NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY.
"Well hath she learned to sympathize with every hope and fear;
Well hath she learned the sorrowing heart to brighten and to cheer."
CHRISTMAS had come at last! A good old-fashioned one it proved. Snow
had fallen heavily for some days before, and now it lay inches deep on
hill and dale. A sharp frost had set in, and the crystal-like icicles
hung from the eaves of the house and branches of the leafless trees.
Beautifully they glistened under the light of the moonbeams as they
touched them with their silver light, and glistened on the white canopy
of snow that lay thickly on the garden and grounds surrounding the
Grove.
Austin and Prissy Warner stood for a few minutes alone at a window
gazing at the fair scene.
"How lovely it is to-night!" said Prissy. "And the children are so
happy at the prospect of the Christmas tree. But oh, Austin, if our
father could only see it; and if Lewis were with us, or if we knew
where he was."
Her head drooped as she spoke, and the tears that filled her eyes
dimmed the beauties of the outside world.
Her brother put his arm lovingly round her, and said in answer to her
last words, "God knows, dear Prissy, and his arm is round our erring
brother wherever he is; and, sister, somehow I can't despair of Lewis.
I know how far wrong he was led by evil companions; but Lewis had many
noble traits of character. His affection for his home was deep, his
love to our father intense, and he cherished the memory of our mother
fondly."
"But, Austin," interrupted Prissy, "if that were all so, how came he
to do what he knew would well-nigh break his father's heart, and would
have grieved so deeply our mother? How can you reconcile these things?"
"It is difficult, no doubt, to do so," replied Austin. "Lewis, by
nature, was easily led; and then, Prissy, he had not learned to lean
in his weakness on an Almighty strong arm, and so became a prey to
sharpers. But may we not believe that it was deep shame for the
disgrace he had brought on himself, and dread of seeing his father's
grief at it, that made him fly from home?"
"It may be so," replied Prissy. "There were other causes which helped
to drive him into evil companionship."
"Ah, well," said Austin, "if it were so, Prissy, you have nobly, as far
as possible, made up for your past neglect in that respect: 'The Lord
hath restored to you the years that the cankerworm hath eaten.' But we
must not linger here, pleasant as it is. Let us go first to our father
and see if he is willing to come to the drawing-room."
As together they entered the study, and the light of the lamp fell on
his sister's face and figure, Austin was struck with her beauty as he
had never been before. Her rich brown hair was brushed slightly back,
displaying her finely-formed brow. Her deep, thoughtful gray eyes
were turned lovingly towards her father; and her brother observed the
womanly dignity of her whole bearing, which the discipline of the last
few months had greatly enhanced and developed. Her dress, of some soft
crimson stuff, fell in graceful folds round her, contrasting with the
whiteness of her neck and arms, and adding beauty to the whole of her
appearance. No wonder her brother thought her fair to look on.
Dr. Warner willingly agreed to go to the drawing-room, saying, "What
although I cannot see the beauties of the tree, I can at least—thank
God!—hear the voices of my children and friends. Then I have my
borrowed eyes always beside me, you know," and as he spoke he laid his
hand on Prissy's arm. "Yes, my boy," he said turning to Austin, "one
of the greatest of my many mercies is the possession of such a loving
daughter as Priscilla. She has indeed shown me what noble, true work
can be done by 'only a girl.'"
"I knew her real worth long ago, father," said Austin, "and was sure
the day would come when you also would appreciate it. But who comes
here?" he added, as the study-door was opened, and the vicar entered,
followed by a young man who came forward with an outstretched hand.
Prissy went forward to meet him, and with a start of glad surprise
recognized her old friend Harry Lascelles.
The name escaped her lips, and instantly Dr. Warner was on his feet.
"Harry Lascelles! Is he here? Welcome, a thousand times welcome, though
I can no longer see thee face to face."
In a moment Harry was beside his old friend. "I am grieved, so grieved,
Dr. Warner, to hear of the trial that has fallen on you. I only heard
of it to-night; for a long time had elapsed since I had had news from
home, and I had begun to get anxious about you all.—It is pleasant to
see you again, Miss Prissy," he continued; "I can hardly believe my
eyes when I look at you. You were only a girl when I left home, and now
you are a woman."
And had he spoken out his thoughts, he would have added, "A rarely
beautiful one also." But Harry was no adept at compliments, so he
contented himself by letting his eyes say the words his lips refused to
utter.
"Then as to Austin, he has entirely grown out of my knowledge.
