wish you to accept. It's a fine thing for +the school to have her teachers so popular." + +"I didn't intend to consult any person, only my engagement book. Since +you have been here, I have found your society so delightful that I have +not studied as much as I ought." + +"But now you have ceased to appreciate me. Is that it, or is it—Will +you tell me the truth, dear? Is it because my brother behaved so much +like a bear last night? I can't make any excuse for him. He's a puzzle +to me. Why, he is usually very polite and polished. The truth is, +he has been spoiled by too much attention from ladies. If you could +have seen the enthusiasm with which he was received by the ladies in +Washington, the parties made for him, the caps set to catch the new +member from Michigan, the attention, for his sake, extended to his +sister, his favorite songs practiced and played at him, the traps set +for him, you'd scarcely wonder that with a very few exceptions, he has +not the highest opinion of ladies." + +"I have nothing to complain of in his treatment of me," answered Emily, +with a slight curl of the lip. "I suppose the Judge's joke was that he +put an unusual meaning upon the term 'old' friend. I should scarcely +have gone to sing for a 'young' Honorable." + +"Now, Emily, you are vexed with me, and I'm going away so soon." + +"Indeed I am not vexed with any one. I love you very dearly, Cecilia; +and never, as long as I live, shall I forget your generous affection +for a stranger. I confess I was a trifle annoyed when I found a young +gentleman instead of one with silver hair, as I expected. I was afraid +I might be thought bold, but I resolved at once not to act silly but to +make the best of it." + +"Emily, be a good girl and show me you forgive me by going to-night." + +"I will try to get through my engagements in time, if it will really +please you." + + +The evening was quite advanced when Mr. and Mrs. Duxbury, with four +young ladies, reached the house of Squire Matthews. Cecilia, who had +been watching the door for an hour, had given her friend up, and was in +the conservatory with some young people. + +There was one, however, who saw her enter, watched the ease and dignity +with which she made herself known to Mrs. Matthews, saw with what +affection she was greeted by young and old, stood near enough to listen +to her animated conversation with an old gentleman, in reference to a +new poem which was exciting much attention, heard her chat in a lively +tone with some who had been her pupils, and failed to hear one word +which would sting, or a single remark unfavorable to the character of +another. + +He noticed that after a time she began to look around as though in +search of some one, and in doing so, her eye met his fixed gravely upon +her. She recognized him by a bow only, then left the room and soon +joined his sister. + +Moving slowly towards the conservatory, he was stopped by Mrs. +Matthews, who asked, "Are you fond of music? If so, I think I can +promise you a treat. Miss Washburn has the finest voice I ever heard." + +"I shall be most happy to hear her." + +"I shall tell her so," laughing. + +"I fear the wishes of a stranger would avail little." + +But for a wonder, Emily declined to sing alone, and indeed begged Mrs. +Matthews to excuse her altogether. + +"You know," she said frankly, "I do not want to be urged. I always +comply at once when I can." + +Poor Mrs. Matthews looked so distressed that Emily agreed to join with +Cecilia in the beautiful piece set to the sentiment of the Psalmist. + + "As pants the hart for cooling streams, + When heated by the chase, + So pants my soul, O Lord, for thee, + And thy redeeming grace." + +The two friends went together to the piano, Cecilia standing by Emily +to turn the sheets, etc., but when the second part struck in, instead +of Cecilia's voice, a rich tenor sustained the response, and joined in +with the chorus. + +The company showed their appreciation by their perfect silence. + +When the piece was finished, Emily rose, turned to see who had +accompanied her, and met the eye of Honorable Mr. Lawrence fastened +upon her. Blushing vividly, she was turning hastily away, when he said— + +"Excuse me, Miss Washburn. Like our father in olden time, I must cast +the blame on the woman, and say that Cecilia insisted." + +She smiled and said, "Thank you, sir. Your voice gave me new courage." + + +After this evening, it was several days before Mr. Lawrence and Emily +met again. All Cecilia's begging, and coaxing, was in vain. She would +not go to Judge Wilson's, certainly while she was to be the only guest. +On Wednesday, invitations were issued for Mrs. Duxbury's levee, which +was to take place on Friday evening. Of course, Judge Wilson's family +and guests were specially remembered. + +Cecilia watched her brother when Mrs. Wilson read the invitation, +adding that Mrs. Duxbury possessed the faculty of putting all her +guests at their ease, and that her levees were immensely popular. She +noticed that he looked pleased, and when the Judge added, "I shall +go if only to scold that naughty girl for neglecting me," he laughed +outright. + +But within twenty-four hours, Cecilia was doomed to receive a shock in +her designs for her brother's happiness. She came upon him suddenly on +the porch, when he thought her at a distance, and found him looking +immensely happy over a letter he was reading, but which he immediately +put out of sight, and she was very sure that he blushed. Making some +incoherent excuse, he left her and went up to his chamber. + +"What does it mean? Who can that letter be from?" she asked herself. +"If it were from a client, he would not have been so embarrassed." + +Suddenly she perceived an envelope on the floor, and picking it up +with some curiosity, saw that it was directed in a very fine hand, to +Hon. Frederic Lawrence. The post mark was New York. Vexed as she was, +Cecilia could scarcely help laughing at the failure of her little plan, +but congratulated herself that she had kept it confined to her own +breast. + +At the levee, she was more than ever proud of her friend, and felt sure +that only a prior attachment could render her brother unmindful of +Emily's charms of person and manner, they were so exactly what she had +often heard him describe as his ideal of a perfect lady. + +At Mrs. Duxbury's special request, the music teacher stood by her +side to assist her in receiving her guests, and afterwards mingling +with them, sought by every means in her power to make the evening an +agreeable one. Old and young, ladies and gentlemen, all were made to +feel that their presence was desired, and contributed to the pleasure +of the occasion. She invited the young ladies to play, and the +gentlemen to join in the singing, but not until near the close of the +evening did she sing herself, and then at the request of Judge Wilson, +who said that he only came for the purpose of hearing her. + +He gave her his arm, and escorted her to the piano, where he stood +until she had sung his favorite ballads. Then saying— + +"That will do, little girl. You have done very well," he led her back +to his wife amidst the laughter of all the company. + + +On their return home, Judge Wilson asked Mr. Lawrence how he liked Mr. +Manning, a gentleman to whom he had introduced him. + +"Do you mean the gentleman who tried to usurp Miss Washburn's +attention?" + +"Yes," explained his sister. "And who conducted her to the refreshment +table." + +"I think him one of the most disagreeable men I have met." + +"I wonder whether there is an engagement between them. I think Emily +would have told me if there was anything settled, but he certainly +seems very much enamored." Cecilia addressed herself to the Judge, who +fired up at once, as she expected. + +"If that child gets herself entangled in any matter of that kind +without my consent, I'll know the reason why." + +Cecilia noticed, with special delight, that her brother looked very +glum, and that taking one of the night-lamps which had been placed on +the table by a servant, he went to his chamber without another word. + +"After all," she reflected, "that letter may have been purely on +business." + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE IMPORTANT LETTER. + +IN the morning following Reverend Mr. Washburn's interview with the +Bishop, breakfast and family prayers were delayed an hour or two past +the usual time by the arrival of a stranger on business. They were +still sitting at the table when a boy mounted on a pony, trotted up to +the gate, jumped off, and came to the door with a letter. + +"I think no answer is expected," he said, bowing politely, as Marion +took the letter from him, mounted again, and was off out of sight. + +Mrs. Washburn saw her husband's face flush as he glanced at the +address, and retired with him at once to the study, to know the nature +of the contents. + +"It's from the Bishop," he said, seating himself with a heavy sigh. "It +is strange he writes so soon." + +He tore it open, but as though he dreaded further pain. + +Before he had time to read, his wife placed her hand over the page. + +"Wait a minute," she said. And she brought him a glass containing a +mixture of iron and quinine. "Now," she added cheerfully, "I hope you +will look less like a convicted thief. Why, Henry, if I were a stranger +to you, I should condemn you by your own actions." Her voice sounded as +though she meant what she said. + +He bore the reproof so meekly that her heart reproached her for +severity, and she added quickly— + +"I know, dear, how much you've suffered, and that you are unnerved by +sleepless nights." + +"Your words seemed hard at first, Mary, but I'm not sure that they are +not just the tonic I need." + +He turned to the letter, and she, sitting by his side, read it with +him. It was in these words:— + + "DEAR BROTHER:—I could not sleep last night, as my mind dwelt +constantly on our late interview. I am compelled to take a more +hopeful view of your case, and I have risen this morning to drop +you a note, which the son of my host will take to you. Perhaps I am +premature in giving my opinion; but to a Christian brother who has been +found faithful to the cause of his divine Master for so many years, +I cannot refrain from saying that your whole appearance yesterday, +your manly grief at being suspected of crime, your earnest wish for a +thorough investigation of facts, your evident desire that no dishonor +shall be done through you to the cause of Christ,—all this has made +me feel confident that your accusers are laboring under a strange +misapprehension. + + "I agree with you that the sooner a Committee of Reference can be +appointed, the better it will be for the Association and for you. I +wish that you would consider this communication confidential for the +present. + + "With Christian love I am yours in the fellowship of the Gospel. + + "———— —————." + +Tears of gratitude dropped from Mrs. Washburn's eyes as she read, but +she quickly wiped them away. + +"There, Henry, the Lord has raised you up one good strong friend," she +exclaimed, as the Rector rose, and with his hands behind him, began to +pace the room. "Now I want you to tell me all from the beginning. When +did you first learn of this accusation?" + +"In March, I go over the accounts in reference to the Quarterly report +which comes out in April. We have one large book in the office in which +I keep the account of all moneys collected from parishes, or other +funds of the Association. This is called a journal. Another book is +devoted to the record of all expenditures, including the rent of the +office, salary of clerks, money paid for printing reports, and also my +travelling expenses. My salary, you know, comes in another way, and is +paid me in quarterly installments." + +"Are those the large leather-bound books that I have seen on the +shelves over your desk?" + +"Yes; they are open to any members of the Board, though I think they +seldom examine them until the yearly business meeting. Besides these +books, I have a private account-book which I keep locked in my desk, +where I jot down my travelling expenses. I do this on Monday while the +sum is fresh in mind. I write it in this way, 'Preached in —; cost of +trip so much.' Now —" He stopped walking, his eyes fixed in thought. + +How many times during the last six months had his wife seen him thus +abstracted, as though trying to peer into the past or the future. She +waited a minute, and then said softly— + +"What is it, dear?" + +"It always seems as though there was something I ought to remember. And +yet, when I try to fix my thoughts or assist my memory, it is gone." + +"Perhaps I can help you. Tell me what clue you have." + +"None at all. That is what I want. If I had a clue, it seems to me I +could follow it out. I have tried so much to recall every event. There +does seem floating through my memory like a half-remembered dream, the +recollection of a large sum which I have either received or expended. +If so, it must have been at a time when the confusion of my head +rendered me unfit for business." + +"Let that go now, Henry, and tell me about the office books." + +"There is a discrepancy in the accounts. Several thousand dollars of +money credited on the pages of the ledger are not accounted for." + +"Will the money in bank which you have settled on me cover the +deficiency?" + +"More than twice over." + +"Then the Association need lose nothing." + +He stopped walking and gazed earnestly in her face, his chin quivering +with emotion. + +"Would you give up your little patrimony, Mary?" + +"Every cent of it. I would go out to work, and live on one meal a day, +rather than have the Association lose a dollar through your means." + +"Oh, what a relief! I believed it would be so. I have tried to ask you +many times, but was unable." + +"In your usual state of health, you would never have doubted it for a +moment. Have you told me all?" + +"Not quite. In my private account-book, there is certainly some want of +exactness. For instance, there is a trip to and from —, costing five +dollars, put down twice, and several more expensive journeys not, put +down at all." + +"When do these mistakes occur?" + +"At the period when my head was worst." + +"And this time against your own interest?" + +"Yes, and leave me more than twenty dollars out of pocket." + +"I am glad of that. I don't think it's so very bad." + +"The fact that is most against me is this. In my April report, I +represented the books as balancing. Indeed, I am so sure they did, I +could almost take my oath of it. Yet figures do not lie, and they are +nearly four thousand dollars against me." + +"Did the Bishop speak of this discrepancy in the books?" + +"In general only. It was evident that he was acquainted with the facts. +Indeed, he said Mr. Temple had told him." + +"Shall you answer the Bishop's letter?" + +"It requires no answer." + +"What do you propose to do?" + +"First of all, I shall write to the Association, requesting that a +meeting be called 'at once,' to examine the books, and everything +relating to the charges. Then I intend to get together matter for my +next report, which will be called for in October." + +"You mean the report to the Association merely, not the annual one +which is published." + +"Yes, but I confess I feel physically unable to go to town." + +"Why not write your letter to the Association, and send Marion with +it? Joseph can go with her, and bring the books home. Yes," seeing her +husband hesitate, "that will be best." + +She did not leave the study, till she saw him seated at his table with +paper before him: then she went into the sitting room and calling Ruth +and Marion, related to them in brief the facts she had heard from her +husband. + +Poor Marion! Her face flushed with anger. "How dare any one accuse him, +my good father?" she exclaimed. "Why, he is the best man in the world, +and wouldn't touch a penny that didn't belong to him, to save all our +lives." + +"Is that what has made Papa and you so sober?" inquired Ruth, eagerly. + +"Yes, my dear. Your father has borne his grief alone to try to save us: +and I have suffered in seeing him suffer, though I knew not the cause +till last night." + +"Oh, I'm so glad! I'm so very glad!" Ruth clasped her hands, while +tears of relief rolled down her cheeks. + +"What do you mean?" asked Marion, almost angrily. "How can you be glad?" + +"Because it's so much better than I was afraid. I thought papa was in +a consumption. I heard some of the ladies talking about him in Sunday +School. One said, 'He's running down hill very fast,' and Miss Cross +answered, 'He'll never outlive it. Oh, dear!' Then when they saw me +looking at them, they touched each other and moved away. I've been +frightened about dear papa ever since." + +Mrs. Washburn silently drew the loving girl to her side, and kissed +her. Presently she said,— + +"Yes, darling. This sorrow is nothing to that. Let us thank God, and +take courage. It won't do for us to let papa see that we are cast down, +and fearful concerning the result of the trial." + +"Oh, mamma!" screamed Marion. "Will papa be tried?" + +"Certainly. It is his own wish. He has already told the Bishop that he +should demand a thorough investigation. At this minute, he is writing +a letter to the Association, requesting them to appoint a time. And +Marion, he wishes you to take it to his office, and bring home his +books—the large leather ones in the case over his desk. You had better +get ready at once." + +"Will you read this, Mary?" asked Mr. Washburn, holding up a letter he +had written. + +She took it, and sat down by his side. It began:— + + "'To the members of the Missionary Association:' + + "GENTLEMEN:—Having learned that certain charges reflecting on my +integrity, and the faithful performance of my duties as Secretary and +Treasurer of your society, have been preferred against me, I request +that a Committee be immediately appointed to investigate the truth or +falsity of these charges, and to confer on all subjects connected with +my relations to the Association. + + "With great respect, + + "Your fellow laborer in the gospel of Christ, + + "HENRY WASHBURN." + +"Just right, dear," she said, returning it to him. "Not an unnecessary +word. Shall Marion leave it at the office?" + +"Yes, she may give it to Mr. Bailey, and say that I wish it to be in +the hands of the