THE SECRET DISCLOSED.
"Wait; yet I do not tell you,
The hour you long for now
Will not come with its radiance vanished
And a shadow upon its brow."
A YEAR had passed since Austin Warner had become a student at the
University of Cambridge. The name and character he had earned at the
Hereford Grammar School had been nobly sustained by him, and the better
set of young men soon gathered around him and became associated with
him in many a good work.
He had been twice home for a short holiday, but during the chief part
of the long vacation, he had been engaged as tutor to a young nobleman.
The resolve, made years before, that by God's help he would try to
promote the interests of his kingdom, had been carried out; and there
was more than one young lad at the university who confessed that Austin
Warner, by his consistent character and gentle warnings, had saved them
from evil-doing.
The winter term had just commenced, when Priscilla entered her father's
study early one morning, anxious to hear the contents of a letter from
Austin which her father had just received.
She started as she entered at finding her father sitting with bowed
head and the half-opened letter in his hand.
"O father," she said, in an alarmed tone, "what is wrong? Is Austin
ill? Oh speak, do speak; tell me what it is!"
He laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder, and said, "No, my daughter,
there is nothing amiss with Austin. But—" and, strong man as he was, a
tear fell on the letter he held—"Priscilla, it is best you should know
it. I can no longer read his letter. God has stricken me sorely. I am
blind—I fear hopelessly blind."
"O father, poor father!" said the girl, as she threw her arms
caressingly round him, "Is it possible? Why, oh why have you concealed
this from me? Blind! But do not say hopelessly so. You have seen no
oculist yet; it may be only—"
But her father stopped her.
"Nay, Priscilla, I have seen an oculist; M'Ivor went with me to one and
heard his opinion. He told me I would soon be entirely blind, and now I
am almost so. It has come sooner than even he expected it would. It is
hard to bear. My last work on mathematics was almost finished; and now,
without the help of some one who fully understands the subject and can
carry out my ideas, it must be given up. Austin has not the time to do
so; and Lewis, poor Lewis, is perhaps no more. But God's will be done!"
At these words Priscilla rose. Her timidity, her fear of her father's
prejudices all vanished. With one short cry for help to her Father in
heaven, she spoke out boldly.
"Father," she said, "the time has come when you must listen to me.
The mathematical talent God gave to you I have inherited. I could not
stifle it, though, knowing your dislike to women pursuing such studies,
I have latterly tried to do so, but failed; and almost unaided, I
have continued the study, till now I know, father, I can help you in
any work of the kind you wish to carry on. It was my passion for this
study, my sinful, selfish ambition to prove to you and the world what
a woman could do, that led me soon after my mother's death to neglect
other and more important duties. Ay, and with deep sorrow I confess it,
it was my being so absorbed in the study of mathematics that made home
so cheerless for my brother, and brought such bitter sorrow on us all."
Dr. Warner started, but said not a word for some minutes; then pushing
a slate and pencil which lay near into Priscilla's hand, he said, "Let
me try you."
And for more than an hour, he tested her with the most abstruse
problems. They were all, to his utter amazement, carefully solved.
"And you have had no teacher, you say?" he queried.
"Only as regards the rudiments of the science, father," she answered.
"Austin taught me those."
"Austin! Then he knew?"
"Yes, he did; but at my request, he kept my secret."
"Was that right, Priscilla—a secret from me?"
"You forget, father," she replied, "how often you spoke with contempt
of women meddling with subjects out of their sphere. You remember how
angry you were when you found I had begun to study astronomy; and how,
when I asked you to try me as regarded my knowledge of that subject,
you refused to do so. O father, I could not after that tell you."
Once again the professor examined his daughter, and after hearing her
correct answers, he bent his head on his hands, and, as if speaking to
himself, said, "God be praised that one of my children has so fully
inherited my father's talent, though it is only a girl."
And drawing his daughter into his arms, he kissed her as he had never
done since her birth.
From that day Priscilla could no longer complain of her father's
disparagement of her talents. Many pleasant hours were spent in his
study, sometimes transcribing for him or reading aloud some book on
his favourite subject. And after studies were ended, Priscilla would
open the Book of Life and read aloud of Him "in whom are hid all the
treasures of wisdom and knowledge," and yet who hath declared by his
Spirit that "the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God," so that
"he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord."
And the old man as he listened became more and more as a little child,
and as such more fully entering the kingdom of heaven, led therein
by the hand of his daughter, who on her part was becoming day by day
liker the Master she loved and served, seeking not her own but her
neighbour's good.
