If Eastwood had been beautiful to the eyes of the sisters when seen
under Christmas skies, what was it now in the prime of summer? The pony
carriage awaited them at the station, and in it they drove to the Park
the nearest way through the loveliest lanes, in the hedges of which
Tessie counted nearly a score of different green growing things besides
honeysuckle and foxgloves and bluebells and many a flower that she could
not name. How wide and still the Park was, with only green grass and
great trees to see at first, and by-and-by shrubbery, and then flowers,
and then the house itself came in sight. There were open doors and
windows, and people coming and going over the lawn, and Grandmamma
Bentham sitting in a garden chair, in full sight of the gate.
Some one was coming to meet them, as the carriage stopped at the east
gate, and they came in. Some one! There were many people. Colonel
Bentham was there, and Captain Clare, and Everard, and their brothers
Charlie and Hubert. But "some one" was Selina, not led by Miss Agnace,
as might have seemed natural, not led by any one, though Everard Bentham
walked at a little distance from her, regarding her with the strangest
wondering smile upon his face. Their brother Edgar was there too, a
little in advance of the rest. But Selina walked alone, and came
forward to them, holding her hand a little out before her, as she always
used to do, walking softly and slowly to the very gate, for Frederica
stood still and waited. Tessie waited too a moment, and then sprang
forward with a cry.
"Selina! Do you see me? Oh! Fred. Oh! mama! mama?"
And then she clasped and kissed her, clinging to her, and sobbing
wildly, moved as no one had ever seen the sharp little Tessie moved
before.
"Gently, Tessie love," said her guardian, putting his arms about her,
and drawing her aside from the rest. Frederica stood still and white at
the gate, so still and white that her brother Edgar drawing near looked
anxiously at her. But she only looked at Selina, who paused at a little
distance.
"Frederica," she said, "I can see you."
Then Frederica awoke out of her dream; but before she sprang forward to
clasp her sister, she turned and kissed the hand her brother had laid on
her shoulder. She did not cry out as Tessie had done, nor speak a word,
but she held her sister's hand firmly as they walked towards the house,
looking at her with eyes in which the wonder hardly left room for the
pleasure to appear.
The meeting had not happened just as their elder brother had desired and
planned. He had meant to prepare his sisters for the happy change in
Selina, but perhaps it happened just as well. They were left very much
to themselves for the rest of the day; and as their way was at such
times, they talked in their mother tongue fast and eagerly. That is,
Tessie and the little brothers talked, and Selina also, who had much to
tell them, though she told it in few words. The beginning and the end
of all was her brother Edgar's kindness to her during the time she had
been away.
As to how it all came about--how through the wonderful skill, and
unfailing gentle care of her brother's friend, and of her brother as
well, the blessed gift of sight was restored to her, need not be told
here. The sweet blue eyes looked just as they had always looked, but
there was light in them now. Her face was changed. It was not so
peaceful and serener--it could hardly be brighter than it used to be.
But it had an expectant look, and its expression varied every moment.
Her constant movements towards this and that, in her attempts at a
nearer acquaintance with things which she had hitherto only known by
touch or by sound, gave her an air of restlessness not at all like
Selina, and for a little while Frederica watched her doubtfully. But
when Edgar came among them, hushing the eager buzz of talk, and saying
gently to Selina that she had seen enough for one day, the old look came
back, sweet and serene, and she lay down at his bidding, with closed
eyes and a smile on her lips that reassured her sisters. And then Edgar
said in response to the brightening of Frederica's face,--
"Yes, it is a new world to her. But she has had the best things all
along--the peace and the joy--and she is not going to lose them because
she can see. I think you may let yourself be glad for her."
"Yes, I am glad! for her," said Frederica gravely, "very glad, I think;
or I shall be glad by-and-by."
"Are you sure you are glad now?" said Captain Clare to her when a few
days had passed, and they had in some measure become accustomed to the
knowledge that Selina could see; "because I do not think you always look
very glad."