Committee at the earliest possible moment. Stay, I +will write Mr. Bailey my wish, and also an order for the books." + +"Now, Henry, you must drink this, and take a walk with me," said his +wife, about an hour after Marion started for the city. + +She held a goblet toward him foaming with froth. "Egg, milk and sugar," +she explained, laughing. "It will strengthen you; drink every drop." + +"Do you really think I had better go out?" + +"Yes, I do. You have had a sweet sleep. I came in twice, and you did +not awake. Now the air is delightful, and I want your company." + +"Where are you going?" + +"To see Widow Marsh. She has not many days to live." + +"Ah! I should like to see her once more." + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE CRUEL INNUENDO. + +ELIZABETH MARSH had been one of the early fruits of the Rector's +faithful preaching, and for nearly twenty years had been a devout +member of St. Mark's church. She was poor in the world's esteem, but +rich in faith, looking forward to the glorious inheritance laid up for +her in heaven. Between the humble widow and her pastor there had ever +been a tie which death itself could not sever. She had often told him +that it was one source of her joy that duty had not called him away to +a distance, for it was from his lips she hoped to hear the last prayer +in which she could join on earth. And it was her earnest desire that he +should perform the funeral services when God called her home. + +As they entered the lowly cottage, they saw her lying on the bed, while +a young girl stood near wiping the death moisture from her forehead. At +first, she did not recognize Mrs. Washburn, who hastily advanced and +bent over her. But when made to understand that her pastor was by her +side, she revived, her whole countenance illumined with joy. + +After partaking of the cordial which Mrs. Washburn had brought, she +pointed upward, exclaiming with rapture,— + +"I'm almost home. Soon I shall see my Saviour and dwell with him +forever." + +She signified her wish to hear a few verses from her favorite portions +of Scripture, and while the Rector was finding the places, herself +repeated Christ's words. + + "'Let not your heart be troubled . . . In my Father's house are many +mansions—I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a +place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that +where I am, ye may be also.'" + +The Rector read the last chapters of St. John's Revelation, concerning +the new Jerusalem, and then asked,— + +"Shall I pray with you?" + +"Yes, yes, pray once more. I have almost done with prayer. Soon I shall +begin to praise—praise Him forever and ever." + +"For what shall I pray?" + +"That He will make me patient to the end." + +He made a short prayer, when she instantly added,— + + "O, my gracious Father, bless him who first drew my feet from the ways +of sin. Fill his soul so full of Thy love that all the trials and +vexations of this world may seem less than nothing to him. Give him +living faith in Thy promises; and when he comes to the end of life, +take away the sting of death, as Thou hast taken it from Thy poor +hand-maid—" + +The last words were scarcely audible; the strength that had momentarily +revived sank again. Her eyes soon became fixed, and with a few feeble +gasps, the lamp of life went out, to be relighted and shine forever and +ever in the Paradise above. + +Mrs. Washburn sent the young girl for a neighbor to assist in +performing the last offices, and then left, promising to send a shroud +and cap for the funeral. + +"I was glad to be there," remarked the Rector, after they had walked +for some time in silence. + +"Her prayer seemed almost prophetic. Do you think, Henry, she has ever +heard of your present trial?" + +"She seemed to refer to present trial. She has now, through the +abounding mercy of God, entered upon a state of bliss. No doubt, when +she looks back to her life here, her poverty and years of pains seem +less than nothing to her. May God in infinite mercy grant us a like +peaceful exit." + +The effect of this scene was most happy on the mind of the Rector. The +reflection that life is only a state of probation—this world a place to +tarry in for a night on our journey heavenward, made it easier to bear +the trial which met him on his return home. + + +Marion had come back from the city, but without the books. She was +in such a state of excitement that at first she could not give an +intelligible account of what had transpired. + +"Come with me, my child," said Mrs. Washburn. "You will feel better +after you have bathed those burning cheeks." + +Then requesting her husband to relate to Ruth the scene they had +witnessed, she hastened to Marion's chamber. + +"Oh, mamma, look at this paper! It is shameful! I wonder God lets +people do such wicked things." + +"Hush, my child. God, our Father, knows what is best for us." + +Marion had been frantically tearing open a newspaper she had snatched +from her pocket, and now in an unsteady voice read aloud,— + + "'We regret to learn that in one of our most prominent benevolent +societies, the fraud which has for some time been suspected, has been +traced to the Treasurer, Rev. H. W., a gentleman who has enjoyed the +confidence and affection of the churches for years. It is said that +thousands of dollars, the contributions of widows and orphans to the +cause of missions, has been diverted from its sacred object, and has +not been accounted for.'" + +Mrs. Washburn sank back into a chair, and for one moment the chamber +seemed whirling around her. + +"Cruel! Cruel!" she murmured. But almost instantly rousing herself she +asked, "Who did you see at the office?" + +"Barnes Bailey was there alone when I went in. I gave him the letter +for the Committee, and then I asked him for the books, showing him +papa's order. + +"'I don't know about that,' he said, and his face grew very red. 'I'm +not sure that your father has a right to take them from the office.' +He kept twirling the order around in his fingers, and presently said, +'Wait a minute.' And then started to go down stairs. + +"I heard somebody coming up, and recognized Mr. Temple's voice talking +with Barnes. I couldn't hear Barnes, but Mr. Temple said, 'I think as +you do, that under existing circumstances it would not be prudent.' + +"Then they both came back to the office, and Barnes took papa's letter +from the table and gave it to him. + +"I waited a little while, and then I said, 'I want to get the next +omnibus. Will you please put up the books?' + +"'Tell your father he had better come to the office if he wants them,' +Barnes said. 'It isn't usual to send account-books out of town.' + +"I didn't answer a word but walked out of the room pretty quick. When +I was in the omnibus, a boy came to the door with papers, and I bought +one to try and take up my mind. Almost the first thing I saw was this +horrid paragraph." + +"There is the dinner-bell, Marion. Try to calm yourself, and come down." + +"Shall you tell papa about the—the papers?" + +"Yes, but not to-night. I mean to write Emily this evening. We can't +keep our trouble from her any longer." + +"She will want to come home directly. I'm sure of it, mamma." + +"I shall advise her to stay in U—, for the present." + +To her surprise, Mr. Washburn looked perfectly unruffled when she +entered the dining room. He was listening to some story of Josey's, and +smiled quite in his old way at the boy. + +After they were seated at the table, and grace had been said, he told +them of the peaceful end of their old friend, and in his own peculiarly +happy manner, urged each of his children so to live that whenever death +should come, he would not be an unwelcome messenger. + +It was evident to all that the poor widow's last words, and her earnest +prayer for him, had caused an elevation of soul which quite raised him +above the petty vexations of the day. + + +The next morning, Mr. Washburn prepared to go to his office. + +And when Marion, with a quickly beating heart, asked, "Shall I go +with you papa?" he answered with a smile, "No, my dear, that isn't +necessary." + +He returned at the usual time, and, in answer to his wife's +questioning, replied that he had done a good day's work, and did not +feel unusually fatigued. + +"What excuse did Barnes make for his impertinent reply about the books?" + +"I gave him no opportunity for conversation. I did remind him that I +regretted his frequent absences of late, and added that every one whom +I employed in the office, must prove himself faithful, by obedience to +my orders." + +"Do you intend to preach next Sunday?" + +"Yes. I made an engagement to-day, and also for the Sunday following." + +"Did you say anything to the Bishop about preaching while the trial is +pending?" + +"Yes. I told him that while my own conscience absolved me from all +intentional wrong in regard to the Association, I considered it my duty +to preach as I have done; and he agreed with me. It was the Bishop who +sent the two gentlemen to my office to-day, to engage my services." + +"During your absence in town, Mr. Whiting called in reference to Widow +Marsh's funeral. He said she sent for him a week ago, and told him it +was her desire that you should read the burial service, and he said he +hoped you would feel able to do so. He evidently was in earnest." + +"Did you say that I would?" + +"I told him, he had better call this evening. The funeral is to-morrow +in church." + +At the hour appointed, the body of the church was filled,—Rev. Mr. +Whiting having taken pains to spread the notice that the former Rector +would perform the service. After the opening prayer, Mr. Washburn, +in a few words, gave a sketch of the conversion, life of prayer, and +triumphant entrance into glory of the deceased, and closed by urging +each one of his beloved people so to live, that he might die the death +of the righteous, and his last end be like his. + +As the congregation dispersed, many paused to seize the hand of +their loved Rector, while from more than one, came low spoken words, +sometimes accompanied with tears. + +"I shall never forget that you won me to the Saviour." + +"I always pray for my dear Rector." + +"A godly life, such as for more than twenty years you have lived among +us, is the best refutation of slander." + +This last was from a silver haired man more than eighty years old. Mrs. +Washburn could not refrain from raising his withered hand to her lips, +as she said,— + +"Thank you, sir. You have done us good." + +To be sure, there were others who stood aloof,—who avoided meeting the +eye of the Rector, and among them those with whom he had been most +intimate. But he cherished no resentment toward them. He only repeated +the words, as if to himself, "But the greatest of all is charity. +Charity which hopeth all things,—thinketh no evil." + + +During the remainder of the week, Mr. Washburn confessed that he felt +better in health,—that his nerves were firmer, and his spirits more +hopeful than for many months. Since his trials were approaching a +crisis, he was conscious of an Almighty arm placed about him for his +support. And like a child tired of carrying his burden, he leaned +lovingly on the gracious helper. Morning and evening at the family +altar, he betook himself and his family to the throne of grace, and +there making known his wants, entreated his watchful Father to give +him the wisdom, strength, gentleness and charity, necessary in this +emergency. + +These prayers were not offered in vain. + +As his courage rose, and Mrs. Washburn found herself not absolutely +needed, she began to be tormented with doubts as to the result of the +trial. Her husband had confessed to her that he had never been present +on a similar occasion, and therefore had little idea what course +would be pursued. Whether the Committee would be competent to summon +witnesses, or to oblige any one to give evidence, he was not sure. She +began to dread the occasion, and to feel a strange misgiving concerning +the mode of trial. + +On Monday, the Rector returned from preaching, and brought with him +from the office an answer from his letter to the Committee. It was very +kind, and on the whole was quite satisfactory with one exception. This +was that owing to circumstances which they declared beyond their power +to control, the Committee of Reference with whom the case had been +charged, would not be able to meet until quite the last of November. +This was nearly two months from the present time. + +Mrs. Washburn, who had secretly almost hoped for some delay, now felt +that she could scarcely endure the suspense for so long a period. + +Ah, how little did she realize that their Father was leading them by +paths which they knew not, but which would result to their good and His +own glory. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE DAUGHTER'S GRIEF. + +THE acquaintance so earnestly desired by Cecilia Lawrence, between +her brother and Emily, progressed but slowly. Notwithstanding that he +prolonged his stay from one day to another, for reasons which seemed +frivolous to every one but himself, yet with the exception of two +occasions, he had never enjoyed free conversation with her. On both of +these occasions he had accidentally met her walking alone. + +The first time, she was walking quite through the village to a small +cottage beyond, where a servant of Mrs. Duxbury lay ill, when she met +him, and he instantly turned, went with her to the house, and only left +her when they reached her own door. The second time, it was almost +dark, and he was passing a large house, and heard Miss Washburn's voice +at the door. + +"Do let me speak to my brother," said a fresh, girlish voice. "He will +be very happy to go home with you." + +"No, indeed," answered Emily. "It is my own fault for staying so late, +but I don't think I shall be afraid. I walk very fast, you know. +Good-bye." + +When she reached the gate, she was a little startled by seeing a tall +form directly in her path. + +"Good evening, Miss Washburn," he said. "I was passing and heard your +remark. I don't think it wise for young ladies to be out alone at this +hour." So saying, he took her hand, placed it on his arm, in the most +matter of fact way, and went on at once with the conversation which +they had commenced during their first walk. + +Unconsciously to herself, the young teacher was led on to talk of her +home, her parents, of Marion and Ruth. Of Josey and her wish that he +should be a lawyer,—of herself and the desire she had felt from a +child to travel in the old world. To hear the famous composers of her +favorite music, and see with her own eyes the paintings of the old +masters. + +He listened as he would to a child, and said at last, "No doubt you +will go some time." + +"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, laughing. "That is my very airiest castle. I +never expect to go, but I long for it all the same." + +This was just as they parted, and he held her hand, while he said— + +"I'm a good prophet, I think you will go." + +Now he and his sister had left town, and to Cecilia's intense regret +without any arrangement having been made for Emily to pass the winter +in Washington, where, as the bride of her brother, she would have +made such a pleasing sensation. She still believed this would have +been accomplished, had it not been for a force behind the mysterious +letters, which continued to arrive at regular intervals during his +whole visit at Judge Wilson's, and which she was persuaded drew her +brother's heart in an opposite direction. + +So the last kisses had been interchanged, the last adieus uttered, with +a promise on both sides of writing frequently. + + +The week following, the class in German had been called, and sat in the +recitation room wondering at the very unusual want of punctuality in +their teacher, when Mr. Duxbury opened the door. + +"Young ladies," he said, gravely, "your recitation will be omitted +to-day. You will be prepared with a double lesson to-morrow. You are +dismissed." + +The class broke up suddenly, and the girls surrounding Mr. Duxbury +begged to be told what was the reason Miss Washburn did not come. + +"Is she ill? Is any one dead? I hope she is not going to leave?" + +"I think I may tell you that she has received sad intelligence from +home. I'm sure you will all be very considerate of her feelings. Show +your sympathy when you see her, without intruding on her sorrow. When +she is able to speak of it, she will tell you herself." + +Mr. Duxbury subscribed for several daily papers in which he was in +the habit of advertising his school. On the morning of which we have +spoken, Emily, having a few spare minutes before the school would be +called to order, took up a late issue, and glanced down the columns. +Suddenly her eyes became fixed on one short paragraph, her heart beats +almost to suffocation as she sees her father's name in full, and oh, +horror of horrors! in such a connection. + +It was a paragraph similar to one which had so excited Marion's +indignation, but in this instance, with the full name instead of the +initials. + +Mrs. Duxbury happening to pass through the hall at that moment, flew +to the poor girl as she suddenly, and for almost the first time in her +life, sank fainting to the floor. The newspaper was torn to pieces, and +the contents scattered under the table. + +Hastily summoning her husband, with the help of one of the servants, +Emily was carried to her chamber, where she lay so long unconscious +that the lady was leaving the room to call a physician, when the poor +girl opened her eyes, and with a wild shriek, exclaimed,— + +"It is false! It is cruelly false! Oh, it will kill me!" + +Finding herself in her own room, and upon the bed, she sprang up, +saying, "I ought to be packing my trunk. I must go home. I must start +in the next train." Then a copious flood of tears came to her relief. + +Dismissing every one from the chamber, Mrs. Duxbury drew the sobbing +girl to a chair, and endeavored to draw from her the cause of her +sudden grief. + +"Oh, the paper, the cruel newspaper!" sobbed Emily. "Where is it? I +tore it up. No one must see it. The story is false. My dear, good, +honest father. Oh, how dreadful!" + +"Shall I go and see whether the paper is destroyed or not?" + +"Oh, if you would! But what shall I do? I can never be happy again. I +ought to be at home to comfort