Tom and Lucy Hurst peered anxiously out of their chamber windows at
six o'clock on Monday morning to see a clear, calm, beautiful sky,
with a faint roseate flush in the east, where, by-and-by, the sun
would come up brilliantly. Aunt Hepsy was as cross as two sticks, and
Uncle Josh morose and taciturn; but even these things failed to damp
their spirits, and at a quarter to eleven they set off, a very happy
pair, across the meadow to the parsonage. Both looked well. Lucy's
mourning, though simple and inexpensive, was wonderfully becoming;
and some fine delicate lace, which had been her mother's, relieved
the sombre black dress nicely. Miss Goldthwaite was very proud of her
friends, and told them so when she greeted them. They were just in
time, and the four set off, Tom in front with Miss Goldthwaite, and
Lucy walking with the minister. She was shy and quiet, but somehow
nobody could be long afraid of Mr. Goldthwaite. He possessed his
sister's charm of manner, and drew Lucy on to talk in spite of
herself. At the Red House there was a great bustle. The big waggon
was at the front door, and the little one at the back, into which the
cook was stowing all sorts of eatables. Minnie Keane, in a state of
great excitement, was flying about with a tiny kitten in each arm,
the mother following at her heels mewing piteously for her children
to be left in safety. Minnie dropped the kittens when she saw the
party from the parsonage coming round the avenue, and ran to meet
them. Miss Goldthwaite made the introductions, and then she and Mr.
Goldthwaite passed into the house, leaving the children beside the
waggon. There was but a moment's shyness, and then the irrepressible
Minnie's tongue began to go freely.
"You look nice, Lucy," she said frankly. "I guess we'll have a good
time to-day. There always is a good time when papa takes us
anywhere."
"This is a nice horse," said Tom, feeling he must say something.
"What's his name?"
"Oh, that's Billy. He's very old, and rather cross. You should see
papa's Beauty. Come to the stable and I'll show you her."
She drew Lucy's arm within her own and darted off, Tom following.
Minnie was quite at home in the stable, and familiar with every
animal in it. Beauty pricked up her ears and whinnied at the touch of
Minnie's caressing fingers.
"You ask Miss Goldthwaite about Beauty," she said. "She thinks there
isn't another horse like her in the world.--Don't you love horses,
Lucy?"
"Yes; I love all animals," replied Lucy. "I saw some nice little
kittens round there."
"Yes; I've three. We'd better go round now, I think; perhaps they'll
want to be going.--I'm glad it's a fine day; aren't you, Tom?"
"I think I am. I looked out at six this morning to see if it was.
It'll be glorious up the Peak."
As the three came round to the front door again, Miss Keane appeared
on the threshold. She looked very tall and stately and awe-inspiring
with her trailing dress and eye-glass. Yet her smile as she shook
hands with the children was so pleasant that Lucy forgot to be afraid
of her.
"My mother would like to see you, Tom and Lucy," she said. "Will you
come upstairs? she is not able to leave the room, you know.--Minnie,
I wish you would look round for papa. It is just twelve; we should be
going."
Minnie scampered off, and Tom and Lucy followed Miss Keane up the
broad staircase into the drawing-room, the beauty of which held them
spellbound for a few minutes. On a couch near the fire lay a lady,
with gray hair and a pale, thin, worn face, which wore such an
expression of peace and happiness that Lucy felt her heart go out to
her at once. Mr. and Miss Goldthwaite and George Keane were there
also. Mrs. Keane held out both her hands, and the two came shyly
forward--Tom blushing a little to be among so many strangers.
"I am glad to see you, my dears," she said very heartily.--"Kiss me,
Lucy. I knew your mother, dear. You remind me of her very much."
The ready tears sprang to Lucy's eyes. Kindness always moved her
thus, and she took a stool close to the couch, while Tom's eyes
wandered round the room, lingering hungrily on the exquisite
water-colours on the walls. It was long since he had had such an
opportunity. At Thankful Rest the art collection consisted of a few
family portraits, ludicrous alike in execution and in colouring. A
smile and a glance passed from Mr. Goldthwaite to his sister as they
noted how speedily the boy became absorbed.
"These are my brother Robert's drawings," said Miss Keane, touching
his arm and beckoning him to come nearer. "You are fond of painting,
I think?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Tom, his face flushing a little. "And these
are so beautiful, I could not help looking at them."
"If you will come up to the Red House some other day, I shall show
you all my brother's sketch-books and odd drawings," said Miss Keane.
"I am very fond of the work myself, and might perhaps be able to help
you a little, you know, and I think you would make a clever pupil;
what do you say?"
The eyes behind the glasses beamed so kindly at him that Tom forgot
that his first impression of her had been unpleasant, and a warm
flush of gratitude answered her better than his words. They were few
and sad enough.
"There is nothing I should like so much in the world, ma'am, and I
thank you very much; but I can't come--my uncle and aunt would not
let me."
"I must see about that," said Miss Keane promptly; and at that moment
Judge Keane's stately figure appeared in the doorway.
"Are you going to sit there all day, you young folk?" he called out
hastily.--"Oh, here you are, little ones;--glad to see you, my lad;"
and he gave Tom's hand a warm grasp, and touched Lucy's white face
with his forefinger.
"Want some roses there, doesn't she, wife?" he said. "There'll be a
glorious air up the Peak to-day, it will bring them there, if
anything will."
"I wish you could have come, dear Mrs. Keane," whispered Carrie as
she bent a moment over the couch before they passed out; "you used to
be the very sunshine of us all."