Shortly after the scene we have written of, Prissy wrote the whole
account of it to her loved brother, ending her letter by saying: "And
now, dear Austin, I can see God's over-ruling loving hand in causing
so many stumbling-blocks to have arisen in the way of my prosecuting
my favourite study. It was indeed well that it should be so, for pride
and foolish ambition were the sources of my desire to excel in it. Now,
I trust, I can truly say the talent which he has given me I have laid
at, his feet and consecrated to his service. And in being able, in
however small a way, to help my father, and Archie, and Joe Smith in
their loved study, I am more than satisfied. And I realize every day
more and more what Harry Lascelles and you, dear Austin, have done long
ago—that the noblest work that man or woman can be engaged in on earth
is, by the prayerful performance of daily duties, to seek to extend the
kingdom of God."
Blindness was indeed a sore trial to Dr. Warner. His whole life had
been spent in study; books constituted his world, in the reading of
which he had spent so much of his time that he had neglected too
much his family and social ties. Now he was compelled to rest. True,
with Prissy's assistance, he continued the book which he was engaged
writing; but hours once devoted to study were now spent in comparative
idleness. In everything he turned to Priscilla for help, and was
becoming almost too dependent on her.
Sometimes Prissy's numerous duties almost overwhelmed her, for in
addition to her household cares she had to superintend almost entirely
the education of the two little ones.
One day when she was teaching Claude, wondering how she would get
through the day's work, a light step ran up the stair, and the door
opening displayed the bright face of Gabrielle M'Ivor.
[Illustration: GABRIELLE M'IVOR'S VISIT.]
"Why, Prissy ma chère," she said, "how tired you look! I don't believe
you have had one regular good walk for a month; and 'tis so charming
out of doors to-day. There are tiny icicles hanging from the eaves,
and the trees have a coating on them like silver. What do you call
it?—Filigree. And it is so lovely, they glitter so brightly in the
sunshine. See now, Prissy, I shall help le petit Claude a bit, whilst
you go and get ready for a walk. Nay, chère amie, do not shake thy
head; thou must go and get some fresh air, or I shall tell papa to
speak to Dr. Warner about it."
"Oh no, Gabrielle, do not do so, I pray," pleaded Prissy. "It would
only vex my father. But indeed I have not time to walk to-day. Claude
has been longer than usual over his lessons; and now it is the hour I
go to read to my father; and after that I must write to Austin in time
to catch the post. And then comes the children's dinner, and—"
But Gabrielle listened to no more.
"No, Prissy; you must get some fresh air and exercise. You are killing
yourself; and then when you have succeeded in so doing, what is to
become of votre père? Now there is a poor woman in the town who says
she 'be's greatly in want of a sight of Miss Warner,' for her spirits
be down, and there's none can comfort her like the miss from the
Grove. I be's 'too much of a French woman' for she, you know, so do
go, there's a chère petite, and I shall stay here and read to the good
professor for an hour."
Prissy's face brightened, both at the girl's cheery words, and at
the prospect of getting what, truth to tell, she had been longing to
obtain—a brisk walk in the winter sunshine, if only she could do so
without neglecting her home duties.
"Well, Gabrielle, la belle Gabrielle," she said, "you always do
contrive to get your own way somehow; and if you would read to papa
for one hour, I would like to take a short walk and go to the town to
see some of the people there. Now let us make an inroad on papa in his
study, and leave Claude to finish that sum alone."
Arm in arm the two girls went into the library, surprising the
professor as he sat absorbed in thought.
Gabrielle's silvery voice broke the silence. "Dr. Warner," she said,
"will you let me take Prissy's place for a while to-day? Vous voyez the
fairies have been at work all night covering the trees with silver,
and it is so lovely out of doors, and I wish Prissy to see it ere it
vanishes; so I have come to read to you—not on mathematical subjects,
please. But I am ready for anything else you like; only say I may
remain."
Dr. Warner smiled. "Surely, if you will," he said. "I know Priscilla
does not go out enough, especially since I have had this bad cold, and
she has not had me to take charge of out of doors.—So, my daughter,
la belle Francaise shall read to me, and we'll leave the mathematical
papers till night."
Prissy pressed a kiss on her father's brow, saying cheerfully, "As you
like it, papa; only don't let Gabrielle usurp my place!"
"No fears of that," said her friend. "But, Prissy, suppose you take
little Ruth with you, and leave her to play for an hour in our cottage
with Jeanie. And you can tell ma chère mère that I am here, and she
need not expect me back for a long while."
"Very well," said Prissy, "I'll do so. Ruth will be charmed to go. And
see you take good care of papa."
And so saying, Prissy Warner, giving her friend a bright smile, ran off
to get herself and Ruth ready for a walk in the bright winter sunshine.