her hands. Its study, indeed, took the place of her other self-chosen
labours, and she read it with an attention and interest it had never
awakened before. That she did not study it in vain, seemed evident in
her softened, gentler manner, in the more peaceful expression of her
countenance, and in the quiet thoughtfulness which she began to show
for others. She would sometimes ask Lucy what she thought about a
passage of Scripture in which she was interested, and the few words
she said about it would give her cousin a clue to the working of her
mind. But her habitual reserve had not yet worn off, and Lucy did not
venture to trespass upon it.
She expressed a desire to accompany Lucy in some of her visits to the
poor Italian, who was perceptibly sinking fast with the advancing
spring. He had, however, grown much in trust in his Saviour, and in
spiritual knowledge, especially since Lucy had procured for him an
Italian Bible, which he could read with much more ease and profit than
an English one. He seemed now to have a deep sense of the evil of his
past careless life, when even the external forms of religion had been
given up, and he had been, like the prodigal, wandering in a far
country.
"And how good is the Father in heaven, that He has a welcome home and
a fatted calf for His wanderer!" he would say earnestly, the tears
rising to the dark lustrous eyes, that sparkled so brightly in the
pale, sunken face.
Sophy listened, half wonderingly, half wistfully, to the few and
broken, but earnest words in which he told of the pardon and peace he
had found in "Looking unto Jesus." "I see the blessed words there all
the day," he said, pointing to the wall, "and they make me glad."
"Lucy, you have a card like that," said Sophy, as they left the house.
"I wish you would give it to me to keep in my room, to remind me of
that poor man's words."
Lucy gladly complied with the request, though she missed her card a
good deal, and hoped that its motto might be of use to its new owner.
Sophy, however, painted the motto in much more elaborate and beautiful
workmanship, had it framed and glazed, and hung it up in her cousin's
room one day while she was out, with a little slip of paper attached,
bearing the inscription, "With Sophy's love and hearty thanks."
One lovely day in May, when all nature seemed rejoicing in the
gladness of the approaching summer, Lucy went as usual to visit
Antonio, carrying some of the delicacies which Mrs. Brooke still
continued to send him, chiefly for Amy's sake. How often might the
rich greatly alleviate the sufferings of sickness in poverty, by
timely gifts of luxuries, which at such a time are almost necessaries,
yet which the poor cannot buy!
Lucy found the patient unable now to rise, and struggling with the
suffocating sensation of oppressed breathing. He could scarcely speak,
but he listened with pleasure to the few words she read to him; and as
she left him, he pressed her hand convulsively, saying in a low,
expressive tone, "Good-bye."
Lucy felt she should not see him again in life, and was not surprised
when Nelly came next day, crying bitterly, to tell her that her
adopted father's weary pilgrimage was ended.
The poor girl remained in the now desolate home only until the simple
funeral was over, and then entered Mrs. Brooke's family, where her
warm, grateful heart found comfort in doing everything she could for
Miss Lucy, whose presence made her new place seem again a home.
XVII.
_Home Again._
"And this was once my home;
The leaves, light rustling, o'er me whisper clear,
The sun but shines on thee where thou dost roam,
It smiled upon thee here!"
Stella had been losing instead of gaining strength since the warm
weather came on, and her parents were now really alarmed about her,
and were considering what would be the best and most bracing place to
send her to during the heat of the summer. But Stella, with an
invalid's capricious fancy, had formed a plan of her own, and she
insisted, with all her old wilfulness, on its being carried out. It
was, that Lucy and she should go together to Ashleigh, to stay at Mill
Bank Farm, if Mrs. Ford would consent to receive them as boarders. Her
former visit was connected in her mind with pure, healthful, and happy
associations, and she thought that the fresh country air, which she so
well remembered, and the delicious milk from Mrs. Ford's sleek cows,
would do her more good than anything else. It need not be said that
the project was a delightful one for Lucy; and as Ashleigh was
certainly a healthy place, it was decided that they should go thither
under the escort of Fred, who also wished to pay a short visit to his
old home. Bessie wrote that her mother would be delighted to receive
them; and Stella, with more of her old light-heartedness than she had
shown for a long time, hurried the preparations for her journey.