Dr. Warner," he said, turning suddenly towards him, "what tall,
fine-looking young men your sons have become! Why, Lewis is—"
But ere he could say another word, the father had sprung to his feet,
exclaiming—
"Lewis, did you say? What of him? Tell me, Harry, oh, tell me, is he
still alive? My erring but much loved boy!"
Dr. Lascelles gently put the old man back in his chair, then seating
himself beside him, he said, "Yes, Dr. Warner, your son Lewis is alive.
I have seen him, and bear a letter from him imploring your forgiveness.
And I can testify that, in the highest sense, 'he that was dead is
alive again, he that was lost is found' by the good Shepherd, and is
now, as he says himself, 'seeking first the kingdom of God and his
righteousness.'"
"God be praised," said the father. "Where is he now?"
Ere the question could be answered, Priscilla and Austin had eagerly
repeated it, saying, "Oh, tell us all. How, when, and where have you
seen him? And oh," added Prissy, "has he forgiven me?"
"Forgiven you?" repeated Harry. "I did not know he had anything to
forgive you. But here is his own letter; it will, no doubt, tell you
all you wish to know. But ere you read it, I must tell you what I know—"
"About a year ago our ship touched at Sydney, and the captain told us
he would be detained there on business several weeks. On hearing that,
I resolved I would regularly attend at the hospitals there, and so keep
up my medical knowledge of general cases, which I had very limited
opportunity of doing on board ship. Passing through the wards one day,
my attention was arrested by the face of a young lad which I seemed
to know, and yet was unable to tell to whom it belonged. I approached
the bed, and asked him some medical questions, when it was plain that
the lad knew me also, but did not wish me to recognize him; for as he
spoke, a deep flush suffused his face, and he turned his back to me,
muttering something about the light. But the moment I heard his voice,
I knew it was Lewis Warner that lay there."
"My boy! My loved boy!" exclaimed Dr. Warner.
Whilst both Prissy and Austin cried out in dismay, "Lewis lying ill in
a hospital alone in a foreign land!"
"He is all right now," continued Harry. "But let me finish my story. I
had heard from my father all about poor Lewis, and I at once addressed
him by name, saying kindly, 'I am grieved to see you here, and looking
so ill also. Do your friends know of your illness, and that you are
here?'"
"The answer was given in a hard, hoarse way: 'My friends! I have none.
I am called William Smith; don't you see my name there?' and he pointed
to a letter lying on the table beside him."
"I took his hand and said firmly, 'Lewis, there is no use in trying to
deceive me. I know you; and the moment you saw me, you recognized your
old friend Harry Lascelles. By the memory of your mother now in glory,
whom we both loved so clearly, speak to me frankly, Lewis, and tell me
all—why you left your home, and how you come to be here.'"
"For one moment he made an effort to repulse me; then, poor follow,
he broke down, and sobbed like a child, crying every now and then, 'O
father! Father! If only he would forgive me!'"
"Poor boy, poor suffering boy!" said Dr. Warner. "And you told him,
surely, Harry, you told him I had forgiven him long ago?"
"I did, doctor; and more than that. I told him how his heavenly Father,
against whom he had sinned so grievously, was wanting to forgive him
also, for Christ's sake. I left him much softened; and the eager way in
which he sought news of you all, showed how his heart clung to his home
and to the dear ones there. He had owed much to a kindhearted man of
the name of Barton, whom I afterwards saw, and who told me that Lewis
had been the means of saving him from ruin, by preventing him from
entering a gambling-room in Sydney a couple of years before. He and
Lewis had become acquainted with each other shortly before then; and
Barton, having a little money in his pocket, was just going to try his
luck at cards, and invited Lewis to join him, when the lad, who called
himself William Smith, laid his hand on his arm and implored him not to
enter the gambling-saloon, telling him it might prove his ruin if he
did so."
"'The slip of a lad looked earnest about it,' said Barton (in telling
me the story), 'so much so that I hesitated ere entering; and whilst I
was so doing, I seemed to hear the voice of my dead mother saying to
me, as she did the day before her death, "Enter not into the path of
sinners." So, turning to the lad beside me, I said, "Well, my lad, I
believe God sent you to me with a warning from him, and by his help,
I'll never cross the threshold of one of these saloons again."'"
"'Will and I,' he continued, 'became regular chums, and went to the
Kiandra gold diggings, where I picked up a few nuggets large enough to
enable me, when Will grew ill there, to bring him back here and get him
into the hospital, where—thank God!—you found him, sir.'"