A PARTING GLANCE.
DR. DENNIS and his friend, the Rev. Mr. Harrison met again at the street
corner; they stopped and shook hands, as they always did, even if they
chanced to meet three times in one day.
"Meetings closed?" questioned Mr. Harrison, after the preliminary words
had been spoken. "What a glorious time you have had! Such a pity that
our flocks are so far apart! If we could have united with you in regular
attendance, it would have been a great blessing; as it was, many a drop
came to us."
"Yes," Dr. Dennis said, "we have had a great blessing; and I need not
use the past tense, the work is going on yet, although the meetings do
not continue. The work will continue forever, I believe; the truth is,
we have had a new baptism, the members who came to us early in the fall,
came filled with the Spirit, and have worked as no other members of mine
ever did."
"You mean your Chautauqua reinforcement, don't you?"
"Indeed I do; I thank God for Chautauqua every day of my life. What a
dreadful blunder I made when I limited the power of God in the way I did
when we talked that matter over! you remember?"
"I remember," Mr. Harrison said with a peculiar laugh; "It was a
wonderful meeting, but then, after all, were they not rather peculiar
young ladies? It isn't every lady who even after she is converted, lives
just the sort of life that they are living."
"I know," Dr. Dennis said; "Yes, they are unusual, I think; especially
one of them," was his mental addition.
"Especially one of them," murmured Mr. Harrison in his heart; and each
gentleman smiled consciously, neither having the slightest idea what the
other meant by the smile.
Marion Wilbur came down the street with her hands full of school books.
"Good-evening," said Dr. Dennis; "How do you do this evening? Mr.
Harrison, do you know this lady? She is one of my flock."
No, Mr. Harrison did not know her; and introductions followed. After she
passed by, Mr. Harrison said, "I think you told me once that she had
been an infidel?"
"It was a mistake," Dr. Dennis said, hastily. "She had peculiar views,
and I think she imagined herself at one time an unbeliever; but she is
really wonderfully well grounded in the doctrines of the church; she is
like an old Christian."
Many of Dr. Dennis' people were abroad; the next passer by was Eurie
Mitchell; the doctor stopped her. "One minute, Miss Eurie, how is your
mother to-night? Mr. Harrison, do you know Miss Mitchell, the doctor's
daughter?"
Yes, Mr. Harrison had met Miss Mitchell before. In the fast coming dusk,
Dr. Dennis failed to see the flush of embarrassment on his friend's
cheek, as he acknowledged the introduction.
"She is a grand girl," Dr. Dennis said, looking after her. "Her
development is wonderful; more marked of late, I think, than before.
Well, as you say, they were unusual girls, but I tell you, we as pastors
have reason to say: 'God bless Chautauqua.'"
"Amen," said Mr. Harrison, and Dr. Dennis thought him unusually earnest
and intense, especially when he added:
"I propose we go next year, and take with us as many of our respective
flocks as we can beguile into it."
"Aye, that we will," Dr. Dennis answered; then the two gentlemen went on
their respective ways.
It was a large city, and they were both busy ministers, and lived far
apart, and met but seldom, except in their ministerial meetings; there
was chance for each to have interests that the other knew nothing about.
Marion reached home just in time for supper; the table appointments at
that home were not improving; indeed, there were those who said, that
the bread grew sourer every week; this week, it had added to its
sourness, stickiness, that was horrible to one's fingers and throat. The
dried fruit that had been half stewed, was sweetened with brown sugar,
and the looking over process, so necessary to dried fruit, had been
wholly neglected.
But Marion ate her supper, almost entirely unconscious of these little
defects; that is, she accepted them as a matter of course and looked
serene over it. Things were not as they had been on that rainy evening,
when it had seemed to her that she could never, no _never_ eat another
supper in that house; then, it seemed probable that in that house, or
one like unto it, she would have to eat all the suppers that this dreary
life had in store for her; but now, the days were growing fewer in which
this house would be called her home.