Nelly was to remain in the house with a kind, trustworthy woman during
the absence of the rest of the family at the seaside. Although she was
sorry to lose her dear Miss Lucy, she was much interested in the
circumstance that she was going to Ashleigh, and sent many grateful
messages to Mrs. Ford and Bessie. To the latter she sent a present of
a little silk necktie, bought, with great satisfaction, out of her
first wages.
Any one who has ever revisited a dearly loved home can easily imagine
Lucy's delight, when from the deck of the steamboat her straining eyes
caught the first glimpse of the white houses of Ashleigh and the grey
church on the hill; can imagine her delight at recognising the
well-known faces, and the familiar objects which, after her long
absence, seemed so strangely natural! But the happiness of being once
more among scenes so associated with early and happy recollections was
not untinged with sadness; for the vividness with which the old life
was recalled made the changes seem as vivid also, and stirred up in
all its acuteness the sense of loss, which had of late been partially
deadened by the exciting changes of her present life. Every step
called up her father's image with intense force in scenes so
interwoven with her memories of him. It was strange to see the house
which had been her home from infancy tenanted by strangers, and to
miss all the familiar faces of the home circle, whom she had almost
expected to find there still. It gave her a dreary sense of
loneliness, even in the midst of the many kind friends who were eager
to welcome back, both for her father's sake and her own, the daughter
of their beloved pastor.
Stella's highest spirits seemed to return when she found herself
driving rapidly along the road to the farm in the conveyance which
Bessie and her eldest brother--whom Lucy would scarcely have
recognised--had brought to meet them. Bessie was not much changed. Her
good-humoured face had more sweetness and earnestness of expression
than it had once worn, and her manner at home had the considerate,
half-maternal air of an eldest daughter. Mrs. Ford, too, was less
bustling, with a quiet repose about her hospitable kindliness that
gave a feeling of rest and comfort, and was the result of being less
"cumbered about much serving," and more disposed to let her heart
dwell on the "better part," on which she now set a truer value. A more
perceptible regard for it, indeed, pervaded, the whole family, and
Bessie and her brother were, both of them, Sunday-school teachers now.
Mrs. Ford and Bessie were much shocked at the change in Stella, whose
blooming appearance they well remembered. Lucy, had become so
accustomed to her cousin's altered looks, that she thought her looking
rather better than usual, under the influence of the change and
excitement. But Mrs. Ford shook her head mournfully over her in
private. "She looks to me in a decline," she said to her husband.
"I'm afraid she hasn't many years before her in this world!"
But another change besides the external one had come over her, so
gradually that Lucy had not observed it till now, when the place
brought back so vividly the recollection of the gay, flippant Stella
of old. She had certainly grown more thoughtful, more quiet, even more
serious; and Lucy observed that her former levity had quite departed,
and that a flippant remark never now fell from her lips. Her old
wilfulness of manner continued to characterize her, but it was owing
chiefly to the caprice of disease. She was shy of joining in religious
conversation, but seemed to listen with great interest whenever Lucy
and Bessie spoke to each other of things connected with the "life
hidden with Christ in God." At such times she would look as if she
were trying to gain a clue to a mystery which puzzled, and yet
intensely interested her.
It was with mingled pleasure and sadness that Lucy once more took her
seat in her father's church, and listened to the voice of another from
his old pulpit. His successor, Mr. Edwards, though a man of a
different stamp, resembled him a good deal in the earnestness of his
spirit and the simplicity of his gospel preaching. The message was the
same, though the mode of delivering it was slightly different. He
received with kindness and courtesy the daughter of his predecessor,
and invited her during her stay to take a share in the teaching of the
Sunday school,--an invitation which she willingly accepted, and had
the pleasure of finding in her new class a few of her old scholars.