my dear father. And mother, how she will +mourn!" + +Mrs. Duxbury left the room, wondering what had occurred, and soon +returned with scraps of the newspaper, which she crushed together in +her hand. + +"Tell me all about it, my poor child," said the lady soothingly. "You +know I love you dearly, and for your sake, all who belong to you." + +"I can't! I can't! It's too dreadful! Oh, Mrs. Duxbury, if you knew my +dear father, you'd be sure it isn't true! He would cut off his hands +before he would take what was not his own." + +"And is such an outrageous charge brought against him? No wonder you +are angry. Tell me all about it, dear. Perhaps I can advise you what to +do." + +Then Emily, with a shudder, hid her burning blushes in her hands, and +in an unsteady voice repeated the horrid words she had seen in the +paper. + +"Have your parents ever hinted at any trial through which they were +passing?" + +"Not a word," cried Emily, with sudden hope. "Is it possible there can +be two treasurers by the name of Henry Washburn?" + +"That is not very probable, but still I think you are laboring under a +mistake. If it were true, your parents would never allow you to run the +risk of reading it in a public journal." + +"I thought they wrote in uncommonly good spirits," said Emily, wiping +away her tears. "Mrs. Duxbury, did you ever have such a dreadful trial? +I can't pray, or any thing. I can only feel how terrible such a charge +must be to my dear, godly father. Don't you think I ought to go right +home?" + +"Certainly not, until you hear from your parents. If it will be any +relief to you, Joseph shall go to the office when the morning mail +comes in. That will give you letters, if there are any, five or six +hours in advance of the usual time." + +"Thank you. Oh, Mrs. Duxbury, I'm making you a great deal of trouble! +My heart aches so, I can't bear to see any body but you, and my +scholars will wonder where I am." + +"Never mind the girls, dear. You must remember that your trouble is +my trouble, and I shall try to help you all I can. You know, my poor +child, where to go for abiding strength. I am going to leave you for a +little while. When Joseph comes back, I will bring you a letter if I +can." + +Poor Emily When she was alone, she threw herself on her knees beside +the bed, and though her sobs were too frequent for audible petitions, +yet her whole heart went out to her sympathizing Saviour in a cry for +help, and for submission to bear whatever trials might be sent upon +her. Then she arose, and after bathing her swollen eyes, sat down to +reflect on the past. The very vagueness of the rumor, made it far +more distressing to her. Not for one instant did she give credit to +the terrible accusation, but she longed to know whether it had come +suddenly upon him. Who had dared point a finger at him? Were the score +of years in which he had walked blameless in the sight of his brethren, +of no account? What course would he pursue? Would her mother sink or +rise in such an emergency? And then poor Marion and Ruth. Josey was +too young to feel the affliction as the rest would. By the time Mrs. +Duxbury returned, her brain reeled with overwhelming suggestions. + +"Why, my child, how pale you are," said the kind lady coming in with +a letter in her hand. "Here is something to cheer you, I hope and +believe. I shall give you half an hour to read it. See what a thick one +it is." + +Probably in all her happy life, Emily had never read a letter of such +absorbing interest as the ten closely written pages she held in her +hand. Her mother began in her usual manner. + + "Dear child," and then went on. + + "An item relating to your father has found its way into the papers, +and I sit down this evening to write you in advance of your weekly +letter from home, lest you should happen to see it, and imagine the +circumstance much worse than they are. If you could take a peep into +the study at this moment, and see your father tied by twine strings to +Josey, at the same time that he is endeavoring to find out a puzzle +that the little rogue has brought home from school; and if you could +hear your father's hearty laugh at Josey's exultant airs, as he says,— + + "'You can't find it out, papa. Will you give it up? It's real easy when +you know it,' then you would be sure that a good conscience can well +afford to wait God's time to bring to light whatever is momentarily +dark and obscure. Yet, Emily, we are in the midst of trial, and it is +right you should know about it. The only mistake your father has made, +of which I am aware, is, that for months this cloud has been hanging +over him, and he has kept it from us, hoping to save us from anxiety." + +Mrs. Washburn then proceeded to relate the circumstance in detail. In +closing, she said,— + + "I feel better, dear child, for having told you all this. I don't fear +the result of the trial, but I do dread the trial itself. I am resolved +to be present, and if Marion can control her indignation sufficiently +to keep quiet, I shall let her accompany me. I wish exceedingly that +we had a friend in whom we could confide, who would act as counsel for +your father. He confesses that he knows nothing whatever of the steps +he ought to take in preparation, or whether he ought to take any. But +the Bishop has proved himself very friendly, and will probably do all +that is needful. + + "Widow Marsh died in triumph last Monday, with a prayer for your father +still on her lips. We were both present. It was good to be there. Oh, +my child, if we only live in the fear and love of God, it is easy, yes, +blessed to die, and go to a world where all is love and joy and peace." + +Emily still sat with the open sheets in her hand, when, after a low +tap, Mrs. Duxbury reentered the chamber. + +"I see," she said, with an affectionate kiss, "that your long letter +has relieved you. You have lost the strained expression of pain." + +"Mrs. Duxbury," cried Emily, impulsively, "I am going to prove to +you how much I love you, and how grateful I am for your kindness, by +reading you mother's letter. I suppose," she added, wiping her eyes, +"that it will be made public, and I want you and Mr. Duxbury to know +all about it." + +"Thank you, Emily. I don't think you will regret your confidence." + +The young girl began with the first sheet and read every word. When she +came to the part where her mother said— + + "Your father told the Bishop he wished to have a thorough investigation +of the whole affair,—" + +with a burst of filial tears, Emily exclaimed— + +"That doesn't look like a man who has defrauded the treasury." + +Mrs. Duxbury sat very quiet during the reading, and when the letter was +finished, she seemed to be lost in thought. At last she said,— + +"I know something of these ecclesiastical counsels or meetings of +reference, or whatever they are called. Tell me, Emily, am I right +about your father? Is he a man who believes every one as good as +himself?" + +"Yes; he is wholly unsuspicious of evil." + +"So I thought. Now to be examined by a company of gentlemen, even +though each individual is a saint by himself, needs a man who unites +the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness of the dove. I had a +friend, my dear, a cousin, who was under trial once, and—" she shook +her head in an expressive manner—"he was sacrificed,—yes, and when +he was in his grave with a broken heart, the truth which would have +vindicated him, all came out." + +"Don't cry so, child. I tell you as a warning, your father isn't fit, +by his own confession, to conduct his case, and he must have some legal +friend to conduct it for him. Why don't you go to Judge Wilson and +consult him? He's a good friend to you, and as true as steel." + +"I will! I will! Oh, Mrs. Duxbury, I feel better already. Does it cost +a great deal to employ a lawyer? You know I have more than a thousand +dollars. How gladly I will use that." + +"Money is no consideration in such a case, Emily. I've had experience, +you know." + +"I'm going to Judge Wilson's now. I'll tell him about that horrid piece +in the paper, and then read him mother's letter." + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIV. + +COUNSEL AND CLIENT. + +THE Judge was sitting in his favorite seat on the porch, with a cigar +in his mouth, when Emily found him. Mrs. Wilson, the girl had informed +her, had gone out for the afternoon. + +"Hi, pussy," he said laughing, "come to see papa, have you? Fi, child, +for shame to paint at your age," tapping her burning cheeks. + +"They are not painted with rouge," she answered, her eyes filling with +tears. "I've had bad news from home, and I've come to tell you all +about it." + +Judge Wilson snatched the cigar from his mouth, and was all tenderness +and attention. + +"All right, pussy. That's what I should expect from my adopted +daughter." + +"You've heard me speak of my father, sir." + +"I rather think I have. As near a saint as any man on earth. We lawyers +learn to reason from effect to cause, you know." + +Emily then burst into a eulogy of her father's devoted piety, his +instructions to his children, his self-denying labors among his people. +Then putting a violent restraint on her feelings, which the Judge saw +and approved, she gave him an account of the item she had read in the +paper, and then drawing her letter from her pocket, read it all through +from beginning to end. + +He had taken his cigar again, and when she had folded the sheets and +returned them to the envelope, he sat gazing abstractedly up in the +sky, the smoke wreathing into a cloud and curling up into the still +air. It was some minutes—it seemed to the waiting girl, hours—before he +spoke. Then catching a glimpse of her wistful eyes fixed so piteously +on him, he smiled, reached toward her and patted her hand, then said,— + +"Tell me about the periods of unconsciousness, as your mother calls +them. How long did they last?" + +"The first one lasted several days." + +"Was he wholly unconscious?" + +"Oh, yes, sir! He lay ill in bed. But after that, he had several turns +of being dizzy, or, as he called it, confusion of ideas. He used to put +his hand to his head, and said the feeling was that it would fly away." + +"Of course, at such times, he attempted no business." + +"Yes, sir; sometimes he tried to drive off the bad feelings. But he was +rather alarmed, one day, by finding a letter which he had written to a +clergyman in this confused state. It had fortunately not been sent from +the office. It was very incoherent and wholly aside from what he had +wished to say. He thought this a warning to attempt no business while +suffering in this manner. Once he felt that he ought to resign his +trust, but his health soon became firmer. I don't think he has had any +of these dizzy turns of late." + +"And so the trial comes off the last of November?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And you want to engage the services of a lawyer?" + +"Yes, sir. I have more than a thousand dollars of my own." + +Another smile and loving tap of his fingers. + +"You have no means of knowing whether the Committee will employ +counsel?" + +"No, sir. Mr. Temple, one of the Board, is a lawyer, and perhaps some +other members of the Reference will be." + +He nodded expressively. "Hem! Just so; well child, I think I'll +undertake the case." + +"You, sir? You undertake it? Oh, Judge Wilson!" She couldn't say +another word, but she put her arms around his neck and kissed him as a +loving daughter would have done. + +"Yes, yes, I'll be your adviser. I know Bishop —; he's a good man, +square as a brick, with a good man's leaning toward charity. But from +what I know of your father, in a Committee of Reference, he would be +like a lamb in the midst of wolves. So Mr. Temple is a lawyer, and he +thought your father, may be, had borrowed the money and forgotten to +pay it. Ha! Ha! Ha!" + +"It seems too good to believe that you will advise in the case. May I +tell them when I write home?" + +"Wait a little. I must put on my thinking cap." + +He sat smoking again, but Emily was very patient this time. She began +to be very hopeful in regard to the result. + +"Well," he began at length, "if you will vouch for the silence of your +parents, you may tell them as much as this: You have consulted a legal +friend, name me if you wish, and when the right time comes, I will see +that he has counsel to help him through." + +"May I tell Mrs. Duxbury?" + +"Not a syllable. And remember your mother, through you, must keep me +advised of everything connected with the case, however minute. There +must be no private judgment on your part, whether this or that is of +consequence. I must know everything that bears upon it in the least. +What paper did you say the statement was in?" + +"The Daily —." + +"Ah, go and see whether the copy of that paper is in the library." + +"Yes, sir; here it is;" pointing with flushed cheeks to the item. + +"Do you recollect what you said once about your father's good name?" + +"Yes, sir," tearfully. + +"Well, child, after this little blast of bad wind, your father's good +name will shine brighter than ever, or I'm a false prophet." + +She rose to go, saying, "I don't know how to thank you, sir." + +"I'll tell you how. Stay and pour out a cup of tea for me, and then +sing me a song." + +"I'm afraid it will be a very sad one, sir." + +"Go home, child!" he said with mock severity. "I don't want a client +who demeans herself as though she had lost her case. You've no +confidence in me, after all." + +Emily laughed aloud. "How shall I show you that I have confidence?" She +held up her lips for a kiss, but he waved her away. + +"Shall I sing now, sir?" + +"Perhaps I should feel better if you sang 'Yankee Doodle.'" This he +said in such a tragic tone that she laughed again merrily. + +"I thought when I saw that awful piece this morning, that my laughing +days were over." She went to the piano and played "Yankee Doodle" in +her liveliest manner, singing at the same time, "Five times five are +twenty-five and five times six are thirty." When she was through, she +heard the Judge whistling an accompaniment with great zeal. + +[Illustration: Emily Praying for Relief.] + +After tea she went home, leaving her letter with the Judge, and +devoted the rest of the evening to writing her mother. It was with a +full tide of gratitude that she kneeled at a late hour by her bed, to +thank her Father in Heaven for the relief that had already come to +her overburdened heart. She remembered her kind friend, the Judge, in +her petitions, and implored for him the wisdom he might need in the +direction of the case. + +The next morning, when the bell rang for school to commence, Emily had +given three lessons in music, and was ready for her classes in French +and German. Her pupils proved their sympathy by flocking around her, +taking her hand, and by strict obedience to her instructions, showed +her that they meant to give no unnecessary trouble. + +Her mother had written that they thought it best for her to remain in +U—, for the present, and she resolved to allow no personal trial to +render her unfaithful to the duties she had undertaken. Indeed, she had +a double motive for keeping busy. The moment she gave herself time to +think, she was miserably anxious to be among the loved ones. + + +For two days she did not see the Judge nor Mrs. Wilson, but on the +afternoon of the third, the old lady drove to the school, asked for +Emily, and when the young girl ran to the parlor, folded her arms about +her in the most motherly manner. + +"My dear child," she said tenderly, "the Judge has told me all about +it. It's a burning shame, but it's sure to come out right." + +"Yes, I feel so safe since it is in your husband's hands." + +"I didn't refer to him, dear. Of course he will do all he can. If you +belonged to us, he could scarcely love you better. But, my dear Emily, +you remember there is One all-powerful who watches over His children, +and though the paths through which He leads them sometimes seem strange +and rough, yet He knows the way well, and is sure to bring them to the +right haven." + +"Did you read mother's letter?" + +"The Judge read it to me. You ought to be a good child with such +parents." + +"Indeed I ought." + +"Have you heard from Cecilia, lately?" + +"Last week I had a letter. You know I read it to you. She is travelling +with her brother. She is a warm-hearted girl and loves you dearly. + +"As I do her; and I owe her a great deal for introducing me to you and +your good husband." + +"Well, child, you must come and see us as often as you can. We are +older than you and can't get about as quickly." + +"Thank you: I always love to be there." + + +A fortnight passed. Emily had heard twice from home, but nothing new +had occurred connected with the trial, except that the Committee of +Reference would consist of eight gentlemen, besides the Bishop who gave +the casting vote. This fact Emily communicated to Judge Wilson, and +also that her father seemed more cheerful than for a long time. + +Except by his prayers, which were exceedingly earnest and childlike, in +which he gave all his cares into the hands of his Heavenly Father, no +one would have known that he was on the eve of a trial for his honor, +which he held more precious than his life. He preached every Sunday, +and found people uncommonly willing to give, in answer to his call. In +a number of cases, he had heard of the Bishop recommending parishes to +apply to him to present the cause of missions. + +When Emily read this paragraph to Judge Wilson, he nodded his head +approvingly. + +"Yes, yes," he murmured. "Well, he would hardly do that if he thought +the Rector a defaulter." + +He referred to this again, and Emily saw him making a note of it. +Sometimes she longed to ask him how he intended to give counsel at +such a distance, and whether it would be necessary for him to go to +Canterbury. But she did not like to intrude upon his confidence, and +she felt sure he would not have undertaken it if he had not expected to +succeed. + +One evening, at the end of the fortnight, the young girl was in her +chamber writing to her mother, when a servant knocked at her door, and +giving her a card, told her a gentleman was in the parlor waiting to +see her. + +In great surprise, she read the name, "Frederic Lawrence," and only +stopping for a glance in her mirror to see whether she was