ARCHIE AND BELLE.
More than two years passed pleasantly by, and Belle was still at the
farmhouse. She had indeed been treated like a daughter of the house, and
Archie had been more than brotherly. He never went from home to find
amusement. After the day of toil he spent the evening in Belle's
society--in winter in the cheerful living-room, in summer they sat on a
rustic seat under the trees that sheltered the house from the winter's
wind and the summer's sun; or they strolled together in the gloaming,
frequently extending their walk to honest Wullie's cottage. Many
expressions of tenderness had fallen from Archie's lips, and many a look
of love had not escaped Belle's notice; so when, one evening as they
were returning from her father's house, he addressed her on the subject
nearest to his heart, she was not surprised. Let us not attempt to
repeat their words. To those who love each other such words are too
sacred to reach the ear or meet the eye of the great world; they belong
exclusively to the little world of which they two are the only
inhabitants. Let it suffice to say that thereafter they worked with
still lighter hearts, happy in the present, and with a happy future in
anticipation.
When Belle reached her nineteenth birthday they were married.
Great was the joy of Mrs. Murdoch to see her daughter so well settled in
life. She would probably never know the want of anything essential to
her comfort. A busy life of honest toil was before her; but toil is what
these simple people expected, what they desired. To them idleness, not
labor, was a disgrace.
Belle returned to her mother's cottage a month before the marriage. It
was a busy month. All that hands could do to put the little house in
order was joyfully done. Then there were new clothes to be made for all,
for all must look their best on Belle's wedding-day. Jamie was at home.
It was the time of his vacation.
The time passed too quickly for all that was to be done. When the
wedding-morning came, and all the happy family appeared in festive
attire, Mrs. Murdoch herself becomingly dressed, her face beaming from
the soft lace of her new cap-frill, no wonder that the heart of this
once lonely, suffering woman swelled with maternal pride and with
gratitude to God that so much good had fallen to her lot. Here were her
two children who once had been the only sharers of her nightly vigils,
the son nearly educated, and about to move in a sphere far above the
loftiest flights of her early thoughts, and the daughter the happy bride
of a prosperous young farmer.
The minister arrived, and the happy pair were united according to God's
ordinance. Many and cordial were the congratulations of the guests; and
many compliments to the bride's beauty were whispered among the
simple-hearted neighbors. Even Donald McPherson remarked to his wife
that he had never seen a bonnier bride. "Ay," said Katy, "she is bonny,
and she has the grace o' a born leddy."
After an hour spent in conversation the guests were seated at the table,
which, for the second time, was spread with a bountiful wedding-feast.
When the guests had dispersed, Mrs. Murdoch busied herself with
restoring things somewhat to their wonted order; her thoughts were no
less busy than her hands. "Oor life is unco checkered, Wullie," she
said; "but still God has never gien us sae mony sorrows as to overwhelm
us, nor sae mony joys as to turn oor heids. When we are a'maist fainting
for fear o' the darkness, he sends light; and when we are o'er muckle
exalted in oor feelings, he gars us through some turn o' his providence
to come doun."
"That is weel said, wifie. Ane canna fail to see the Faither's gudeness
in sic management o' us. But I think we wouldna need the bit and bridle
sae often if we would tak God's gifts without forgetting wha sent them.
God's children a' hae their chastisements; the Book says they maun hae
them; but I trow the humble get far less than the proud and rebellious.
I hope oor bairns will no hae to be sae muckle buffeted before they seek
the rest that is provided for them aneath the sheltering wing of the
Almighty. Annie is like Rab; hae ye never noticed it?"
"I hae seen it; but sin' she is a lass, I hae nae fears for her. Rab had
nae fauts forbye drinking, ye ken."
"He was a'maist too heidstrang; but I wouldna mak mention o' it, savin'
for Annie's sake. She would hae her ain way too if she wasna held wi' a
strang hand. But we will gie her wi' the rest o' oor dear anes to the
keeping o' the gude Lord. He kens best the way each maun be led."