No one knew it; at least, no one but herself and two others. She looked
around on her fellow boarders with a pitying smile; that little
sewing-girl at her left, how _many_ such suppers would she have to eat!
"She shall have a nice one every now and then, see if she doesn't," was
Marion's mental conclusion, with a nod of her glad head; there were so
many nice things to be done! Life was so bright.
Hadn't Gracie Dennis whispered to her this very afternoon:
"Miss Wilbur, one of these days I shall hate to come to school, I shall
want to stay at home."
And she answered softly, surreptitiously kissing the glowing cheek
meanwhile:
"The teacher who reigns here shall be your special friend. And you are
to bring her home with you to lovely little teas that shall be waiting
for you."
This matter of "teas" had gotten a strong hold on Marion. Perhaps,
because in no other way had a sense of unhomelike loneliness pressed
upon her, as at that time when families generally gathered together in
pretty homes.
She went up, presently, to her dingy room. Just every whit as dingy now,
as it had been on that rainy evening, but she gave no thought at all to
it. She lighted her fire, and sat down to her writing; not reports
to-night. She must write a letter to Aunt Hannah; a brief letter it
was, but containing a great deal. This was it:
"DEAR AUNT HANNAH:--
"Don't you think, I am going to be married! Now,
you never expected that of me, did you? Neither
did I, but that is the way the matter stands. Now,
the question is: May I come home to the wedding?
The old farm-house is all the home I have, you
know. I hope you will let us come; I am giving you
plenty of notice; we shall not want to come until
after the spring term; one of us wants to be there
by the seventeenth of June, I thought I ought to
tell you before the spring house-cleaning. Let me
hear from you as soon as you can, so that I may
know how to plan.
"I could be married in the church, I presume, but
I feel, and the other one concerned feels so
too,--that I would like to go back to the old
farm-house. We won't make much trouble, nor have
any fuss, you know.
"Dear Aunt Hannah, I am so glad the money gave you
comfort. Then I am so _very_ glad that you thought
about that other matter of which I wrote; that is
the greatest and best thing to have in the world.
I think so now, when I am on the eve of other
blessings; that one stands before them all. The
gentleman whom I am to marry is a minister. He is
very good.
"Aunt Hannah I shall want your advice about all
sorts of sewing when I come home. I shall come in
May, that is, if you let me come at all. I hope
you will. Give my love to Uncle Reuben. My friend
sends his respects to you both. Lovingly,
"Marion J Wilbur."
She had a fondness during those days, for writing out that name in full.
A gentle tap at the door being answered, admitted Flossy Shipley.
"You darling!" said Marion, brightly, as she gave her eager greeting.
"How nice of you to come and see me when you have so much to think of.
Flossy where is Mr. Roberts? Why don't you bring him to call on me?"
"He hasn't time to call on anybody," Flossy said, with a mixture of
pride, and a sort of comic pettishness.
"He has so many poor families on his hands; he and I have been out all
day. Marion you have no idea at all of the places where we have been! I
do think there ought to be an organized system of charity in our church;
something different from the hap-hazard way of doing things that we
have. Mr. Roberts says, that in New York, their church is perfectly
organized to look after certain localities, and that no such thing as
utter destitution can prevail in their section. Don't you think Dr.
Dennis would be interested in such an effort."
"He will be interested in anything that is good," Marion said, with
unusual energy even for her.
Flossy turned her pretty head towards her, and eyed her curiously.
"You like him better than you did; don't you, Marion?"
"Didn't I always like him," Marion asked, with averted face and a laugh
in her voice.
"Oh, you used to think him stiff, and said you felt all shut up in his
presence. Don't you remember our first call at his study?"
"I think I do," Marion answered, bursting into a merry laugh. "Ever so
many things have happened since then, little Flossy!"
"Haven't there!" said innocent Flossy.
"It has been such a wonderful year! dating from that day when it rained
and you _made_ me go, do you remember, Marion? Do you ever get to
wondering what would have been, if we had just stayed on here at home,
going to our parties and getting up festivals, and all that, and paying
no attention to the Chautauqua meetings?"