presentable, +she ran quickly down stairs. She gave him her hand cordially, and then +glanced around the room. + +"Is not Cecilia with you?" was her eager inquiry. + +"No; I left her in Baltimore. I had business which called me north +again, rather unexpectedly. I did not mention to her that I should come +to U—, or she would have loaded me with messages." + +"When do you return South? I will try to have a letter ready for you, +if you will take the trouble to give it to her." + +"My return depends on circumstances." He spoke with some embarrassment, +and, to Emily's surprise, went to the door and shut it. + +"Miss Washburn," he began, placing a chair by her side and seating +himself in it, "if I introduce a subject painful to you, I hope you +will believe that I do it only in the way of business, and as a matter +of necessity. I refer to the Committee of Reference, appointed by your +father's request, to examine into certain accusations against his +character." + +Every particle of color left the poor girl's face and lips at +this sudden mention of the subject by one so much a stranger. She +determined, however, not to give way, and presently the blood came +surging back to her cheeks, painting them crimson. + +"Did you learn about it from Judge Wilson?" she inquired, but finding +it impossible to look him in the face. + +"Yes," he says, smiling, "that you have retained him, and he has +retained me. I have already been to Canterbury. I saw your friends +there, all of the family, I mean. I had a long interview with your +father. I—in fact I offered myself as his Counsel, but he refused." + +"Oh, why?" exclaimed Emily. "How could he?" + +"From his firm trust in God as an all-sufficient helper. He had an idea +that to have legal counsel would show a mistrust of divine aid. In all +my life, I never saw such faith." + +"But he knew of Judge Wilson's kind offer?" + +"No; your mother heard him say he should refuse legal advice, and she +did not tell him." + +"I don't know what to say, Mr. Lawrence. I can't help thinking papa has +made a mistake, and yet, he is usually very discreet and does not make +up his mind hastily—" + +"Your mother takes your view, and eagerly accepted my proffer of +assistance. She has a clear head, and gave me the whole facts of the +case in a manner I never heard equalled. I have set her down as a +wonderful lady. I—" + +He stopped, rose and walked the floor, then returned to his seat. + +"Mr. Lawrence—" + +He turned toward her abruptly, pausing for her to go on. + +"I want to thank you for your kindness. I can't express myself, but I +do feel grateful both to Judge Wilson and to you." + +He seized her hand. "May I tell you," he asked, eagerly, "what I want? +Will you pardon my abruptness, Miss Emily; I have known you a long +time, at least so it seems to me. Will you give me the right to act the +part of a son to your father? Will you be my wife?" + +For one moment Emily stared at him without speaking. She felt sure her +eyes betrayed her astonishment. + +Then, as his gaze was fixed searchingly on her face, she answered +firmly. + +"Certainly not, Mr. Lawrence." + +"I know you are not prepared for such a question. Indeed, I did +not expect to ask it to-night—I forgot that you could not know how +entirely your image has filled my mind since the first evening I had +the happiness of seeing you, but certainly you must have suspected my +devotion." + +"No, sir; so far from it, if I had indulged any thought on the subject, +your manner would have led me to suppose that you did not approve your +sister's friend." + +"Impossible! Why, I postponed my departure from time to time, and was +quite angry with Cecilia for urging me to go at all." + +"Certainly, sir, such an idea as my influencing you, in any way, +never occurred to me. And even if I had, this is not a time, when my +beloved father's good name is aspersed, for me to think of—of such a +proposition." + +He bowed gravely. + +"Were I even engaged to be married," she went on, "under similar +circumstances I should at once release the gentleman, for I would never +consent that another should be disgraced by the publication of such +items as I showed to Judge Wilson." + +"Nothing of that kind would weigh a feather with me, Miss Emily." + +"I have given you my answer, sir." + +She rose to show him that the interview was ended, and he at once +followed her example. Not a word in addition was said on either side. +He stood up, his tall form rising above her, took her hand, gazed for +a full minute steadily into her eyes, then with a heavy sigh left her +alone. + +She waited only till she heard the outer door shut, then flew up the +stairs to her own chamber, locked the door, and sat down, trembling, to +reflect on, and wonder at, the strange interview. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XV. + +"THY WILL BE DONE." + +THE morning sun was just peeping over the hills when the young teacher +rose from her sleepless couch, and proceeded in a listless manner +to dress herself, having an appointment with a pupil at a quarter +before six. On approaching the mirror, she was shocked at the idea of +presenting to any one, such a pale, wan face. + +"Oh, dear!" she said to herself, with a sigh. "How I wish I could +see mother. To no other person living, could I confess my foolish, +ungrateful conduct. What must he think of me? When he came hundreds of +miles to do a kindness to my beloved father, and then offered me the +greatest compliment in the power of man to bestow, I might at least +have answered him civilly. Then, too, how noble to choose a time when +most men would have held aloof. How could I treat him so indifferently? +But it's past now, and all my regrets at my want of even common +politeness are too late. I have thought upon it all night, until I'm +unfit for anything." + +Yes, the poor child had revolved Mr. Lawrence's strange proposition, +through all the weary hours since he left. She had thought of him in +connection with her father, and the case that was pending. Suppose +that by her want of consideration she had lost him, a powerful friend, +and in consequence, that he should be sacrificed like Mrs. Duxbury's +cousin. In that case, could she ever be happy again? + +Then she thought of him as Cecilia's brother. What would she say to +such conduct? Would he tell her she was mistaken in her friend, and +would she withdraw her confidence? + +And what would Judge Wilson think of such precipitation, which +overthrew all his projects for her father's benefit? Never would she +have courage to mention the subject of her father's trial again. And +yet, what would he infer if she did not keep him informed of every +event? + +Rousing herself at last, she dashed cold water on her forehead, and +proceeded to get ready for her pupil. Just as she was going to the +music-room, the young scholar knocked at her door. + +"Oh, Miss Washburn, I'm sure you have a headache! You are so very pale. +It is not quite time for the lesson. Won't you come around the garden? +It will do you ever so much good." + +The morning air was clear and bracing, and Emily readily agreed to go, +and was so much benefitted by the fresh air, and her pupil's lively +conversation, that she went through not only with that lesson, but with +all her duties of the day with comparative comfort. + +Nothing occurred to change the current of her thoughts in regard +to Mr. Lawrence for several days. To be sure her mind dwelt on him +continually, and she wondered more and more at his supposition that +she must be aware of his affection, when he had never given her the +slightest reason to suspect it. Certainly, he was a peculiar man, or he +had peculiar ideas concerning the manner a wife was to be won. + +At the expected time, her mother's weekly letter came, always warmly +welcomed, but now, poor Emily pressed the unopened envelope to her +lips, her eyes dim with tears, as she said to herself,— + +"No matter how foolish and stupid I am, I'm sure of one to love me. +Dear, dear, mamma!" + +After speaking of several items of family interest, Mrs. Washburn went +on to describe a visit they had received from a gentleman, a stranger, +who gave his name as Lawrence, a clerk she thought of Judge Wilson, +but at any rate sent by him to make inquiries concerning her husband's +trial. + + "I wish you could have seen him," added the mother. "He rendered +himself so agreeable that he won us all at once. Marion is in raptures +about him, and so is Josey. He dined here twice; I insisted, you know, +as there is no hotel in the village: and the last time he had a long +conversation with your father. He offered to act as Counsel for him, +and urged his services, saying that three members of the Reference were +of the legal profession. + + "Strange to say, your father refused, greatly to my regret. He says God +knows his innocence of motive, and if he has in a moment of aberration, +appropriated money belonging to the Society, he does not wish it +covered up. He wants to know it, and to pay every dollar. I wish, my +dear, you could hear his prayers. Mr. Lawrence was here once during +family worship. He told me afterward that he had never listened to so +fervent, simple, childlike a prayer. He said your father was to be +envied for his perfect, childlike trust in God's loving, watchful care. +I too, believe that God will bring to light all that is now so dark, +and I do not doubt his power to do so without the aid of man: but I +believe that it is in accordance with his will that we do all we can to +aid ourselves. + + "Probably we shall never see Mr. Lawrence again, but I shall always +feel grateful to him for his kind interest, and also to your friend +Judge Wilson for sending him." + +Emily sighed more than once, after reading this letter. Then she turned +back, and read again the pages relating to Mr. Lawrence. She could +scarcely imagine one so grave and dignified sitting at their table, +winning such golden opinions from them all. How they would blame her, +if they were aware that she had returned his kindness with such cold +contempt. + +The letter she knew ought to go to Judge Wilson. Perhaps he was already +aware that his offer of assistance through his friend, had been +refused. Still, she ought to be sure that it was so. She really felt it +impossible to carry the letter, and meet the bantering from the Judge, +if he suspected what had taken place. After reflecting for a time upon +the subject, she resolved to enclose the part relating to her father +in a note to Mrs. Wilson, adding what was really the case, that for +several days she had been troubled with headache. + + +An hour only after her letter was sent, Mark drove to the door, and +asked to see Miss Washburn. + +"The Squire sent me for you, Miss," he explained. "I'm to bring you +without fail. That's my orders, Miss," he added, laughing. "I'm going +to the store, and if you'll be ready in fifteen minutes, I'll be back +then. But you wasn't to hurry yourself, Mrs. Wilson said." + +She was received with true affection, many inquiries being made +concerning her health. + +"You don't exercise enough, child," said the Judge, tapping her pale +cheeks. "You must give up your German classes. It won't do. We shall +have you dying of consumption. Do you have enough to eat, child?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed! We keep an excellent table," was the laughing reply, +"but I confess that I haven't much appetite." + +"Worrying about the trial, eh! Well that will soon be over now. I don't +know what to say about your father. By the way, Frederic, Cecilia's +brother, has been here. Only staid over one night, or he would have +seen you, I suppose." + +Emily's heart beat more freely. + +"We sat up till midnight talking the case over. He'd been to +Canterbury, and got hold of some facts. He's sharp as a razor. When +once he's on the track, he's keen to ferret out any iniquity." + +"I agree with mother in being sorry that father refused so noble an +offer of assistance." + +"Yes, yes, 'twas unfortunate, but I've great faith that all will come +out right. Let me see, there are only three weeks before the case comes +on. Now we'll have some music. If you don't come oftener, I shall have +to send mother to the school to take lessons. There, child, you needn't +play Yankee Doodle to-night. We'll keep that to celebrate the full and +free acquittal of our honored treasurer, from all the charges made +against him. Now you may select something for yourself." + +Without a moment's hesitation, she turned over the book until she came +to a chant, set to the words, "Thy will be done." + + "'Thy will be done!' In devious way + The hurrying stream of life may run: + Yet still our grateful hearts shall say, + 'Thy will be done!' + + "'Thy will be done!' If o'er us shine + A gladd'ning and a prosperous sun, + This prayer will make it more divine— + 'Thy will be done!' + + "'Thy will be done!' Though shrouded o'er + Our path with gloom, one comfort—one + Is ours;—to breathe, while we adore. + 'Thy will be done!'" + +"If we can truly say that, we shall be happy indeed," remarked Mrs. +Wilson, quietly. + +Emily rose from the piano, and saw the Judge beckoning to her. His +newspaper had dropped between his knees, and two large tears were +making their way down the furrows time had graven on his cheeks. He +pointed to a chair by his side, and presently took her hand in his. + +"Good child!" he murmured, softly, "You've taught me a lesson, dear. +Why didn't you sing that to me before?" + +"I've chanted that many times," she answered, "but the words never came +home to my heart as they did then." + +He nodded expressively, but said no more. + +Mrs. Wilson soon rose to go to the dining room, as was her custom a +few minutes before each meal, and Emily followed her to offer any +assistance in her power. + +"Shall I tell you what the Judge said before you came?" said the old +lady, with a smile. + +"Yes, if you please." + +"He said he wished our George was old enough and good enough to win +you, he would so enjoy having you here for our real daughter. Our +little Annie would have been about your age, if she had lived. We loved +her dearly, and her father was almost heart broken when she died. I'm +almost sure those beautiful words reminded him of the time when he +tried so hard to say, 'Thy will be done!'" + +At the supper table, the Judge exerted himself to be agreeable. He +talked to the visitor of her home, said Frederic Lawrence had given him +a glowing account of the family, that he thought her mother a wonder, +and her older sister handsome. + +Emily longed to ask whether the Judge or his friend had abandoned the +idea of being present during the trial, but the burning in her cheeks +at the bare mention of Mr. Lawrence's name, took away her courage. She +learned nothing to relieve her anxiety during her visit, except what +she gleaned from one fact. + +Just as she was leaving, she said, "I will take mother's letter, if you +please, sir. I'm going to answer it soon." + +"Easier said than done, my dear," he answered laughing. "That's +documentary evidence, and is filed accordingly. Don't you recollect +the contract, child? I consented to take you for a client on the +consideration of a thousand dollars, you said you had ready, and you +were to furnish me with facts, family items, every thing that bears on +the case." + +His eyes twinkled, as he witnessed the astonishment of his wife at his +reference to the money. + +"That's a joke, Emily. He wouldn't touch a penny of your money." + +"Then how do you expect me to find you in bread and butter, if you +instruct my clients not to pay me." + +Then he sat down and laughed till he choked. "I'd give a few hundred," +he said, "to see you, child, counting out your bank bills to our +Honorable member from Michigan. Ha! Ha! Ha! No, pussy, keep it to buy +wedding finery, which, if all the young men weren't blind, you'd have +had occasion for some time ago." + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE TELEGRAM. + +A LETTER from Cecilia arrived the next week, stating that she had at +last reached home and that her happiness would be complete, if Emily +were with her to share the eager welcome extended to herself and +Frederic, from parents, neighbors and friends. + +She stated, as an item of news, which was exciting great attention in +their western world, that Frederic had carried up an important patent +case to the Supreme Court, where, according to the newspapers, he had +argued for five hours with such power and skill that he carried all +before him. + + "The best part of it was," added his sister, "that he won and received +thirty thousand dollars for his services, though to be sure he has +been engaged for a year in looking it up; all the time indeed that +poor unsuspecting 'I' thought he was such a devoted brother travelling +solely for my benefit. If you could be present at one of our western +parties, and see how he is toasted and feasted and made much of, you +would be surprised, considering, I mean, the stupid way in which he +conducted himself in U—. + + "I have told my father and mother all about my pet friend, and they +cordially unite with me in the wish that you may take a trip out west, +and make us a real good visit, at no distant day. + + "CECILIA. + + "P. S. I have read the letter to Frederic at the request of his Honor. +But when I asked him whether he had any message, he paused a full +minute, then said, gravely, 'No, I think not.' You can easily imagine +that I gave his ears a frightful reminder of my indignation in your +behalf." + +The young teacher was very busy in preparing her classes for the +quarterly examination, and practicing new pieces for the Commencement +Levee, at Mr. Duxbury's particular request. In this manner, day +after day flew by, until less than one week intervened before the +twenty-second of November, the time appointed for the Council. + +Mrs. Washburn kept her daughter informed of every thing connected with +the case, at Emily's request, writing such items on separate sheets, +which the young girl would show to the Judge. Nothing of importance had +occurred since the reading of the quarterly report by the Treasurer, +when a warm debate took place in reference to past accounts, except a +visit from the Bishop, who passed the Sunday with them, and confirmed +six persons, who had been presented for that purpose by Mr. Whiting, +the