THE REWARD OF DILIGENCE.
"One by one thy duties wait thee,
Let thy whole strength go to each;
Let no future dreams elate thee,
Learn thou first what these can teach."
A. A. PROCTER.
SPRING passed and summer came, giving Lilla more time than ever for her
books.
Every morning she was up with the lark. Whilst Margie bustled about
the housework, she was busy in her flower-garden. Then, as the sun
grew hot, she took her books into the little arbour and studied with
unflagging assiduity, until Margie came to call her to breakfast.
All through the day she continued learning, translating, drawing and
practising, only allowing herself an occasional few minutes' respite.
Then, in the cool of the evening, she would go for a stroll in the lane
with her grandmother, or water the flowers with Margie until the stars
came out, when she would stand gazing up at the sky, telling her their
names, or trying to explain the solar system, until, when Mrs. Eden
called them in, they were so dazed that they could hardly see their way.
Thus a firm friendship sprung up between them, and they came to tell
each other their thoughts and to exchange confidences about their hopes
and aspirations. And in this way, Lilla at last discovered that the
young servant girl, like herself, had felt dissatisfied with living for
nothing but eating and drinking, and earning money. And that she, too,
longed to be something greater and worthier.
"But it's of no use," Margie said, sadly, as they turned to go in,
after one of these talks. "And it won't do to stand still thinking
about it, because I've got my living to earn. I suppose I must just go
on sweeping and scrubbing, and perhaps it'll all come right some day."
"It would, if there were really such things as fairies," replied Lilla,
"but they only exist in children's stories."
Yet there had been One all through the days of that spring and summer
watching their every action and listening to their every thought,
guiding and keeping them, and waiting until their ears were ready to
listen to that gentle voice which said to John and Peter of old—"Follow
Me."
With the end of August the days began to grow perceptibly shorter,
and as September brought to a close the golden harvest time, Lilla's
routine had gradually to change; afternoon walks were resumed, and
lessons after tea took the place of gardening and star-gazing. But a
reward for the past six months' diligence was awaiting her.
One day Mrs. Eden informed her that she had engaged a young lady to
come every morning and superintend her studies.
"I had intended you to have masters for French and music," she said,
"but that would leave out drawing for the present, besides which, I
heard you express a wish to learn German, so I thought I could not do
better than come to terms with this young lady, who teaches all these
branches, and appears highly accomplished."
Lilla was very pleased, though somewhat excited, at the prospect of
having to take lessons of a perfect stranger. The name of "governess"
frequently suggests to young girls, the idea of a prim, stiff-backed
sort of person, very clever, and extremely severe. Probably, Lilla
shared the common notion. Therefore, although in her anxiety to get on
she determined to brave all these terrors, she was very much relieved
to find Miss St. Ives the exact opposite of all that she had pictured.
She had the gentlest face and manners and such a beautiful way of
explaining things that it was impossible not to understand. In short,
from the very first, Lilla felt compelled to love her. There was a
reason for this.
Miss St. Ives had been brought up in the school of trouble, which
usually does one of two things for its pupils: either it puts hard
lines on their faces and renders them fretful and discontented, because
the world is not the fairyland of pleasure they once imagined it, or
it makes them gentle and patient, always ready to help those who need
encouragement. This was the case with Miss St. Ives, for she was a true
follower of Christ. So when her father died, leaving them with a very
slender income to depend upon, she had determined to forget how sad her
own heart was in striving to be the stay and sunshine of her home. She
had bravely undertaken the education of her two little sisters, and set
herself to learn how to make her own dresses.
And when at last this opportunity of earning a little money had
presented itself, she had thankfully accepted it in addition to her
other work, in order that her mother—whose health had been much
shattered by nursing and night watches—might have extra ease and
comfort. And she was reaping a rich reward in the building up of a
character which everybody loved and trusted.
Lilla soon found herself talking to her as freely as if she had known
her for years, and even Margie would watch for the chance of getting
to the door first for the sake of a smile and "thank you" when she
admitted her. Mrs. Eden, herself, never allowed a morning to pass
without coming to exchange a few words with her, and in doing so the
old lady was not merely fulfilling the demands of common courtesy—she
was attracted to the young governess by the irresistible charm of her
Christ-like spirit.
Mrs. Eden was glad to have secured for Lilla a teacher whose influence
over her was likely to be so good, especially as she, herself, was
growing less and less fit to be her companion. The old lady was obliged
to give up her long rambles now, so Lilla frequently walked home with
Miss St. Ives after lessons, or accompanied her and her sisters in
their strolls.
It was well for Lilla that she did not understand the many signs of
failing health which were throwing their shadows over her grandmother.
It would have saddened her young heart too much had she realised how
the beloved companion and protector of her early days was fading away.
The early morning no longer found the old lady briskly stirring, and
she had even delegated to Lilla the duty of making the coffee. Her step
had grown heavier of late, too, and she often heaved a weary sigh over
her work. And, as the autumn evenings closed in, she loved to sit in
the twilight, gazing into the fire, and talking of old times.
This was a sore trial for Lilla. There were tasks waiting to be
learned, and she longed to be at them. Her ambition was to lose no
moment of her time, and to waste half-an-hour listening to tales which
she had known from time immemorial was a severe test of patience. But
she never once allowed her grandmother to feel that she was weary of
her forced idleness.
[Illustration: MISS ST. IVES.]
[Illustration]