As Stella had a fancy for seeing the Sunday school, Lucy accepted the
invitation, given to them both by Mr. Edwards, to spend with his
family the interval between the morning and evening service. Stella's
zeal for seeing the Sunday school, however, died out with the first
Sunday; and after that she always remained with Mrs. Edwards, who,
being very delicate, and having a young infant, had been obliged to
resign her own class, the one now taken by Lucy. Mrs. Edwards was a
sweet, gentle woman, overflowing with Christian love and kindness; and
as Stella at once took a great fancy to her, she exercised a very
beneficial influence over one who was much more easily swayed by
kindness than by any other power.
The celebration of the Lord's Supper was approaching, and as Bessie
was looking forward to participating for the first time in the holy
ordinance, Lucy gladly embraced the opportunity of making a formal
confession of her faith in Christ, and claiming the blessing attached
to the ordinance by Him who instituted it. It was pleasant, too, to do
so in the very place in which He had first, by the cords of love,
drawn her heart to Himself. Solemn as she knew the step to be, she had
lived too long on the principle of "looking unto Jesus" not to feel
that she had only to look to Him still to give her the fitting
preparation of heart for receiving the tokens of His broken body and
shed blood; and in this happy confidence she came forward to obey His
dying command.
Stella had seemed much interested about the approaching communion, and
had asked a good many questions respecting it, and as to the nature of
the qualification for worthily partaking in it. At last, much to
Lucy's surprise, she asked her, with a timidity altogether new to
her, whether she thought _she_ might come forward also.
It was with difficulty that Lucy could restrain the expression of her
surprise at the unexpected question, but she did repress it, and
replied:
"It all depends on whether you have made up your mind to take Jesus
for your Lord and Saviour, and to follow Him, dear Stella!"
"I should like to, if I knew how," she said. "I have been speaking to
Mrs. Edwards about it, and she thinks I might come. I know I'm not
what I ought to be, and that I've been very careless and wicked; but
Mrs. Edwards says if I'm really in earnest, and I think I am, I may
come to the communion, and that I shall be made fit, if I ask to be."
Lucy had not lost her faith in the Hearer and Answerer of prayer, but
she had been so long accustomed to regard Stella as one who "cared for
none of these things," that she could scarcely believe in the reality
of so sudden a change. But it was not so very sudden, and Lucy's own
earnestness and simple faith had been one means of bringing it about.
Her daily intercourse with her cousin had, in spite of herself,
impressed Stella gradually with a conviction of the importance of what
she felt to be all-important. And Stella's illness and subsequent
weakness, with perhaps a sense of her precarious tenure of life, had
combined to make her realize its importance to herself personally,
more than she had ever done before. Amy's happy death had made her
feel how blessed a thing was that trust in Jesus which could remove
all fear of the mysterious change, so awful to those who have their
hope only in the visible world. Indeed, she told Lucy that one of her
chief reasons for wishing to come to Ashleigh was the vague feeling,
derived from her recollections of her former visit, that it would be
easier for her to be a Christian in a place so closely associated with
her first impressions of living Christianity. And He who never turns
away from any who seek Him, had answered her expectations, and sent
her a true helper in Mrs. Edwards, whose simple words seemed to come
to her with peculiar power; for, from some hidden sympathy of feeling,
one person often seems more specially adapted to help us on than
another, and Mrs. Edwards had been a special helper to Stella.
Lucy, when she found her cousin so much in earnest, did not dare to
advise her on her own responsibility. Stella felt rather afraid of a
conversation with Mr. Edwards, but her cousin told her that he was the
best person to give her counsel in the matter. Her fear of him soon
vanished when the conversation was really entered upon, and she found
that she could speak to him much more freely than she had previously
thought. He talked with her long and kindly, and finding that she had
really a deep sense of sin, and that she desired to come to Christ in
humble penitence to have her sins forgiven and her darkness
enlightened, he felt that he had no right to discourage her from the
ordinance which is specially designed to enlighten and strengthen. At
the same time, he took care to explain to her most fully the nature of
the solemn vows in which she would take upon herself the
responsibilities and obligations of a follower of Christ.