"I don't want to think about any such horrid retrospect as that!" Marion
said, with a shrug of her handsome shoulders, and a genuine shiver.
Flossy laughed.
"But you know it is only something to think of, to make us more
grateful. It can never _be_, _never_. By the way, I suppose it is early
to begin to make plans for the summer, at least for those who have no
occasion to talk about summer yet;"--this last with a conscious little
laugh--"But don't you mean to go to Chautauqua next summer? Mr. Roberts
and I are going; we would rather give up a journey to Europe than that.
Can't we all contrive to meet there together?"
"Yes," said Marion, "we--_I_ mean to go."
"Dr. Dennis is going," Flossy said, though why that had anything to do
with the matter, or why it occurred to her just then, Flossy did not
know. "He told Mr. Roberts that he meant to be there, and to take with
him as many of his people as he could. And Eurie told me last night that
his friend, Mr. Harrison, of the Fourth church was going. I don't know
how Eurie heard that, through Nellis, I suppose.
"Isn't Nellis splendid nowadays? I shouldn't wonder if quite a large
company went from here. I wonder if Dr. Dennis will take his daughter
Grace. I think she is just lovely, don't you?"
"Very," said Marion; and just here Flossy roused to the fact that she
was doing most of the talking, and that Marion's answers were often in
monosyllables.
"I dare say I am tiring you," she said, rising. "I forget that you have
to talk all day in that school-room, Marion. Are you sure you love to
teach well enough to keep at it, year after year?"
"No," said Marion, laughing. "I know I don't; I don't mean to do it; I
mean to get a situation as somebody's housekeeper."
"Do you understand housekeeping?" asked innocent little Flossy, with
wide open eyes.
"Oh, Marion! are you sure it will be even as pleasant as school
teaching?"
"I think so," Marion answered with grave face. "At least, I mean to try.
It depends on whose house you get into, you know."
Flossy's sober face cleared in an instant.
"So it does," she said. "Marion, I have a nice plan, but I shall not
tell you a bit about it to-night. Good-bye."
"Oh, the dear blessed little goosie!" Marion said, laughing immoderately
as the door closed after Flossy. "Now, I know as well as if she told me,
that she is going to beguile Mr. Roberts into offering me a situation in
their dove cote, when they set it up. Blessed little darling!" and here,
the laugh changed into a bright tear. "I know just what a sweet and
happy home she would make for me. If I had only that to look forward to,
if it had just opened as my escape from this boarding house, how very
thankful I should be! How glad the dear child will be to know that my
home is as nearly in view as her own."
As for Flossy, she went down the walk, saying:
"What a dismal room that is? It is too bad for our bright Marion to have
to live in it, I know my plan will work. How nice of her to have put it
in my head! my head must be for the purpose of carrying out nice things
that somebody else proposes. Oh dear! there are so many desolate homes
here, on earth!"
A cloud over the bright face for a minute, then it cleared as she said,
softly: "In my Father's house are many mansions; I go to prepare a place
for you."
After all, that was the place for brightness. This was only a way
station; never mind the discomforts, so that many were helped to the
right road that the home be reached at last, in peace.
She paused at the corner and looked towards Eurie's home, but shook her
head resolutely, she must not go there, it was too late; though she
longed to tell Eurie that Marion was going to Chautauqua, and ask her if
she did not think it possible for them all to meet there.
Then the inconsistent little creature sighed again, for she remembered
Eurie's weary face and the long struggle with sickness, and the long
struggle with ways and means to which she was looking forward. There was
much in the world that she would like to brighten.
Meantime, Eurie, in her home around the corner was arranging the pillows
with tender touch about her mother's head, and drawing the folds of the
crimson shawl carefully about her, as she said:
"Now, mother, you begin to look like yourself: it makes a wonderful
difference to get a touch of color about you."
