HOME WORK.
"The trivial round, the common task,
Will furnish all we ought to ask—
Room to deny ourselves, a road
To bring us daily nearer God."
THREE years had passed since Lewis Warner had left the Grove, and as
yet, no news had been received of him.
When one morning in autumn, Austin, now a fine-looking young man of
eighteen years, stood in his sister's boudoir.
"Prissy," he said, "I want to know if you have forgotten your
mathematics and entirely given up your study of astronomy?"
His sister looked up with a smile. "Forgotten them?" she said.
"Certainly not. I always intended to tell you, Austin, that shortly
after Lewis left us, I had a long talk with Mr. M'Ivor on the subject
of whether, knowing my father's prejudices on the matter, I should
relinquish altogether my study of those subjects. He asked time to
consider ere he would advise me. You know he is a 'canny Scot.' Well,
next day he came and said he had thought over it, and he believed
it was not my duty to give up studies for which I had a God-given
talent (I should tell you he had examined me in both mathematics and
astronomy), and for which he believed I would one day find a use. So,
Austin, ever since then, with occasional help from André M'Ivor, I
have gone on steadily with my studies, rising an hour earlier in the
morning to find time for them, so that I might never again be tempted
to neglect other duties."
"I have tried, Austin, to make home different for you and the younger
boys, and so help on the kingdom of God. Would that I had done it
always; then perhaps Lewis would never have left his home, and my
father would not have been the heart-broken man he now is."
Austin put his arm kindly round his sister's shoulder. "Indeed,
Prissy," he said; "you have succeeded in making our home life very
different from what it was. Archie and Claude will have no excuse to
spend their evenings in bad companionship. Your playing and singing,
our various readings and pleasant games, render our evenings at home,
as the M'Ivor boys say, 'regular jolly ones;' and I own I am glad you
have resumed your studies, for the fault lay not in your devoting time
to mental improvement, but in your doing so in a wrong way and from a
wrong motive."
"But my reason for asking specially about it is this: you know that
to-morrow I set off for Cambridge, and if you can spare an hour three
times a week, I am going to ask you to carry on a work I have been
doing for a week past. You know Joe Anthony, the carpenter's son, who
is confined to his couch? Well, the lad has a great love for study, and
at his urgent request, I have been teaching him mathematics; and if
you, dear Prissy, would continue to do so, he would be so thankful."
Prissy's eyes glistened as she replied: "Oh, I will do so gladly. I can
now easily give the needed time; and I am so thankful that an opening
has been given to me to use my talent to help a fellow-creature, and
not merely to gratify my own ambition."
"That's all right then, Pris," said her brother. "I'll tell Joe to-day,
and show you afterwards how far he has advanced in the study of
mathematics. But there is my father calling for me. I must be off now;
and I want to run down to the M'Ivors to say good-bye." And so saying,
he ran off.
Priscilla then went to her book-case, and with a heart full of joy,
took down some of her loved books, and began to glance over the earlier
lessons in Euclid. She had just seated herself for a quiet hour of
study, when some one knocked at the door, and Archie and Claude bounded
in.
"O Prissy, this is jolly! Dr. Sparling has given us a holiday, at the
request of Major Wright, who has just returned from India, and who was
head-scholar at the school before he went away. Isn't it first-rate,
Prissy? And it being Austin's last day at home too makes it all the
better. We want to go some good expedition; and the M'Ivors are to
join us. And you'll come also, won't you? And, Prissy, do get us some
sandwiches and biscuits, for we will be away nearly the whole day.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Three cheers for Major Wright!"
Adieu now to Prissy's quiet hour. But if she was disappointed, no
trace of so being was allowed to be seen by the boys; but with a
good-humoured, "Well, well, if holidays are the fashion, I'll take
one too," she put back her book on the shelf, and set off to see to
the filling of a basket with eatables for the hungry boys—returning,
ere she went downstairs, into the nursery for one minute, to comfort
herself with a kiss of little four-year-old Ruth, the pet and plaything
of the whole household.
The next morning, a large party of friends met at the railway station
to bid adieu to Austin Warner, as he set off for his first term at
Cambridge University. He went followed by the good wishes of all who
knew him. He left Hereford as the head-pupil of its principal school.
His abilities, said Dr. Sparling, were of a high kind, specially as
regarded mathematics. Dr. Warner, truth to say, had been greatly
surprised at the development of Austin's talents, for, in his undue
love to Lewis, he had failed formerly in doing him justice; and it
rejoiced Prissy's heart to see that now, in spite of himself, he was
beginning to mark with interest and take pride in his son's scholarly
attainments.
Father and daughter walked slowly home together, Dr. Warner's thoughts
turning to the son so dear to his heart, of whom he had heard nothing
for three long years. Where was he now, and what sort of life was he
leading?