"I think of you, dear, and am happy in my own way at home," she
replied with her sweet smile; "take care of yourself and of this pale
little maiden.--Lucy dear, good-bye. Come and see me again."
"Indeed I will, if I can, ma'am," replied Lucy earnestly; and then
they all went away. Minnie was already in the big waggon waiting
impatiently for the start.
"You will go inside too, little one, I suppose," said the judge to
Lucy; and with one swing of his strong arms he placed her beside
Minnie. "The rest of us will walk a piece, I fancy. As this is
supposed to be a climbing expedition, we must make some show, at
least, to begin with."
There was a general laugh, and Tom and Lucy thought there could not
be so pleasant an old gentleman as Judge Keane anywhere.
Miss Keane elected Tom for her cavalier, and made him feel very
important indeed, by treating him as if he were quite a man; and they
got into a very interesting talk about the great painters and their
work. She was astonished to find what a thorough knowledge the boy
had of the subject, and how well he could talk on what interested him
most.
"Robert must see this young artist," was her mental comment. The
judge followed behind with Mr. Goldthwaite; while Mr. George Keane
and Miss Goldthwaite brought up the rear, walking very slowly, and
talking very earnestly. Nobody took any notice of them whatever,
evidently being of opinion that they were quite capable of amusing
each other. The waggon-path, winding gradually up the mountain side,
was rough and stony, and even Billy's cautious feet stumbled
sometimes; and the two girls were jolted so that they laughed till
they cried.
"I think we'd better get out; don't you, Lucy?" cried Minnie at last,
"else there'll be none of us left to see the top of the Peak. I never
was so sore in my life. Isn't it fun though?"
"Yes; and the sun is so bright, and everybody so kind, and everything
so pleasant, I don't know what to do," said Lucy with softening eyes.
Minnie looked at her curiously.
"I say, don't you have any good times at your home, Lucy?" she asked
soberly.
"Sometimes--not very often," answered Lucy reluctantly.
"I don't think your aunt is a very nice woman anyway," said Minnie
with her usual candour. "She looked at me so one day in church,
'cause I laughed right out at a funny little dog with a stumpy tail
running in and right up to Mr. Goldthwaite. Wouldn't you have laughed
too?"
"I don't know," said Lucy; "if it was very funny, I daresay I would."
"How pretty you are," said Minnie after a while; "my sister Alice
says so--I guess she knows." Lucy blushed, not being accustomed to
such plain speaking. "I think Miss Goldthwaite perfectly elegant,"
went on the young critic. "She is going to marry my brother George,
do you know?"
"Is she?" asked Lucy, much interested.
"Yes; and papa and mamma are crazed about her. Everybody is. Isn't
she just splendid?"
"There is nobody like her," answered Lucy. Minnie could never know
what she had been and was to her.
"Lovers are stupid, don't you think?" asked Minnie again. "They
always go away by themselves, and things; you just watch George and
Carrie to-day. It is a great trial to me."
"What is?" asked Mr. George Keane, pausing at the side of the waggon.
Minnie laughed outright, so did Lucy.
"It's a secret," replied she in a very dignified way.--"O Miss
Goldthwaite, are you coming into the waggon?"
"Yes;--will you make room for me, Lucy?"
Lucy moved further up the cushion, and Mr. George Keane assisted Miss
Goldthwaite to her place.
"O Carrie, succumbed already!" cried Miss Keane.
"Won't you come in too?" replied Carrie.
"No, thank you; I mean to climb to the top. Somebody must sustain the
credit of our sex."
"I know it's safe in your hands, Alice," said Carrie serenely.--"Lucy
dear, you look happy. Do you enjoy it?"
The sparkle in Lucy's eyes answered her better than any words.
The road was becoming rougher and steeper, and Billy's progress
slower and slower, and the summit of the Peak drawing nearer and
nearer. Miss Keane and Tom had got ahead of the waggon, and were the
first to reach the top. At last Billy, with a great pull, brought the
waggon to the level ground, and then stood still. They all alighted,
and, forming a little circle, stood drinking in the beauty of the
scene. Wondering how Tom would be affected, Miss Keane turned to
speak to him, but he had gone; and looking round, she saw him
standing by a huge boulder, but his face was turned away, and
understanding why he felt it best to be alone for a few minutes, she
did not venture to disturb him. It was a panorama of wonderful
beauty. They seemed to stand up among the clouds, the air was so pure
and cool and bracing. Far beneath, the houses of the town looked like
a tiny ant-nest, enveloped in a filmy haze. The great plain stretched
around for miles and miles, dotted here and there by many a pretty
homestead, and intersected by the winding river, glinting and
glistening in the sun as it hurried on and on to join the far-off
sea. Far across the plain the smoke of distant cities obscured the
horizon, but none of the noise or bustle was borne on the breeze to
this lonely mountain peak. A great silence fell upon the little
company, and some bright eyes grew dim as they looked upon the beauty
of the world the great Creator had made.
"Just say a few words of prayer, Frank," said the judge at length, in
a soft voice; "it will do us all good, I think." Mr. Goldthwaite took
off his hat reverently.
"Our Father, we thank thee for this day. We thank thee for sparing us
all to come here again; and for the sunshine, and the beauty, and the
gladness of the earth. Help us more and more to feel the power and
majesty of thy hand, and the great love of thy infinite heart. Be
with every one of us to-day, blessing us as only thou canst bless,
and help us to live to thy glory; for Jesus' sake. Amen."
"Amen," repeated Judge Keane. "Now we can begin the day with a better
heart than ever."