It was with a quiet, serious humility, very different from the former
mien of the once careless Stella, that she, with Lucy and Bessie,
reverently approached the Lord's table, where He graciously meets His
people, and gives the blessings suited to their special needs. As they
left the church at the close of the service, and Lucy glanced at her
cousin, whose delicacy was made more perceptible by the deep black of
her dress, she thought that, notwithstanding the loss of bloom and
brightness, the expression of serene happiness that now rested on her
face gave it a nobler beauty than she had ever seen it wear before.
Before the stay of the cousins at Ashleigh came to an end, Lucy and
Bessie had the great pleasure of meeting once more their old teacher,
Mrs. Harris, who had come to pay a short visit to her former home.
What a pleasant meeting it was, and with what grateful gladness Mrs.
Harris found out how well her old scholars had followed out their
watchword, may easily be imagined; as well as the interest with which
the story of poor Nelly's changeful life and steady faith in the
Saviour, of whom Miss Preston had first told her, was narrated and
heard.
Lucy did not forget to visit Nelly's stepmother, whose circumstances
remained much the same as in former times. She did not seem much
gratified by Lucy's praises of Nelly's good conduct. She had always
predicted that Nelly would "come to no good," and she did not like to
have her opinions in such matters proved fallacious. Lucy, however,
rather enjoyed dilating upon Nelly's industry and usefulness, that
Mrs. Connor might feel the mistake she had made, even in a worldly
point of view, by her heartless conduct.
When the heat of the summer was subsiding into the coolness of
September, Lucy and Stella prepared to return home,--not, however,
without having revisited all the spots which had been the scenes of
former excursions, and, in particular, the scene of the "strawberry
picnic," where every little event of the happy summer afternoon, now
so long past, was eagerly recalled.
"And do you remember, Lucy," asked Stella, "how hateful I was about
poor Nelly, when we discovered her here? Oh, how wicked and heartless
I used to be in those days! And I don't believe I should ever have
been any better if you hadn't come to live with us!"
Her physical health had been very much benefited by her sojourn in the
country, under the kind, motherly care of Mrs. Ford, who had fed her
with cream and new milk till she declared she had grown quite fat.
That, however, was only a relative expression. She was still very far
from being the plump, blooming Stella of former times.
But the chief benefit she had gained was not to be discerned by the
outward eye. It lay deep in her heart--the "pearl of great price,"
which her wandering spirit had at last sought and found.
XVIII.
_A Farewell Chapter._
"Come near and bless us when we wake.
Ere through the world our way we take,
Till in the ocean of Thy love
We lose ourselves in heaven above."
Though Mr. and Mrs. Brooke marked with much delight the improved
appearance of their darling Stella, her medical attendant was far from
considering the improvement a radical one, and strongly advised that
she should be removed to a warmer climate for the winter. On her
account, therefore, as well as on that of Sophy, who very much needed
change of scene, it was decided that the family should spend the
winter months in the south. Stella was anxious that her cousin should
accompany them; but just at this time Lucy received a summons--by no
means unwelcome--in another direction, in a letter from Mrs. Steele.
Her aunt had been feeling her strength fail very much during the past
year, and expressed a very strong desire that her niece should come
to her again, for a time at least. Lucy owed her aunt almost a
daughter's affection; and as she had not seen her brother Harry for
nearly two years, and as her lessons at school must necessarily be
discontinued, it seemed the best arrangement that she should accede to
Mrs. Steele's request, and go to the West under the escort which had
been proposed for her,--that of a friend of Alick who had come
eastward for his wife, and was soon to return to his prairie home.
There was some doubt as to what should be done with Nelly during the
long absence of all her friends, but an unexpected event which
happened previous to Lucy's departure settled that question most
satisfactorily. A young market-gardener, who had lately started in
business for himself, came to Mr. Brooke's to be paid for vegetables,
furnished during the summer. Lucy was sent down to pay him, and was
surprised to find Nelly, who had happened to pass through the hall
where he was waiting, staring at him in an unaccountable manner, with
an excited look in her dark eyes.