He startled Prissy by the sudden question, "Priscilla, have you
observed how like Archie gets to poor Lewis? There are times when the
likeness almost pains me. And—" he paused a moment—"he resembles him in
character likewise. He is easily led by companions; Dr. Sparling told
me so to-day. MY daughter, we must see to it that he is not compelled
by the dulness of his home to seek bad society."
Prissy coloured. It was the first allusion her father had made for
years to the part she had had in helping Lewis in his downward course,
the first time he had mentioned that son's name for long months.
"O father," she said, "I do not think you need fear for Archie in that
way. He dearly loves his home, and our quiet, happy evenings. But I do
fear he will miss Austin's company, and the assistance he has given him
in his studies."
"Ah, there it is again!" said the professor. "My time is so occupied
just now, what with writing and correcting proofs of my new book,
that I fear I shall not be able to give Archie the help he requires,
specially in his mathematical studies. Besides, my eyesight is not so
good as it used to be. Surely my spectacles are not strong enough.
There are times when I can hardly see to read at all."
Prissy looked up alarmed. "Why," she said, "did you never tell me that
before? Ought you not to consult an oculist about it? Perhaps you
should rest your eyes a while. Father, can I not help you? Surely, at
least, I can assist Archie. Say I may; do say so. Let me at least read
to you."
Her father patted the girl kindly, saying. "Nay, nay, Priscilla; I did
not mean to alarm you. I daresay my eyes are just wearied; and I am
getting old, you know. And, my daughter, as to your reading to me, I
fear treatises on mathematics and astronomy would soon weary you. They
are rather uninteresting subjects to those who comprehend them not."
Prissy bit her lips. This was not the time, she felt, to tell her
father how much she understood of both sciences. It was a temptation
to do so, but the discipline of the past years had worked its end. She
could now in patience possess her soul. The kingdom of God, the spirit
of meekness, long-suffering, and love, was growing in her heart. The
great lesson, which all God's children have sooner or later to learn,
"to be still and wait," was being learned by her.
So now she only said, "Well, father, when you think I can help you, do
ask me; and, in the meantime, promise me not to overtask your eyesight."
"Poor Priscilla!" said her father. "I believe you would help me if you
could; and in one way you do, my daughter—you do. Now that Miss Vernon
has left us, I could have little comfort in studying, if I did not
know that you were keeping all straight in the house. No want of love
towards you now, Priscilla, on the part of the little ones."
He said this with a smile, as Claude and Ruth came bounding up to their
sister.
Prissy's heart was too full for speech; any words of commendation from
her father were precious to her.
They walked home almost in silence after that.
Then nurse having come to take the children off for a walk, and Dr.
Warner having gone indoors, Priscilla set off to a neighbouring village
to visit some poor people, amongst whom, by her kind words and actions,
she was helping on the kingdom of God. In more than one family she had
acted as a peacemaker; and there were little children there into whose
young hearts she had dropped a seed of heavenly love, which already had
proved to be the beginning of that kingdom of God which is within us.
Into one house she entered—a small, poor cottage, but spotlessly clean.
A widow woman, with a baby in her arms, stooped over a bed where lay
a little boy of some five years. She raised her head as the step drew
nearer, and a look of pleasure and relief shone in her eyes as she
recognized the visitor.
"O Miss Warner," she exclaimed, "I be so glad to see ye! Charlie's
worse, the doctor says. He's as bad as can be. And oh, but, miss, my
heart's broke! My pretty lamb! I can't part from him, the darling!"
"I am so sorry, Mrs. Watts," said Prissy. "Has Charlie been long ill?
Why did you not tell me sooner?"
"Well, you see, miss, I'd none to send. And when he was first took ill,
he called for you—he did. But now I scarce think he'll know you."
Priscilla bent over the dying child and spoke some words to him; but
the little fellow's face was turned away, the bright eyes closed in
unconsciousness. It was the mother, not the child, she had to comfort
that day.
She knew, although their eyes were too dim to see them, angels were
round the little sufferer, helping him and ministering to him; and,
better than all, the loving arms of Jesus were extended to receive the
soul of the little one to himself.
Ere the child's spirit passed to glory, whilst he lay pillowed in his
mother's arms (for Prissy had taken the baby from her), he opened his
eyes, and with a sweet smile said, "Mother—lady (the name by which he
always addressed Prissy)—Jesus."
Then, folding his little hands in prayer, he said, "Our Father which
art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come." He could add no
more.
The mother's eyes met those of Priscilla, and in a moment, both knew
the little one was already in that kingdom to which Jesus hath said the
children who have come to him belong.
It was Priscilla who finished the next clause of the prayer—"Thy will
be done."
"Little Charlie is with Jesus now," she whispered.
And the mother dried her eyes as she said, "And it was your hand led
him to Him, miss—your voice that taught him to sing the hymns he is
singing to-day in the kingdom of God."
If that were indeed so, had not Priscilla Warner done a work far
exceeding that which would have gained her any earthly fame—a work
which, as Harry Lascelles had said, angels might envy her the doing of?