new Rector. + +On this occasion, Mrs. Washburn inquired in reference to the manner of +conducting the trial, and announced her determination to be present +during all its sessions. The Bishop smiled and said, "Such a course +is unusual, but I see no objection to it." After this, he took an +opportunity to inform the Rector what would be expected of him. The +conversation soon became so free that Mrs. Washburn informed him that +as her husband knew far more about laying out a sermon, and looking +up authorities on different topics connected with it than he did the +technical terms of law, or the management of his own case, she had +wished him to employ a lawyer to assist him, and that a friend had +voluntarily offered to act as his Counsel, but he had refused. + +"Why so?" he asked. "There is no objection to such a course." + +The Rector then had stated the reasons which had prevented him from +accepting legal advice, at which the Bishop had seemed much moved, +merely adding,— + +"God never disappoints the expectations of those who put their trust in +Him." + +This letter reached Emily on Thursday. The trial was appointed to +commence on Tuesday of the next week. It was expected to last two or +three days. On Friday night, Emily sat with one of her German pupils, +correcting an exercise, when a servant entered requesting her to step +to the door. She found Mr. Duxbury signing his name in a book, while a +boy, with an envelope in his hand, stood waiting to deliver it. + +"A telegram for you, Miss Washburn." + +She seized it with a sinking heart, and read,— + + "Come home immediately. Father dangerously ill." + +"Mr. Duxbury, what time does the next train start?" The voice was so +strained and unnatural that the gentleman would not have known from +whom it came had not he seen Emily, pallid and ghastly, with her hands +firmly pressed to her heart, gazing in his face with her pitiful eyes. + +He took out his watch. "If you must take the night train to Albany, +you have nearly an hour. Joseph shall go with you so far, and see you +safely on board the train going east." + +She tried to speak, but no sound came from her white lips. + +At this moment Mrs. Duxbury came hurrying in, and took Emily in her +arms. + +"My precious child," she whispered, "what can I say to comfort you?" + +"Pray for him and for me." + +"I will go and pack your travelling bag; whatever you need after, shall +be sent by express." She then directed a servant to pack lunch for two +or three meals, and followed the poor girl to her chamber. + +"Oh, Mrs. Duxbury, will God let him die before his name is vindicated?" +The eyes were tearless, but the tone was agony. + +"My dear child, God loves your father with a deeper, better love than +yours. If it is His will to take him to dwell with Himself, He will +surely vindicate him in His own good time. My poor friend's name shines +clear now, though he lies in his grave." + +Emily groaned, but went on hurriedly to arrange her dress for the sad +journey. + +"Don't try to keep back your tears, my poor child," urged the lady, +almost frightened at the wild glance in Emily's eyes. + +She only shook her head, but said presently,— + +"I want to ask Mr. Duxbury to send, in the morning, to Judge Wilson. +They must know, without fail, that I have gone home, and why." + +"He will go with you to the station, and call there on his way back." + +"Thank you; now I am ready." She stood one moment gazing around the +room where she had passed so many happy hours, then with a deep sigh, +went down stairs. + +The girls were all in the hall. They had begged to be allowed to give +their loved teacher a parting embrace, promising not to say one word. +As she passed through them, she lifted her veil and gave every one a +silent kiss, put her arms around Mrs. Duxbury's neck, whispering the +petition,— + +"Pray that I may have the heart to say, 'Thy will, not mine, be done.'" + +Joseph was already at the door with the carryall. Mrs. Duxbury repeated +Emily's request concerning the message to Judge Wilson, and they drove +away. + +"I have consulted the paper," said Mr. Duxbury, "and find you will +arrive in Albany at five to-morrow morning. Joseph will see you +comfortably seated in the right car; he is used to travelling, and you +may safely leave everything to him. We shall follow you through every +mile of your journey; but what is of more consequence you will have the +companionship and sympathy of your Saviour. He suffered, you remember, +that he might share our grief." + +"Thank you, sir. I love to think of that. Oh, Mr. Duxbury! What if +he—what if I should never see him again! I don't think I could endure +it." + +"'As thy days, so shall thy strength be.' Here we are at the station. +Good-bye, my dear. May God go with you and support you." + + +It was near dusk the next evening when Emily, worn with suspense and +fatigue, reached the city near her home, and leaving the cars, hurried +as fast as her strength would allow, toward the street from which the +omnibus started for Canterbury. It had been gone about ten minutes. +Poor Emily! She stood one minute almost stunned with disappointment. + +"Can I endure another hour of suspense?" she asked herself. + +She walked on, hesitating what to do, and wondering whether she could +walk five miles in the dark, when to her surprise, she heard her name +called. It was Mr. Butler, one of their neighbors, who had been to the +train with a carryall to meet her, but missing her there, followed her +to the omnibus stand. + +"How is he?" she gasped out. + +"About the same. The doctors have a consultation this evening." + +"There is hope, then?" + +"I'm afraid there is very little." + +"Is it fever?" + +"Pneumonia. He took cold attending a funeral, last Wednesday, in a +violent storm." No more was said. + +Emily had no heart to ask further questions, and he volunteered no +information. The poor girl had known him all her life, and was sure if +he could give her any encouragement, he would not fail to do so. + +In less than an hour from her leaving the cars, she reached home—the +dear, dear home where her father's arms had always been outstretched to +receive her, but where he now lay unconscious of all about him. + +As the carriage stopped, Marion appeared at the door, and the sisters +were speedily in a close embrace. Marion's face was pale as marble. +There were no traces of tears. + +Emily sank into a chair in the familiar room, and with one glance +toward her father's writing-table, with papers here and there just as +he had left them, she burst into tears. + +"Tell me," she sobbed, "tell me all." + +"Dr. Monger and his young partner Dr. Rand have just gone. They agreed +mostly with our doctor, but Dr. Rand wished to try a new remedy which +has been very successful in the hospitals. He is coming back soon, and +will remain all night. Dr. Sumner is here now." + +"There is hope then?" + +"I think Dr. Rand feels that there is a chance for his life. I heard +him tell mamma that papa's strict temperance in eating and drinking is +a great thing in his favor—that medicines, which have little effect in +cases of others, seem to do the desired work with him." + +"Does papa know his danger?" + +"Oh, yes!" murmured Marion, her whole face assuming an expression of +elevation. "He is perfectly happy. The house has been full of people to +hear him talk, ministers, and gentlemen from the city, even. It seems +like having the gates of heaven open to be in his chamber." + +"Mr. Butler told me he was lying in a stupor." + +"Yes; that is in consequence of the new medicine Dr. Rand has given +him. He has scarcely slept a moment before." + +"How is mamma?" + +"Perfectly well, and so calm you wouldn't know there was anything the +matter. Now take off your hat and get some supper. I'll go up to papa, +and then mamma will come down." + +A light step came over the stairs, and Emily started up and put her +arms around her mother's neck. + +"You poor, tired child," said the lady, after one glance into her +daughter's face, "You must eat a hearty supper and then go to bed. I +suppose Marion has told you that Dr. Rand will be here through the +night. I shall get all the sleep I can, so as to have strength for +to-morrow." + +"I must see him first, mamma." + +"So you may, my dear. I'm so glad to have you here. We who have been +so privileged as to be in papa's sick room, have witnessed scenes that +we can never forget. Now, I'll go to the dining room with you. I have +taken nothing yet." + +Ruth and Josey started with surprise at the sight of their sister. They +were not aware that she had arrived. Josey's eyes were red and swollen. +He had been trying to read his Sunday School book, but his heart was +evidently with his father. + + +At nine o'clock, Dr. Rand came and went directly up stairs to his +patient. Noticing no one, he passed at once to the bed, bent his ear to +the sick man's breast, felt his skin, then sat down with his watch to +count the pulse. Finally he took the lamp from the table and held it +above the patient where the light would reflect on his face. + +Poor Emily, who was present, could not suppress a groan, as, for the +first time, she saw the ghastly, deathlike hue. + +"Do you perceive any change?" inquired Dr. Sumner, retiring with Dr. +Rand a few steps into the entry. + +"I must apply my thermometer before I can decide," was the brief reply. +"When did he take the quinine last?" + +"At eight precisely." + +Dr. Rand went back to the bed, stood several minutes thoughtfully +regarding the sick and apparently dying man, then taking a piece of +rice paper from a box on the table, took a powder from his pocket, +folded the damp paper over it, and gently raising the patient's head, +skilfully pushed it down his throat without awaking him. + +"Now," said he, in a low tone, approaching Mrs. Washburn, "I want the +house quiet. You can all go to bed, only tell me where to go to call +you if I need anything. He will sleep for several hours." + +"Knock at the door opposite," she answered. Then added, "You will find +on a waiter, in the entry, some food for yourself." + +"I need nothing." + +"Can you give me a word of hope, doctor?" + +"His strength to-night fully equals my expectations. As for the rest, +he is in the hands of a compassionate God." + +"Yes, sir; and I thank Him that He gives me grace to say, 'Thy will, +not mine, be done.'" + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE GATE OF HEAVEN. + +FATIGUED by her long journey, Emily slept soundly until morning. She +was awakened by seeing her mother bending over her with a smile. + +"Come, my dear, your father is awake, and has inquired for you." + +"Is he better then?" + +"Dr. Rand says he is no worse." + +In a few minutes, Emily passed out of her chamber, saw Dr. Rand lying +asleep on a lounge in the little sitting room over the front door: and +then noiselessly glided to her father's side. + +Putting a violent restraint on her feelings, she bent over him, and +kissed repeatedly his forehead, then seizing the hand he feebly held +out to her, she knelt by the bed holding it to her lips. + +"Welcome—home,—dear," he murmured faintly. "Remember, whether—I live—or +die, that I love you tenderly." + +Mrs. Washburn came forward to the bed. "That will do," she said. "You +may look at each other, but no more talking at present. Here comes +Marion with your beef tea, papa. Emily shall see me feed you, because +she'll be wanting to take her turn." + +A smile of ineffable sweetness shone on his face. + +She spread a napkin under his chin, and tenderly as a mother would a +babe, gave him half a dozen spoonfuls. + +He then motioned to Emily, and whispered the words, "Sing, Rock of +ages." + +Her voice at first unsteady, rose gradually, and at length filled the +room, the patient lying with his eyes shut, with an expression of holy +rapture on every feature. + +Dr. Rand afterwards told Marion that his sleep was disturbed by an +angel's song, which thrilled his whole soul. + +When she had finished, his lips moved, and bending nearer, Emily heard +him repeating the words,— + + "Simply to thy cross I cling." + +Then he lay so quiet that Mrs. Washburn left the chamber to give some +necessary directions below. + +This was the Sabbath, and at nine o'clock, the bells of different +churches rang for Sunday School. The sound roused the sick man, who +spoke aloud with considerable strength, repeating the lines— + + "Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love, + But there's a nobler rest above." + +Then breaking out with a strain of rapture, he exclaimed in the words +of the Psalmist,— + + "'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord +is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? . . . When thou +saidst, Seek ye my face; my heart said unto Thee, Thy face, Lord, will +I seek . . . I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness +of the Lord in the land of the living.'" + + +At ten o'clock, Dr. Summer came and found the stairs and upper hall +filled with members of the church, to whom the sick man had formerly +ministered. Dr. Rand would not allow them to go into the chamber, on +account of his patient's difficult breathing, but they wept as they +heard his voice giving testimony to the reality and power of the +religion of Jesus in a dying hour. + +This continued through the day, the patient being propped up with +pillows, occasionally sinking off into a doze. Toward night, the fever +raged to an alarming degree. Dr. Rand who had been absent a few hours, +said that the crisis was approaching, and that he should not leave his +patient. Anodynes in large quantities were given, but for some time +appeared to have little effect. Once when they thought him asleep, he +opened his eyes, and asked,— + +"How long have I to live?" + +"Why?" inquired the doctor, keeping his fingers on the wiry pulse. + +"Before I die, I want to bear my testimony for Jesus." + +"God willing, we shall keep you for twenty-four hours." + +He seemed perfectly satisfied. + +But Marion who stood by, suddenly left the room with a cry of agony. + +For an hour or two, his distress was terrible. Every breath was a +groan, and yet in the midst of his agony, he looked up at his wife, and +gasped the words,— + +"All—is—peace. My Saviour—is—leading—me—gently down—to—the—swelling +flood—" then after a moment added,—"Read." + +She instantly turned to the twenty-third psalm, and read it in a clear +voice. When she came to the words, "'Yea, though I walk through the +valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with +me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.'" + +"Yes, yes," he repeated, "they comfort me." + + +Before ten o'clock the next morning, a carriage stopped at the gate, +and the Bishop alighted. He was accompanied by Mr. Temple. + +Emily took her mother's place by the bedside, while she went below. + +The good Bishop, with deep sympathy and solicitude, inquired concerning +the sick man, and Mrs. Washburn, without a tear, gave him an account of +her husband's illness. She described his state of rapture, his exalted +views of God's glory, and the richness of his love to fallen man, in +sending Jesus Christ as a propitiation for their sins. + +The Bishop, with feeling, remarked, "It is better to go to the house of +mourning, than to the house of feasting. You have indeed had a glorious +privilege to witness such triumph." + +He was interrupted by a strain of music from the chamber above. It was +a strain of rapture. + + "Salvation, oh, the joyful sound, + 'Tis music in our ears, + A sovereign balm for every wound, + A cordial for our fears." + +Not a word was spoken until the song was finished, and then the lady +explained,— + +"It is my daughters, singing to their father. He often requests them to +sing, and names the words. I will tell him you are here." + +She returned almost instantly, with a request that they would follow +her to the chamber. + +The Rector was raised nearly to a sitting position. His breathing +was so difficult that every respiration could be distinctly observed +through the counterpane which covered him, but his face was more than +serene. It was stamped with holy joy. + +"Welcome friends," he said, as they approached the bed, and grasped his +hot, dry hand. "I'm almost through. The Lord is very gracious to me." + +After words of sympathy and affection from the Bishop, he asked,— + +"Have you no regret in leaving the world just at this juncture?" + +"The Lord God is my Lord. He will vindicate my cause." Then added with +an expression of fervor,— + + "'They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion that cannot be +removed.' + + "'The Lord is on my side; I will not fear: what can man do unto me?'" + +"Happy indeed are those who can rest their burden on the Lord," +murmured the Bishop, his eyes filling with tears. + +"There have been times of late," said the sick man, speaking slowly +and with great effort, "when I have had to fortify my mind with His +promises.