"I am glad for Selina, I am glad for us all: But then, you see, I do not
quite know what I am going to do with myself and my life now," said she
gravely. "I have it all to plan over again, now that Selina will not
need me to take care of her."
"You need not be afraid, I think," said her friend. "Your work will
come to you; and indeed, your sister needs you as much as ever. She
does not seem to be able to do without you."
"She likes to look at me, because I am like mama, she says. She has not
forgotten mama all these years since she was a little child. And I am
to teach her all I know; and that will not take me long," added she,
laughing. "And besides, she has been learning all the time, though not
with her eyes. Oh, yes! I am glad!"
In the midst of their rejoicing Mr St. Cyr came to Eastwood Park; and
if Frederica had had her choice of all the pleasant things that might
happen to them, she would certainly have chosen this. It was almost
like being at home again, and having the old times back. Not but that
they were all quite content at Eastwood; but their old friend, who had
also been their mother's friend, was very welcome and dear. They had
some things to say to him that it would not have been easy to say to any
one else; and his odd ways with them, sometimes merry and sometimes
grave, always old-fashioned and friendly, had a wonderful charm for them
all, and even for those who were looking on.
Frederica no longer doubted her joy over her sister when she presented
her to Mr St. Cyr. Her tears fell, it is true, in a sudden shower, as
she said to him, "If mama had only known!" But her tears were soon dry;
and in his society, responding to his quaint ways and speeches, she grew
more talkative and merry than ever her English friends had seen her
before. She was more like the Fred who used to drive "Jack and Jill,"
and amuse the children in Miss Robina's orchard, than like the grave
little monitress of her brothers and Tessie, inclined to be careful and
troubled about many things.
Mr St. Cyr stayed at Eastwood till the summer days began to grow short,
and then he went away, not to Canada, but to some mild climate, for
another winter, till his health should be more firmly re-established.
It was quite as well, for the peace of mind of the young people, that he
should have so decided; for they might have longed to return with him,
had he been going home.
If I were to carry my story over the next three years, I should have
little more to say than this: they were happy and profitable years for
them all. Selina learned all that Frederica could teach her, and some
things besides. Sometimes they were in London, and at Christmas times
and during the summer they were at beautiful Eastwood. They went
through some of the prettiest parts of England with their brothers, to
their great delight; and after a time their travels extended beyond
England. They saw just what other travellers see, and enjoyed it more
than most travellers do, being young and full of life, with no weight of
care pressing upon them.
And after their travels were over they began seriously to consider and
plan what their life-work was to be, and on which side of the sea it was
to be done. Selina still spoke of the blind old people and little
children whom she would like to gather into their old home, to care for
and to teach. But her plans went farther than these now.
"For surely," said she, "if we were to tell our people about Jesus and
all He has done for them, they would turn to Him rather than to those
who bid them look to Mary and the Saints in time of need. It is because
they do not know Him that they look to be saved in some other way, and I
would like to teach them. It is at home that we ought to be, Miss
Agnace, is it not?"
But Miss Agnace had little to say, knowing better than they all that
would make it impossible for these young girls to influence directly any
one among a people so docile in the hands of their spiritual guides.
"God will prepare your work for you," said Miss Agnace gravely. "It
matters little where it is, so that it is done for Him. We must wait
and see."
Selina's work came to her in an unexpected way, but by a sure token she
knew it to be God-given work when it came. It was no new work. Ever
since the happy Christmas-time when the blind girl went softly about the
great house at Eastwood, and sat in the sunshine in Grandmamma Bentham's
garden, she had been doing a good work for Everard Bentham. Her
influence was exerted quite unconsciously. She did not know how much
every gentle word of hers meant to him, how dear she became to him day
by day. But when he left his father's house after that time, it was
with a new resolve for the future--to the living of a new life, to a new
end. Three years of earnest devotion to the duties of his profession,
and to the still higher duties of a Christian gentleman, had placed him
on different ground from that which he had occupied in the days when his
father had suffered deep anxiety with regard to him. Edgar Vane had
always loved him, now he respected and trusted him; and when he found
courage to ask Selina to become his wife, neither her guardian nor her
brother said him nay. Selina had no doubt then on which side of the sea
her work was to lie.