"Miss Lucy," she said in a trembling undertone, seizing Lucy's dress
in her eagerness, "won't you please ask him his name?"
Lucy, considerably bewildered, did as she desired, and was startled by
the answer. "Richard Connor," and equally so by the joyful exclamation
with which Nelly rushed forward: "Oh, it's my own brother Dick!"
It turned out to be really Nelly's long-lost brother. He had followed
the rest of his family out to America by the next vessel in which he
could procure a passage, but had never been able to discover any
trace of them. Getting work for a time as he best could, he had at
last entered the service of a market-gardener, where he had done so
well as to be able in time to begin business on his own account. He
could not have recognised his little sister Nelly in the tall,
good-looking girl before him; but time had not changed him so
materially as to prevent Nelly's loving heart from recognising her
only relative, and the moment her eye fell upon him, a thrill of
almost certain recognition chained her to the spot.
It is unnecessary to dwell upon the delight of both brother and sister
at their unexpected reunion, and the torrent of inquiries and replies
that followed. Dick had for so long a time given up all hope of
finding his kindred, that the joy of recovering Nelly overpowered his
sorrow at finding that she was the only one who survived to him; and
as the young gardener had been intending to live in a small cottage of
his own, he was only too glad to claim Nelly as his housekeeper. And
before Lucy went away, she had the pleasure of seeing Nelly
comfortably installed in a home which she could consider as really her
own.
It was no small trial to Lucy, when the time came, to say a long
farewell to her aunt and cousins, especially to Sophy, between whom
and herself there was now a strong bond of attachment; and to Stella,
as to whom she felt a strong foreboding that she should never see her
again. Her only comfort was that she could leave the matter in the
hands of Him who knew best, and that Stella could safely be trusted to
that protecting love which will never leave nor forsake any who humbly
seek its true blessing.
With Mary Eastwood, too, it was another hard parting. She spent a day
or two at Oakvale before her departure, and both long looked back to
that short visit as to a time tinged indeed with sadness, but charged
with many sweet and blessed memories.
At last the preparations for the long journey were all made, the
packing completed, even to the stowing away of the little gifts from
each, and of the large packet of bonbons and cream-candy which Edwin
brought in at the last moment for his cousin's regalement during her
long journey. Then the cab was at the door before half had been said
that they wanted to say, and the long-dreaded good-bye was crowded
into such a brief space of time, that when Lucy found herself on the
way to the station, she could scarcely believe that the formidable
separation was really over, and that she had finally left her home of
nearly two years. She well remembered the winter afternoon of her
arrival, and thought with gratitude how many blessings had met her
there, and with what different feelings she left it from those with
which she arrived there.
The sadness of her departure soon wore off amid the pleasant
excitement of the long and interesting journey, made doubly pleasant
by the lively and genial companionship of her new friends, who won her
heart at once by their warm praises of Alick and Harry; and she began
already to look forward to the happiness of their complete reunion as
a family,--for Fred was to follow her to the West at the close of his
theological studies, in the ensuing spring.
When at last the somewhat fatiguing but very pleasant journey was at
an end, Lucy found Mrs. Steele ready to receive her with a warm
maternal welcome, and Harry wild with delight, as much grown and
improved as they all declared she was. Alick had grown considerably
older and graver-looking under the responsibilities of life and his
profession, though he still retained much of his old flow of spirits;
and Lucy had the very great pleasure of finding that he had become an
earnest Christian man, using his profession to the utmost of his power
as a means not only of doing temporal good, but of advancing his
Master's cause.
Lucy soon saw that her household aid was so much needed by her aunt,
whose health had become very feeble, that she relinquished the plan
she had formed of endeavouring to get employment in teaching during
the winter; and between her housekeeping avocations and the claims of
Alick's poor patients, whom she often visited on errands of charity,
and the carrying on of her own studies, which she was anxious to
continue, the winter flew past with incredible rapidity.