A very tender smile preceded her answer.
"Dear child! I will be glad to get well enough so that you may have a
chance to get a touch of color about you. You are looking very pale and
tired."
"Oh me, mine is the brightest life you can imagine; there is plenty of
color down in my heart so long as I can think of our Nell leading the
young people's meeting, and father to lead at the mission to-morrow, it
will rest me. I have to keep 'counting my marcies.' To crown them all,
here you are sitting up at this time of night, with a cap and wrapper
on once more, instead of that unbecoming white gown; how pleased father
will be!"
"We have many mercies," the low, feeble voice of the invalid said; "not
the least among them being, our daughter Eurie; but I could wish that I
saw a way for you to have less care, and more rest than you will get
this summer. I must be willing to be very useless, your father says, and
that means hard work for you. When Ruth Erskine was in this afternoon,
looking so quiet, and at rest, nothing to weary her or hinder her from
doing what she chose, I just coveted some of the peace of her life for
you."
"There's no occasion, mother; I am not by any means willing to exchange
my life with hers; I like my own much the best. As for rest, don't you
worry; there'll be a way planned for what rest I need."
Yes, and there was being a way planned, even then; though mother and
daughter knew nothing of it. How queerly people go on, planning their
lives, as though they had the roads opening out into the future, all
under their own care!
It was at that moment that Ruth Erskine, the young lady who, according
to Mrs. Mitchell, had so quiet, and settled, and peaceful a life, that
she coveted it for her daughter, stood in the great hall that was
glowing with light and beauty, and caught her breath with an almost
convulsive sound, as she rested against a chair for support; her face
deathly pale, her eyes bright with a calm that she had forced upon
herself, in her solemn determination to try to do just the right thing,
say just the right words; her ear had caught the sound of a carriage
that had drawn up before the door, and the sound of a familiar voice;
she knew that she was now to meet--not only her father, but her mother,
and sister!
Little they knew about each other even yet, with all their intimacy,
those four Chautauqua girls!
But what mattered it, so long as they had given themselves over, body
and soul, into the keeping of their Father in heaven, who knew not only
the beginning, but the end?
THE END.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
This text uses both Bible-class and Bible class; chamber-maid and
chambermaid.
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Page 27, "grammer" changed to "grammar" (grammar class; and)
Page 39, new paragraph inserted. Text originally read: (who have."
"That's exactly like myself)
Page 58, "vailed" changed to "veiled" (sharp words veiled)
Page 91, "flappant" changed to "flippant" (his voice flippant)
Page 148, "softly" changed to "soft" (a soft little laugh)
Page 163, "b ought" changed to "brought" (that brought them most)
Page 186, "Hurlburt" changed to "Hurlbut" (Oh, Dr. Hurlbut!)
Page 202, "nowdays" changed to "nowadays" (no idols nowadays)
Page 203, "quered" changed to "queried" (duty?" queried Eurie)
Page 203, "adicted" changed to "addicted" (very much addicted)
Page 262, repeated word "a" removed. (while one with a a)
Page 285, "argumentive" changed to "argumentative" (my argumentative
powers)
Pages 318 and 333 had paragraphs that were not indented in the orginal.
These paragraphs began: (Yet was she not) (Mr. Wayne was unusually)
Page 322, "unstanding" changed to "understanding" (by tacit
understanding)
Page 322, "radient" changed to "radiant" (face just radiant)
Page 348, "vail" changed to "veil" (very flimsiest veil of)
Page 374, "solmnly" changed to "solemnly" (solemnly true. Ruth)
Page 396, "forsee" changed to "foresee" (she not foresee)
Page 400, "desoolate" changed to "desolate" (ever to be desolate)
Page 415, "parishoners" changed to "parishioners" (on his parishioners)
Page 423, "Smyth" changed to "Smythe" (brother-in-law, Mr. Smythe)
Page 445, "alwas" changed to "always" (for she was always)
Page 448, "alwas" changed to "always" (parties had always)