All their friends were surprised when it came to be known that Captain
Clare had persuaded Frederica to share a soldier's fortunes as his wife.
Not that it needed much persuasion. For though he was older and graver
than she, one who might be thought little likely to take a young girl's
fancy, Frederica knew his worth, and had long loved him, first as her
brother's friend, and then as her own. Her husband took her to Canada
for a time, where his regiment was stationed, and Tessie accompanied
them. Selina and her husband also went with them for a summer holiday.
And so Selina saw her old home, as Edgar had foretold. It was she who,
through the lifting morning mists, first caught sight of the city roofs
and the cathedral towers, and the mountain beyond, beautiful with the
level light of the sunrise on them. She saw her old home, and the two
graves, and the faces of some people who had only been as names to her
in the old days. She saw her home, and for a time she wished she had
not seen it, but that she had allowed it still to stand in her memory as
the sweetest and loveliest spot on earth, made beautiful in her thought
by the remembrance of her mother and of all they had been to each other
there.
For the old home was changed. The great warehouses pressed closer and
closer upon it. The garden had been encroached upon, and the shadows of
great chimneys and workshops darkened the lawn. It was very little like
the home she had been remembering so lovely all these years. It was
little like home to many of them now.
There were few people that they remembered well. They saw Miss Robina
again, but her mother was dead, and so was Mistress Campbell. Madame
Precoe was very friendly with them, in her unpleasant way. She smiled,
and was polite, and spoke softly to them, but she never allowed them to
forget that she believed them to have wandered far from the truth, and
that days of darkness awaited them.
Father Jerome did not come to see them, but one day Frederica met him in
the street. He had grown very old and bowed, and walked wearily, with
his eyes fixed upon the ground, so that he did not see her when she
passed. For the moment she was glad, but afterwards she could not
forget his face, nor the look it wore,--a look not peaceful, but
silent--blank--unresponsive.
Mr St. Cyr was home by this time, and they saw him often. But he would
not speak much about his brother.
"He is not happy," said he; "but that is a small matter. I pray God to
give him His peace."
And these young people, who had only just escaped great suffering and
sorrow at his hand, remembering all the way by which they had been led
and guided since then, could only join heartily in the prayer that God's
peace might indeed come upon him, and God's light as well.
Selina and her husband had only a summer holiday to give to her native
country, and they did not linger long in M--. Selina had been glad to
come, but she was not sorry to go. On the spot she did not find it easy
to identify herself with the little blind child who had lived so happily
with her mother there. She seemed to herself to be a different person
now. She might have been quite content to remain, if her lot had been
cast in her old home, but she returned gladly to the land of her
adoption. Miss Agnace returned with her. Whether she asked and
obtained leave from those whom in former days she had vowed to obey, or
whether she broke her bonds of her own free will, no one asked her. She
is happy in the loving service of one whom she so faithfully cared for
when she was in need of care, and happier still in the higher service of
a Lord and Master whom she has better learned to know.
Tessie stayed in Canada with her sister Caroline; and when the brothers
have thoroughly prepared themselves for the work that awaits them, one
or both of them may join her there. They both give fair promise that
they mean to do faithfully that which is given them to do.
Frederica's work lies wherever her husband's duty calls him. It is
among the women and the little children of the regiment, who need her
care; and the same gentle brightness that endeared her to her friends in
the old days, makes her a messenger of blessing to many a suffering
soul. The message that brought peace to the troubled heart of her
mother, when the shadows of the valley of death began to darken around
her, has--spoken by Frederica's lips--brought peace to many a troubled
heart since then.
This is her work, and her happiness as well, and it does not matter on
which side of the sea such work is done.