— + + "'Though I walk in the midst of trouble, Thou wilt revive me: Thou +shalt stretch forth Thine hand against the wrath of Thine enemies, and +Thy right hand shall save me.'" + +Mr. Temple rose from his chair and left the room, but almost +immediately returned, his countenance expressive of deep emotion. + +"Mr. Washburn," he said, grasping the hand of the sick man, "I have +wronged you in thought and in word. Can you forgive me?" + +A bright smile illumined the sick man's face, as he replied,— + +"Truly and fully I forgive you. I trust we shall spend a blessed +eternity together in sounding the praises of our common Master." + +"Thank you." And kneeling by the bedside, he touched his lips to the +Rector's hand. + +Emily, at this moment, went to the bed to give her father his quinine, +and he made her understand that he wanted the Bishop to pray. + +"Thank you," he said, when the prayer was ended. "It has done me good—I +feel better," he said slowly, and indeed he did speak with less effort. + +The visitors rose at once to leave, the Bishop saying,— + +"It has been good to be here. It is indeed like the gate of Heaven." + +They went down stairs, but seemed reluctant to leave the house without +seeing one of the physicians. + +The sick man, after taking part of a cup of broth, sank into a quiet +sleep. + +"What is this? I cannot account for this change," exclaimed Dr. Rand, +after a short examination of his patient an hour or two later. + +"Is it a favorable change?" + +"Certainly. Every symptom is improved." + +"It may be that the Lord has heard the prayer of a good man," said the +patient, with a smile which was not of earth. + +"Our Bishop has been here," explained Marion. "Papa at once said he +felt better." + +And indeed, wonderful to relate, from this time the sharp distress in +the chest abated, the breathing became more natural. Soon the effects +of the tonics and nourishing broths became apparent in the increasing +strength of the sick man, until, on the morning of the second day after +the crisis, he seemed to realize his own improvement. + +His wife was wiping his face with a damp cloth, when he looked up at +her, and asked with deep solemnity,— + +"Mary, am I coming back to the world?" + +"We hope so. Do you regret it?" + +He paused a moment before replying. "I was near enough," he said, "to +hear the harpers with their harps, and their song ever was,— + + "'Worthy is the lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and +wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing.' + +"Still," he added, after a long pause, "life is sweet. I would like to +do something for my Master, to show Him my gratitude." + + +On the third day after this, Drs. Sumner and Rand met in the sick +chamber for the last time. After giving his patient some general +advice, Dr. Sumner said,— + +"Mr. Washburn, under God, you owe your life to this young man. His care +and skill have been blessed to your recovery. As he says he shall not +cease his visits at present, there will be no need of my coming except +occasionally as a friend." + +The Rector expressed his thanks to both of them, in which his wife most +fervently joined. Marion, who had been waiting on her father, rose and +left the room. It was some time before she heard the firm step she had +learned to know so well, and going out into the hall to meet him she +began,— + +"Dr. Rand, how can I thank you?" Then overcome by her emotion, she +covered her face and wept. + +"Miss Marion," he said, gently, "you owe me no gratitude; I have done +as much for a hundred patients in the hospital who never thought of +thanks. It has been a great privilege to be here. Many times while +watching over him and thinking a few hours must be the end, I have +prayed as I never prayed before,— + + "'Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like +his.' + +"Yes," he added, tenderly taking her hand from her face, "on many +accounts which I cannot explain to you now, I consider these visits the +most fortunate of my whole practice." + + +In a few weeks, Mr. Washburn was able to leave his room and go below +to his meals. He now gained strength rapidly, and talked as though he +should soon be able to preach. His wife often wondered whether he would +again propose a trial, but as yet she had said nothing to him on the +subject. + +Emily had, weeks before, received her trunk from U—. The Christmas +holidays were so near that she resolved not to return till New Year's, +and perhaps not till Easter. She had received most affectionate letters +from Judge and Mrs. Wilson, also from her friends at the school, and +from Cecilia, in Washington. The latter said she was getting tired +of entertaining visitors for her brother, and wished he would marry +so that she could be with her parents who were not well. Emily was +confident, however, from the tone of her friend's letter, that she had +not an idea that he had asked any one to be his wife. Indeed, whenever +Emily's thoughts recurred to that strange interview, it seemed like the +wildest dream. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE STRANGE PROPOSITION. + +ONE evening toward the last of December, the Rev. Mr. Whiting called, +and was shown into the Rector's study. He had always exhibited marked +respect toward his predecessor, and had held himself entirely aloof +from the rumors circulated in regard to the fraud. During the Rector's +late sickness, he had been a frequent visitor, and confessed to his +young wife that the lessons he learned in that sick chamber, were +worth more than all the sermons on preparation for death that he had +ever heard. He now came to invite Mr. Washburn to present the cause of +missions to his former people, assuring him that if he felt equal to +the effort, he would greatly delight his old friends, and he hoped they +would contribute generously to the cause. + +As he entered the study, the Rector was writing, and merely pushed the +sheet of paper from his hand, before rising to welcome the visitor. +Before they concluded the arrangement, Mr. Washburn passed the nearly +finished letter to Mr. Whiting, with this remark— + +"You are no doubt aware, sir, that an examination by a Committee of +Reference, concerning certain charges against me was only delayed by +my illness. As you will see by my note to them,—" passing him the open +sheet,—"my desire is that a new and early appointment be made for the +trial. Would it not be best to delay my presentation of the cause to +your people until after that has taken place?" + +Mr. Whiting hastened to assure him that he was confident the accusers +were laboring under a mistake. + +"Stop, sir," urged the Rector, with a smile, "you are prejudging the +case." Then with great seriousness, he added, "It is certainly true +that there is a discrepancy in the accounts, and I shall never rest +until this is accounted for. I look to the examiners to help me. The +more carefully they go over the ground, the more grateful I shall be +to them. If during my attacks of dizziness, I disposed of several +thousands of dollars of money contributed in charity, I hope their +researches will discover what I did with it. Otherwise I shall have to +make this loss good, which at my age, I confess will be a heavy burden +to me. That is exactly how the case stands. Now if you prefer to have +me postpone preaching for your people for a few weeks, I will do so." + +"No, indeed, sir. I shall take it as a mark of friendship, if you +will occupy the pulpit next Sunday, a part or the whole of the day, +as you feel able." He rose, and seizing the Rector's hand, shook it +warmly, saying, "I respect you, sir, more than I can express, for this +confidence in one so much younger than yourself. Should I ever be +placed in such an unfortunate position, I hope I shall profit by your +example." + +"Ah!" responded the Rector, with quick feeling. "I can give you a good +staff to help you over a rough road:— + + "'Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee.' + +"His promise is sure." + + +Before the letter to the Committee was sent, Mr. Washburn read it to +his wife and two older daughters. + +"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Emily. "How glad I shall be to have it over." + +As she was intending to go to the city for some calls, her father +requested her to leave the letter with his clerk at his office, for the +moment forgetting that it might not be pleasant for her to meet Barnes +Bailey. How little any of those present realized that this meeting +was one of a series of circumstances which their Heavenly Father had +arranged to result in the complete vindication of his afflicted servant. + +On her way to the city, Emily's reluctance to meet her father's clerk +every moment increased, until at length, she resolved to call at a +friend's house, and send a messenger with the letter to the office. + +"But this is cowardly," she said to herself. "It is early; I will go +there first. Probably he will not be in, and I can leave it on his +table." + +Her hope, however, of not seeing him was disappointed. Her knock at the +office door was instantly answered, and Barnes Bailey, not having yet +removed his hat and coat, came to open it. + +At the sight of her, he started back in great confusion, his face +flushing painfully. He held out his hand, and instantly recovering +himself, paid her a fulsome compliment on her improved appearance, +excusing his momentary surprise by saying, "I was just thinking of +your father, or rather of you, in connection with him. In fact, I came +earlier to the office to write you a note." + +"I am in haste," exclaimed Emily, with great dignity, handing him the +letter with her father's directions. "If you have anything to say to my +father, or to me, you can come to Canterbury." + +"No! No!" he urged eagerly. "It is a confidential communication for +your ear solely. This letter to the Committee is, I suppose, in +reference to your father's trial. I must tell you before that. I beg +you to stop a few moments. Take a chair; I will not detain you long." + +His manner was so abrupt and strange and positive that Emily knew not +how to refuse. Not a suspicion entered her mind of the purport of his +communication. He had rolled her father's arm-chair toward her, and she +sat down, when he excited her indignation again by opening the door +into the hall, looking out, then shutting the door and locking it. + +"I insist upon going, Mr. Bailey," she exclaimed, starting from her +chair. + +He only waved her back to her seat, every particle of color having left +his face. + +"It is for your father's sake—that is partly—that I make this +communication. I am your father's clerk, and so pretty well acquainted +with his affairs. Since he has been ill— and—and before, I have not +been idle. I have suspicions, no, I have almost a certainty that I have +discovered the mistake in regard to the books." + +"Why did not you at once inform my father of this?" + +"For reasons good and satisfactory to me. Miss Emily, it is for you to +decide whether he ever shall be made acquainted with them. I have only +to keep my month shut, and he will be deposed from his office, and end +his days in disgrace. You can save him." + +He approached nearer to her, and bent over her chair. His whole manner +was so violent, and there was such a glare in his eyes that she could +only think of a madman. But the very emergency of the case made her +courage rise. Suppressing every sign of fear, she stood up, drawing +up her form, and throwing back her head in a way she had when under +intense excitement. + +"Explain yourself, Mr. Bailey," she said coldly. "I cannot imagine how +I can help or hinder you." + +"Do you remember your answer to my proposal of marriage?" The words +were almost hissed out. + +She bowed. + +"Reverse that answer, and I will set your father free." + +"Do you not know my father better than to suppose he would purchase his +freedom by the sacrifice of his daughter's happiness?" Her tone was +freezing. + +"I give you three days to decide," he said, trying to control his +passion. "But you must decide for yourself. If you determine to accept +my offer, I will devote my life to your happiness. If not—why—the +charges of fraud will be sustained." + +"God will take care of those charges, sir. Now I must go. I'll thank +you to unlock the door." + +"Remember," he said, "three days," obeying her. + +"Three days," she repeated, leaving the room with a slight bow. + + +Emily's friend was intensely astonished when, on going to the parlor +to give a cordial welcome to her favorite schoolmate, the young lady +rushed into her arms with a burst of tears. + +For a few minutes, she wept so violently that she could give no answer +to the repeated inquiry,— + +"What is it, dear? What can it be, Emily?" + +"Papa has been very ill, you know," she replied, evasively, "and—and—my +nerves are shaken, and—I met an old acquaintance, and—I'm all worried +and nervous. Don't mind me. I'll be better, presently." + +The young lady was well acquainted with the charges against Rev. Mr. +Washburn, which, however, she knew him too well to believe. But she at +once attributed Emily's agitation to a meeting in which the trial had +been discussed, and did not wonder at it. + +"You're to spend the day with me," she urged, rising to take off her +friend's hat and sack. + +"I can't. It is impossible. I'll come another time. I've come in to +make some calls, and I want you to go with me. Don't refuse, for I need +you." + +Seeing that she was in earnest, her friend consented, and after a few +minutes rose to prepare for the walk. + +As it was a fine winter morning, two of her friends were out, and one +was engaged with a sick brother, so that they only left their cards. + +By noon, Emily found herself at the gate of her father's house. During +the ride home, she had reflected on the strange conduct of Mr. Bailey, +and resolved, for the present, to say nothing to her parents on the +subject, but to write a minute account of the transaction to her friend +Judge Wilson. Could she have imagined that he would send it by the next +mail to Hon. Frederic Lawrence, she would have hesitated. But this fact +she did not know. Once, indeed, she resolved to take the cars, make a +flying visit to U—, talk with the Judge, make some arrangement with +Duxbury about her classes, and be home before the Sabbath, but this, on +farther reflection, she gave up. + +She went at once to the study, merely said, "I did your errand, papa," +and left him, without giving time for farther questions. + + +Fortunately at dinner, Josey had a long story to tell of some plan for +a grand coasting party, and no one noticed Emily's appearance, except +her mother, who asked kindly,— + +"Did you suffer from the cold, my dear? Your cheeks show that you have +been exposed to the wind." + +The afternoon was passed by Emily in covering three sheets with fine +writing. The more she reflected on what had passed, the more importance +she attached to the words of the clerk. + +"I always distrusted him," she said half aloud, "now I believe him +capable of any iniquity." + +The western mail left the city at eight in the morning. If the letter +went the next day, it must be taken to the Canterbury office in season +for the evening hourly. She resolved, therefore, to carry it at once, +and inviting Marion to accompany her in a walk, set off in season to +return before dark. + +On their way, they met Dr. Rand in his sleigh. + +Emily smiled to see how Marion blushed as she recognized him. + +He jumped from his sleigh, and asked whether he should not have the +pleasure of seeing them at the Rectory. + +Marion pressed her sister's arm, as a signal for her to turn back, but +she answered,— + +"We are only going to the office, and shall be home almost as soon as +you are." + +"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I'm going farther on to see a patient, but I +intended to call on my way back." + +"Mother would be delighted to have you take tea with us," Emily said. + +At which happy suggestion Marion gave her arm another squeeze. + +"Thank you; I'll be there with pleasure. Duke has already become +acquainted with your father's stable." He jumped into his sleigh, and +raising his seal-skin cap, with a low bow, dashed away. + +"I have a great respect for Dr. Rand," said Emily, as they walked on. +"I think him a true gentleman." + +"I can't help thanking him for his attention to papa," murmured Marion, +blushing again. + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE COMMITTEE OF REFERENCE. + +THE Committee had appointed the second week in January for their +adjourned meeting. The first session was to be on Tuesday at ten +o'clock. The Bishop had met Mr. Washburn by appointment at his office, +and had told him that if he had changed his mind, and would like the +counsel of a lawyer in regard to any point, or to make a statement of +his case, Mr. Temple would be glad to act for him. He explained that +since Mr. Washburn's illness, this gentleman had become a staunch +friend—that if the Rector would give him an opportunity to show his +full confidence in the honesty and ability displayed in the management +of the Society, he would be very grateful. + +In return, the Rector had promised if he needed any aid to call upon +Mr. Temple, but added with a smile, "I do not want legal advisers to +help me cover up any acts of mine. I need all the aid I can get to go +to the bottom of this difficulty, and bring the hidden things to light. +In regard to the final result, I feel as sure as that God's promises +are true, that He will bring me forth and set my feet in a large place." + +The Bishop placed his hand on the Rector's shoulder, saying, "You are a +happy man. Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him." + +The Sunday previous to the trial, the Rector preached in the city near +by, and Mrs. Washburn accompanied him, intending to return home on +Sunday evening. Mrs. Hall, the friend wish whom they stopped, begged +permission to accompany Mrs. Washburn to the room where the trial was +to take place. She also insisted that the whole family should take +their dinners with her, as there was to be a morning and afternoon +session. + +The same Sunday the Rector's family had taken their seats in their own +slip, when, happening to glance toward a side pew, Emily met the eyes +of the member from Michigan fixed full upon her. Her surprise was so +great that the blood flew into her cheeks, and her heart beat so fast +that she could scarcely breathe. + +In a moment, Marion and Ruth recognized him, and bowed. + +Josey, who was next his sister Emily, touched her and whispered, "There +is Mr. Lawrence. I'm going to speak to him after service. I'm very well +acquainted with him." + +It was in vain Emily resolved not to turn her eyes in that direction. +There is a kind of fascination when one feels that the eyes of another +are fastened on them, and her disobedient orbs continually wandered in +the direction of Mr. Lawrence. + +When the hymn was given out, Joseph noticed that the gentleman had no +book, and instantly, without being told, stepped across the aisle to +pass him one. When the service was concluded, Mr. Lawrence joined them, +shook hands cordially with Marion, who then introduced her sister. + +Emily knew that she was blushing furiously, and the consciousness of +this, and the vexation she felt that he should witness her confusion, +rendered her unable to explain that she had met him before. + +When out of the church, Marion went forward, and the gentleman, with +only a glance behind, joined her, leaving Emily with Ruth. Josey had +seized Mr. Lawrence's hand, and was begging him to go home with them to +dinner. + +He declined, however, but said he should be happy to come in after the +next service and hear them sing. He walked quite to their own gate, and +then left them with a bow. + +Emily rushed up to her chamber, thankful that she could be alone and +collect her thoughts. + +"Yes," she soliloquized, sitting on the side of the bed, without +waiting to remove her outer garments, "Congress is in session, but he +has heard of papa's trial, and has come on to be present. I wonder +whether he has heard about Barnes Bailey's ridiculous proposition. I +suppose Judge Wilson must have told him. How foolish in me to receive +him as a stranger. I wish I could be as much at ease as Marion is. He +evidently likes her very much, and he told Judge Wilson he thought her +handsome." + +She sighed, and then proceeded to take off her hat, at the same time +resolving the first time his name was mentioned, to tell Marion that +she had seen him in U—. + +This she did while her back was turned, so as to hide the tell-tale +blushes. Emily was laying the table for lunch, when she said in as +careless a tone as possible,— + +"Do you remember in my letters, I wrote you of a dear friend, Cecilia +Lawrence. This is her brother. I met him at Judge Wilson's." + +"Oh, did you?" replied her sister, looking up from her work. "How funny +that I introduced you then. But perhaps he didn't recollect it, meeting +you so far away. I think he's an elegant man." + +Emily made no reply, but having finished her task, took a book and +seated herself to read. + +Soon after tea, a sudden and rather peremptory ring at the door-bell, +made poor Emily almost jump from her chair. It was Mr. Lawrence, who +apologized for coming so early, by saying that he found it very lonely +being by himself at a strange boarding-house. + +"Father and mother will be here soon," urged Marion, "and I'm confident +they will not allow you to return there." + +Emily said nothing. Indeed, in Mr. Lawrence's presence, she could not +resist a return of the old feeling that, for some reason, he disliked +her; for except meeting his eyes fixed upon her in the old grave way, +he took little notice of her presence. While with Marion, he was as +familiar as though he had known her all his life. + +At an early hour, Mr. and Mrs. Washburn returned, and the evening was +passed in conversation suited to the day, ending with sacred music and +family worship. + +When the visitor rose to go after having declined Mrs. Washburn's +cordial invitation to spend the night, he remarked that this was one of +the occasions which left pleasant memories to be carried through life. +He promised to dine with them the next day, as he wished to see Mrs. +Washburn before her husband's trial, and then left with a shake of the +hand all around. When he took Emily's hand, he grasped it so tightly +that the pressure was painful, and he bent over her as though he were +going to speak, but did not. + + +The next day he had a long conversation with Mrs. Washburn, while the +Rector had gone to the city to make some final arrangements for the +coming trial. He told her that having business in the city, he should +endeavor to be present at the trial, and inquired what member of the +Committee he could consult if he wished to ask any question. She +unhesitatingly referred him to Mr. Temple. + +Before he left, he turned abruptly to Emily, and inquired whether she +had heard from her old admirer, Judge Wilson, of late. + +"Yes, sir," she replied. "I had a long, kind letter from his wife, in +which he sent many messages." + +She smiled as she recalled one message, which was that if she did not +bid that man Bailey to keep his hands off, he, the Judge, would send +him to prison. + +She had indeed, the very day after meeting the clerk at the office, +written him a brief answer to his proposition, in which she assured +him that nothing on earth would ever induce her to accede to his +wishes,—that she trusted the defence of her father to One who was well +able to bring all hidden things to light. + + +The day of the trial came at last. It had been decided that for greater +convenience, it should take place in the Episcopal rooms, and chairs +had been set around for the Committee, with the Bishop in his official +robes at the head. There was a long table piled with books,—the canons +of the church—books of common law, and the large leather books in which +the Treasurer had kept his accounts. + +Opposite the Committee, an arm-chair had been placed for the Rector, +and behind him about a dozen chairs which were at once occupied by +Mrs. Washburn and her two elder daughters, together with Mr. and Mrs. +Hall, and a select number of friends who had obtained permission to be +present. Other than these, the trial was to be held with closed doors. + +One request Mr. Lawrence had made of Mrs. Washburn in the interview +referred to. This was that she would get her husband to order his clerk +to be present. + +This she did in the following way. + +"There ought to be some one," she suggested, "to send on an errand, if +you wish a messenger." + +"That will not be necessary," he replied, interrupting her. "I have +already told Mr. Bailey to be there. He can do every thing of that +kind." + +One thing Mr. Lawrence did, of which he made no mention. He hired a +policeman to remain near the door, and to keep this man in sight. Also, +he directed that until the trial closed, the clerk should not be lost +sight of by day or night. + + +At the very minute that the Bishop called the meeting to order, Mr. +Lawrence sat down directly behind Emily, in a chair he had before moved +to that position. + +The Bishop made some brief remarks upon the solemn business before +them: and then read a prayer, at the end of which, he added some +extempore petitions suited to the case in hand. + +I do not propose to weary my readers with a detailed account of the +transactions of the day. I will simply state that a gentleman by the +name of Rogers opened the case, after which, Mr. Washburn having +previously requested the Bishop to call upon him, rose to say a few +words. + +He stated the length of time he had been employed by the Missionary +Association, the number of times he had presented the cause before +different parishes, and in round numbers the sum total that had been +contributed toward its funds. He referred briefly to his health, and +the peculiar symptoms he could only describe by calling it confusion of +ideas. + +"It is a sad fact," he added, "that the accounts during those very +months when I was thus disabled, do not balance, but that several +thousands of dollars appear to be due from me to the Society. I have +endeavored to the best of my ability, to account for this discrepancy, +but so far in vain, and I now call upon you, gentlemen of the +Committee, to give me your aid in solving the mystery. The books of +the Society's accounts, the files of receipted bills, together with my +own memorandum book, and my wife's book of home expenses for the time +since I have been Treasurer, I now place in your hands. The more rigid +you are in your investigations, the greater will be my gratitude. I +now leave myself in your hands, and may God succeed your endeavors to +ascertain the whole truth." + +It was a tedious business going through the accounts, and comparing the +moneys paid out with the receipted bills. When the hour for adjournment +till the afternoon session came, little had been accomplished, but one +fact called special attention. So far, that is during the first six +months of Mr. Washburn's connection with the Society, the accounts +balanced to a cent. + +The intermission was an hour and a half. Emily alone was aware that it +was by her means that Mr. Lawrence had been induced by Judge Wilson to +be present at the trial. She was sure also that it must be at great +inconvenience to himself, and she felt that she in particular owed him +common civility. But resolve and re-resolve as she would, while the +Committee were engaged in their work, she could not summon courage to +speak to him. All she could do was to ask her mother whether it would +not be well to give Mrs. Hall a hint that this gentleman had come from +a distance, and solely for their benefit. The consequence of this hint +was that before they left the room, Mr. Hall invited the stranger to +accompany Mr. Washburn's family to his house for dinner. + +This time, he glanced at Emily, who was, however, so much engaged in +pulling on her glove that she did not look toward him, but Marion +touched his arm, and insisted that he should accept. + +More than this, she insisted that they should all feel better for some +exercise after sitting so quiet, and ascertaining that dinner would not +be served for three-quarters of an hour, she proposed that he should +accompany her and her sister in a walk around the park. + +There was one allusion made by Mr. Lawrence, just as they reached +the steps to Mr. Hall's door, which quite spoiled Emily's pleasure +in the otherwise delightful walk. He had at first talked to her +of Cecilia,—said he was really afraid to tell her he had been in +Canterbury, so dreadful would be her indignation at his not inviting +her to accompany him. + +Then Marion sought to draw from him what he intended to do at the close +of the trial, in case they ascertained nothing concerning the missing +money. + +"Shall you make a speech?" she urged, laughing. "Why don't you make it +at once? Please do." + +"No, Miss Marion," he answered, gravely, as they were ascending the +steps, "I cannot consent to do so, even to oblige you. I lost my case +once—the most important case of my life, by being too precipitate. It +was a serious lesson, but it will be a lasting one." + +Emily happened to be looking at him, and for an instant found it +impossible to withdraw her gaze, so earnestly were his deep set eyes +fastened on hers. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY. + +THE afternoon session was similar to the morning one. Mr. Washburn was +continually appealed to for assistance in dates, etc., while Barnes +Bailey went here and there at the bidding of the court. + +Once, after the clerk had passed near them, his face became almost +purple, as he noticed the distinguished looking stranger attracting the +attention of Emily. + +"Who is that man?" inquired Mr. Lawrence, in a low tone. "He looks like +a villain." + +"He is papa's clerk," was Emily's reply in the same tone, but not +looking at him. + +When the hour for adjournment came, the Committee seemed in excellent +spirits. The Bishop, Mr. Washburn and Mr. Temple were standing +together, when the former remarked,— + +"Our success so far is very encouraging. I have great hopes that by +this time to-morrow, we may have concluded the whole thing." + +[Illustration: The Day of the Trial came at last.] + +"I have never seen accounts kept with greater exactness," observed Mr. +Temple, placing his hand familiarly on the Rector's shoulder. + +"The struggle has not come yet," returned Mr. Washburn, shaking his +head. "I have a vague idea of a large sum paid by me. For months I have +been tortured with the recollection, which yet I cannot get hold of. It +has been my prayer to-day that some one may bring it to mind." + + +In the evening, the Rector was repeating this conversation to his wife, +when Emily came in and stood listening to them. + +"Perhaps you mean, papa, the thousand dollars you invested for me." + +He started forward, gazed searchingly in her face. "Did I ever invest a +thousand dollars for you?" He spoke slowly as though trying to recall +the circumstances. "When was it, dear?" + +"I'll get my bank-book, and that will give you the exact date." + +She ran to her chamber, and he sat holding his head with his hands. + +"There, papa, it was in October, more than a year ago." + +"Just the period that you were suffering, Henry." + +"Thank God!" ejaculated the Rector, fervently. But after a pause, "This +does not help me with the accounts. Still, it is an immense relief. +That thousand dollars has caused me more suffering than you can dream +of, Emily. The clue is caught at last." + + +The next morning, when Emily, accompanied by her parents and Marion, +entered the rooms, she saw Mr. Lawrence conversing in an animated +manner with Mr. Temple. Their faces looked so eager that she pointed +them out to her mamma. + +At that moment, Mr. Lawrence caught sight of them, and left Mr. Temple, +who said at parting— + +"I will arrange it, sir. I agree with you entirely." + +The member from Michigan came toward them, and saluted them in a gay +tone. He then with the words "May I?" moved a chair to Emily's side, +and said to her— + +"I wish our friend Judge Wilson could be here to-day. He would enjoy +it." + +"Do you then feel so hopeful as to the result? If papa is not to be +vindicated so that no shadow of a stain can rest upon him, I would +rather our friends were away." + +"I am advanced a stage beyond hope, Miss Emily; I am positive." + +He feasted his eyes on her radiant face. + +"Oh, Mr. Lawrence!" she exclaimed. "You have removed such a weight from +my heart." + +"Have I? Then may I hope that some time, in the distant future, you +will forgive me?" + +"I was not aware that I had anything to forgive." Her voice was so low +that only by bending nearer could he hear her. + +He gazed at her downcast eyes, uttering the words, "Thank you," in an +eager tone. + +The meeting was now called to order. Mr. Lawrence kept his position +between Emily and her mother, and during the rather monotonous +proceedings of the forenoon, contrived to let the young lady know that +her last words had made him very happy. He seemed to take immense +delight in turning, at the least pretext, to gaze in her face, and +watch the rosy hue deepen on her cheeks, while these lines of a +well-known writer were floating through his mind,— + + "Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace; + You turned from the fairest to gaze on her face." + +"Why!" exclaimed Emily, naively, when the movement to adjourn was made. +"I had no idea it was so late." + +Then meeting her friend's eyes kindling with pleasure, she turned +abruptly away. + +"We shall expect you at dinner," observed Mr. Hall, addressing Mr. +Lawrence. + +"I accept with pleasure, sir. I have a little business which will +detain me a short time, but I will be there at the hour." + +Emily and her sister resolved to take a short walk as they had done the +previous day. + +On their return to Mr. Hall's house, their ring at the door-bell was +not immediately answered. And supposing the servants to be engaged with +dinner, they ran down the steps again, to the basement entrance. Here +they found a rag and junk man trading with the cook. + +"Yer ought not to come to gentlemen's houses at such an inconvenient +time," she said in a cross tone. "I can't leave my roast to be trading +with ye. No, I paint a bag to put the rags in. Sure, ye ought to find +your own bags." + +"I'll find one," answered the good-humored man. + +So saying, he poured from a large hemp bag a quantity of waste paper +into a basket, and proceeded to fill the same bag with rags to weigh +them. + +Scarcely knowing why she did so, Emily waited a moment, saying in a gay +tone to the cook,— + +"I hope you'll make a good bargain." + +Suddenly her eye caught one of the papers in the basket. It was a long +page written over, and had been crushed in the hand. Her heart almost +stopped beating as she seized the paper, glanced over it, recognized +instantly her father's handwriting, and more than suspected it to be a +page from his account-book. Suppressing a scream, she asked the ragman,— + +"Have you more of these? I would like them, and will pay you double +what the paper is worth." + +She eagerly turned over the rubbish in the basket, and succeeded in +finding one other sheet. + +"Where did you get these?" handing him a dime. + +He laughed. "That's more than I can tell, Miss." + +"Do you ever go to gentlemen's offices?" + +"Yes, Miss, I get lots of papers at lawyer's offices, stores, and such +like." + +With a face blanched with emotion, Emily ran up stairs to find her +sister, and impart the joyful news. The door-bell rang as she was going +through the upper hall, and supposing it to be her parents, she opened +it, and admitted Mr. Lawrence. + +"Oh!" she cried, holding out the clutched pages. "My father is saved! +My father is saved!" + +Tears filled her eyes, as exhausted with the depth of her joy, she +sank on the stairs and watched the lawyer, as his keen eyes possessed +themselves of the contents of the sheets. + +"Wonderful! Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "It is a direct answer to the +prayers of your good father." + +Then ascertaining that the back parlor was unoccupied, he took her hand +and drew her to a chair. She was so much agitated, he feared she would +faint. + +"Shall I ring for some water?" he asked tenderly. + +"No, sir. Where is papa? I must tell him." + +"When you are better, I want to ask you a favor. There, the color is +coming back. I don't think you'll faint now." + +"I am better," she said, removing her hat, which he instantly took from +her hand, "and I'm so very happy. Dear, dear papa." + +He sat down near her, and in a few rapid words told her he was not +unprepared for this discovery. He then made a statement to her as +to his plan for the afternoon session, and begged her to leave the +precious sheets in his care, and to say nothing of them till night. + +When the dinner-bell rang, Mr. and Mrs. Washburn came from the library, +which was in the second story, and were somewhat surprised to see that +their daughter had not yet removed her sack. + +"You look tired," said her mother. "You had better remain quietly at +home this afternoon." + +"Oh, mamma, not for the world!" + +Mr. Washburn sighed. "The battle is only commenced," he said. "God +alone knows what will be the result." + +"I'm sure," added Marion, "that Emily looks as though she knew what +would be the end. See how triumphantly she smiles." + +"I can see that she has faith in God's promise to answer the prayers of +His children," remarked Mr. Lawrence, seriously. "I have been taught +that we may ask for any favors that we need, however trifling they may +seem. For instance, the burden of your father's prayers has been that +God would throw light upon the obscurity that surrounds him. Ought we +not to expect He will do it, and do it to-day?" + +"Certainly his power is equal to that," replied Mrs. Washburn. + +"I know He will," exclaimed Emily, tears gushing to her eyes. + +On their way back to the rooms, Mr. Lawrence walked with Emily and her +sister. They had not gone far from the house when they met Dr. Rand, +who said he had been to the rooms hoping to meet them, as he wished to +obtain a pass for the afternoon session. + +Marion assured him there would be no objection made if he went with +them, but she added, "I fear you will find it very dull." + +They went on together a little in advance. + +Emily explained to her companion, how much the family were indebted to +the young physician, who was said to be very skilful. + +"He looks like a man of power. I can see that he admires your sister. I +hope she will reciprocate his affection." + +Emily expressed her astonishment that he could judge so much by one +glance. + +"I am not surprised that you should consider me stupid," he urged +without looking at her. "When I recall my conduct toward yourself, I +confess I wonder at your kindness in saying you forgive me. Conceited +fool that I was, to imagine that you were acquainted with my dearest +hopes; that you even suspected whose image filled all my thoughts. But +this is not a proper time nor place for the confession I wish to make, +and yet as I must leave in the morning—" + +"What time does the Bishop adjourn the meeting?" inquired Marion, +suddenly stopping in her walk. + +"I hope the trial will be at an end this afternoon," replied Mr. +Lawrence, rather annoyed. + +"Miss Emily, your mother has very kindly invited me to spend my last +night at her house. Shall I accept her invitation?" + +"We should all be happy to see you, sir." + +"Thank you. I shall go. And, Miss Emily, I feel that I shall speak +better, this afternoon, than I ever did before. There is an elixir +called hope which is circulating through my veins, and renders me +buoyant. I could do or dare anything, to-day. I shall be only too happy +if I don't do something ridiculous." + +"I don't recognize you at all as the grave, reticent Mr. Lawrence I met +at U—," murmured Emily, with a smile. + +"I'm glad of that. Let him go; I'm disgusted with him." + +She laughed merrily at his comic air. "Here we are!" she added. "And +there's papa just going in. Who is that man with a star on his coat?" + +"The Sheriff who is to see that the orders of the Court are executed. +Don't tremble, he understands his business." + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XXI. + +GOD'S ANSWER TO PRAYER. + +WHEN they entered the room, the Committee were gathered around the +Bishop, consulting in reference to the business of the afternoon. +Their countenances were perplexed. The Bishop's denoted weariness and +anxiety. Mr. Temple came up the stairs, and after glancing into the +room, gave the Sheriff a chair near the door. + +Mr. Washburn sat alone, his head resting on his hand, while in the +corner farthest from him, Barnes Bailey stood looking gloomily on. + +"What is the course of procedure this afternoon?" inquired Mr. Temple, +approaching the Bishop. + +"We are entirely at a loss," was the perplexed reply. "We seem to be at +a point where it is impossible to proceed." Then lowering his voice, he +added, "I am so confident of the integrity of our Treasurer that I am +extremely reluctant to have the suspicion of unfaithfulness rest upon +him. He looks to us, with God's help, to vindicate him." + +"And with God's help, we will do it," exclaimed Mr. Temple, warmly. + +He then drew the Bishop one side, and placing a card in his hand, +explained that if the Committee would call upon him, the Honorable Mr. +Lawrence, member of Congress, from Michigan, had facts which would seem +to throw some light on the subject. + +"Will Mr. Washburn consent, sir?" + +"There is no occasion to ask him. It is in order, I believe, that you +should call upon him, or, if you prefer, I will introduce him to the +Committee." + +"That will be best," returning the card. "Does the Treasurer know of +these facts?" + +"No, sir; he has no suspicion of them." + +The Bishop returned to his seat, and the gentlemen of the Committee +followed his example. + +Mr. Lawrence occupied a chair next to Emily, as in the morning, and Dr. +Rand sat by Marion. + +The Bishop then stated that the account-books had been thoroughly +examined, and compared with the receipted bills, and also with the +monthly reports of the Treasurer. The books had been kept well, and +there was a remarkable degree of exactness, with the exception of a +few months when Mr. Washburn had been suffering from disease which +affected his head, and at times, his memory. He said that so fully +convinced were the Committee that if the discrepancy were the fault +of the Treasurer, it was an involuntary fault for which he was not +accountable, that they were ready to urge upon him their desire that he +continue to fill a position in which he had been so signally blest. + +"And I may here say," he urged, speaking with great emphasis, "that +such is our desire. Still," he added, "I am well aware that our +respected Treasurer will be grievously disappointed if this perplexing +mystery is not solved, and I am happy to say that one of our number, +Mr. Temple, will soon introduce to you a gentleman, who, I am told, has +it in his power to throw some light on this dark subject." + +This announcement caused great excitement, and to no one more than +to Mr. Washburn, who turned eagerly in his chair to learn who the +gentleman was. Mr. Temple took his stand at one end of the long table, +when our friend from Michigan, rose quietly from his seat and joined +him. + +"It is my pleasure, Bishop and gentlemen of the Committee, to introduce +to you Honorable Mr. Lawrence, member of Congress, from Michigan, to +whose remarks, I am confident, you will listen with great interest." + +"Gentlemen," began Mr. Lawrence, his tone low but so distinct that +every syllable could be heard all over the room, "I am a stranger among +you, but I hope you will not infer from that circumstance that I have +no interest in the result of your investigations. I have an absorbing +interest,—the interest which every Christian man must feel in the +prevalence of right over wrong, of truth and virtue over falsehood and +crime. + +"While on a tour through this part of the country last autumn, my +attention was directed to some items in the public journals of the +day," taking some newspaper scraps from his pocket, "by a learned Judge +of law, who assured me he had reason to know the accusations in these +items were entirely false. As I was comparatively at leisure, my friend +requested me to look into the case which, though an entire stranger +to your Treasurer, there were reasons which led me to acquiesce in +his wish. My first business was to find out the writer of this cruel +innuendo," reading— + + "'We regret to learn that in one of our most prominent benevolent +societies, the fraud which has for some time been suspected, has been +traced to the Treasurer, Rev. Henry Washburn, a gentleman who has +enjoyed the confidence and affection of the churches for years. It is +said that thousands of dollars, the contribution of widows and orphans +to the Cause of missions, has been diverted from its sacred object, and +have not been accounted for.' + +"This was comparatively an easy task. The item was, as you perceive, +anonymous; and great pains had been taken by the author to secure its +insertion without signature. Having happily accomplished this, I had +now a clue to start upon. My next business was to inquire into the +standing and antecedents of the author." + +Barnes Bailey here arose, his face purple with rage, and was making his +way toward the door, when the speaker, in a tone of sarcasm, added, "I +hope the audience will be quiet. But as some seem uneasy, I request +that Sheriff Colburn be instructed to lock the door. To proceed: I +learned that the author now resided in the city, but that he had +formerly been connected with Mr. Washburn's church in Canterbury. To +Canterbury, therefore, I went, and the result of my inquiries was this. +The author had, years before, been convicted of grave charges, namely, +stealing and forgery. For these he had been dealt with by the Rector +in the most faithful manner, and finally giving no sign of penitence, +he had been excommunicated from the church. After a series of years, +however, he changed his course, appeared truly penitent, confessed to +the Rector, and after a suitable time, was again received as a member +of the church; not long after which event, he applied for and received +an appointment as clerk of your Missionary Association." + +Here Mr. Bailey suddenly threw up the window near him, and made an +attempt to jump out, but Sheriff Colburn seized him, forced him into a +seat, and sat down near him. When the excitement had a little subsided, +the speaker went on calmly as though nothing had occurred. + +"On learning these facts, I called on your Treasurer, and introducing +myself as a member of the legal profession, offered myself as Counsel +in the management of his cause before a Committee of Reference, which I +had ascertained he had requested to be convened. I mentioned the fact +that as two of this Committee were lawyers, he ought to have one near +him who understood the technicalities of the profession. If I made a +mistake, gentleman," added the speaker with a smile, "it was because +it had never been my happiness to be present on an occasion like the +present, which I shall always consider a model of Christian charity and +good will. + +"Your Treasurer, however, thanked me, but firmly declined. And when I +rather urgently pressed him for his reasons, he said he had given his +cause to the care of One who was able, unaided, to vindicate the right. +Never shall I forget the expression of perfect faith in God which +lighted up his features, as he repeated these passages of holy writ: + +"'They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion that cannot be +removed.' + +"'The Lord is on my side I will not fear. What can man do unto me?' + +"Notwithstanding my belief that he was a man to be envied, I concluded +that it was my duty to continue my investigations. I made several +calls at the office. I made my appearance there early and late. Under +the clerk's desk was a basket filled with waste paper. I took the +liberty to examine it. I found this piece of blotting pad. It may seem +worthless to you, but I considered it a prize. On its surface you see," +holding it up, "a distinct impression of several names written again +and again, like a child copying his lesson. + +"On my next visit, I made a still greater discovery, which was that two +and perhaps three leaves had been skilfully removed from the book of +recorded expenditures. + +"Mr. Sheriff, I desire to direct your attention to the person next you." + +All turned to gaze at Barnes Bailey, whose features were distorted with +rage, his eyes glaring like those of a wild animal. + +The Sheriff took the door key from his pocket, passed it to a +gentleman near him, with a request that he would ask the policeman +waiting outside, to come in. Then with a low spoken threat in case +of resistance, and a significant movement in the direction of his +hand-cuffs, the Sheriff motioned to Mr. Lawrence to go on. + +"The leaves which had been removed relate to the months during which +the whole discrepancies appear." + +At this happy announcement, Mr. Washburn started to his feet, and +unable to repress his emotion, said aloud,— + +"I thank the Lord because he has heard my cry and answered me." + +"I had made discoveries sufficient for my purpose," Mr. Lawrence went +on, "and started for the West, resolving to return at the time of +the trial. This, you know, was postponed on account of the dangerous +illness of your Treasurer. When I learned through my friend, the Judge, +that the Committee were to meet this week, I left my seat in Congress, +feeling it due to the cause of humanity and religion, to come before +you, and state these facts known only to myself and my legal friend. +But I have not yet finished. Morning and night your Treasurer has +cried to his God for deliverance, and to-day that deliverance has been +accomplished. Yes, gentlemen, through a chain of events, ordered in +infinite love, and in answer, as I fully believe to the fervent prayers +of this righteous man, the very sheets, torn by the hand of malignant +cruelty from your account-books have fallen, as it were, at our very +feet. These sheets, in so far as I have had opportunity to examine +them, exactly agree with your Treasurer's report for the months of +August and September. And thus with these proofs of the guilt of one +party," glancing toward the clerk, "you have the means of a full, free +and glorious vindication of the character of your Treasurer." + +The speaker had scarcely taken his seat amidst a burst of applause, +when, with a yell of rage, Barnes Bailey snatched a pistol from his +breast-pocket and levelled it at Mr. Lawrence's head. But the Sheriff +being on the watch, knocked up his arm, and the ball entered the +ceiling above. + +All was instantly confusion, but it was at once quelled by the Sheriff, +who produced his iron bracelets, and secured his prisoner from doing +farther damage. It was the work of a few minutes only, to take him from +the room, force him into a hack waiting at the door, and start with him +for the jail. + +These startling events had succeeded each other with such rapidity that +a short time was necessary before a sufficient amount of order could +be restored for the transaction of any farther business. Mr. Temple +obtained the missing pages, and by comparing them with those in the +book, speedily ascertained the object of the manipulation. The clerk +had insisted that he had never received his wages for more than a year. +A large bill for printing, also, he urged was due. He had stated to the +Committee that the man had called several times for his pay, but was +put off; and at last, he started for the West, leaving the business in +his hands. + +Mr. Washburn, when called upon, had testified that he had a very strong +impression that Mr. Bailey's salary had been paid semi-annually, in +accordance with his request. But as no such records were found in the +books, and no receipts in the files of these documents, his statement +was reluctantly received as correct. Of the printer's bill, the +Treasurer could recollect nothing, except that such a bill was due, and +he thought it had been paid. + +The torn sheets suggested the reason for taking them out, thus +destroying the testimony that the bills had been paid. The receipted +bills, Mr. Bailey had no doubt also destroyed. + +The moment Mr. Temple announced these facts, a resolution was framed +and passed in which the Committee expressed their utmost confidence in +their Treasurer, their sympathy in his past suffering, and their joy +that his character, in the words of their Honorable friend, had been so +fully, freely and gloriously vindicated. + +Mr. Washburn, meantime, sat with his face covered, the unbidden tears +trickling through his fingers. When the resolution, so flattering to +him, passed almost by acclamation, his wife touched him as a reminder +that he ought to make a response, but he only waved his hand to signify +that he was utterly unable to do so. + +The Bishop then remarked that it would be ungrateful and unworthy the +character of Christian men, to separate until they had given thanks +to Almighty God for the great favor he had vouchsafed to them, in +answering the prayers of His godly servant, and bringing light out of +darkness. + +This closing exercise was a solemn and affecting one, an exercise long +to be remembered. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XXII. + +CONCLUSION. + + "MY BELOVED CECILIA:— + + "You say in your letter received last evening, that you fear I have +forgotten my old friend. Never were you farther from the truth. I +love you, Cecilia, for the warm heart which led you to show so much +kindness to a stranger, and I love you for the many traits of your own +character. I am going to give you a proof of my love and confidence—a +proof given as yet to no other. Cecilia, how I wish you were by my +side, that I might hide my burning face, blushing at the bare idea of +putting a record of my happiness on paper. You asked me once whether +I had ever been in love, and laughed at my indignant 'no.' If you +were to ask that question now, my answer would be different. Yes, +Cecilia, dearest friend, I have found one worthy of my deepest, truest +affection. It is not quite twenty-four hours since he confessed that it +was his dearest wish to have me for his own. What could I do otherwise +than give my consent. Not in words. I absolutely had no power to speak; +but he must have inferred it from my silence. Oh, Cecilia, I am so +happy. I feel like a poor, fluttering bird who has found safe shelter. +Papa and mamma have given their full, hearty consent, though they have +not yet recovered from their astonishment, never having a suspicion of +our interest in each other. But that was because they were so absorbed +in grave subjects of which I will tell you at another time. + + "Papa told me that it made his heart sore to think of my leaving home +permanently, but that if he were to give me to any one, he could not +choose a nobler, more reliable Christian man; and he gave his consent +with the full confidence that my friend would be a tender, considerate +husband, whose influence would lead me to higher degrees of holiness +and happiness. My dear one left this morning, and I feel that he has +carried away a large part of myself. I thank God for such a friend, who +will be so wise a counsellor, and who will help me to correct my many +faults. + + "Mamma told me this morning that there seemed to be a conspiracy to get +away her daughters. Dr. Rand asked papa, last evening, to allow him to +visit here and try to win my sister Marion. + + "With tender love, your own— + + "EMILY. + + "P. S. I have read my letter over, and am almost afraid to send it. To +you only could I thus unburden my heart of its happiness. Then you will +blame me for not mentioning the name of my 'friend.' Well, dear, I will +not give you a half confidence; so, if you wish very much to know, you +may ask—your brother Frederic." + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78705 *** |