THE BIRTHDAY GIFT.
In the midst of the shadow over the household at Ekero, Alma's birthday
had come. No festivities could be thought of. No birthday table was
decked for her with flowers and gifts. Her father had not even
remembered the fact that she was now eighteen years old until the
evening came on. The housekeeper, a thorough Swede in all things,
could not forget such an anniversary; but she was in no mood towards
Alma to prompt to any particular kindness in that direction, or any
festal preparations.
The father and daughter were sitting quietly together in the study in
the evening. "Alma," he began, "I have just remembered that it must be
your birthday. It has been a sad, neglected birthday for you, my
child; but it shall not pass altogether without notice. Give me the
jewel-case that has been in your charge, and the key too, dear. I
have, of course, meant that you should have these things that were so
peculiarly associated with your dear mother's younger days. The watch
you can wear at once, as your own does not seem to keep good time.
Hers was an excellent time-keeper, and it will remind you to be exact
and true, and gentle and holy, like your dear mother. I shall take
real pleasure in seeing you wear it. Go, daughter, at once! I am glad
I thought of something that will please you on your birthday."
Alma obeyed mechanically, and returned quickly with the empty case in
her hand, hoping that when the critical moment came she should be able
to explain herself satisfactorily. She gave the casket into her
father's hands, and waited in a silence so natural under the
circumstances that he did not notice it.
There was no sparkle from the dark cushions, but a sudden, astonished
sparkle in the colonel's eyes. "Empty, Alma! What does this mean?" he
exclaimed.
"I have given them away," she said, blushing very deeply.
"Given them away!" repeated the colonel, slowly and sternly.
"I have given them for a good object, very dear to my heart. I am sure
you would approve of it. Please, papa, do not ask me any more about it
now. I do not want to tell you yet. It is a secret. I have promised,
just to myself, and almost to God, never to tell any one until a
certain thing is accomplished--until I can fully succeed."
"What is the matter with you, child? Have you lost your senses? You
had no right to give away things intrusted to your care. I have told
you that, by your mother's simple will, all she had was left at my
disposition. Am I to be disappointed in both my children?" and the
colonel bowed his head upon his hands.
"Dear papa, you are not to be disappointed in me! I have done nothing
wrong." Here Alma's conscience gave her a sharp prick. Suddenly she
broke out, after a moment's pause, "I want to be like the princess. I
am sure that would please you, papa! You know she sold her jewels for
a home for the sick poor."
The colonel answered seriously: "The princess is a saintly woman, and
you would do well to follow her example. She sold her jewels to build
a home for the aged sick, but she did not do it, princess and grown
woman as she was, until she had asked the consent of her mother and her
brother the king. What have you done, my child? What have you been
thinking of? You must explain yourself fully. I have a right to
demand it!"
Alma again left the room, to return with the little yellow house in her
hands. "Here is my savings-box, papa," she said; "Nono made it for me."
A flush of pleasure came over the face of the colonel. "So exactly
like Karin's cottage!" he exclaimed. "What a clever little boy! I
like him."
"I thought--I thought," said Alma, encouraged by her father's smile--"I
thought I would like to have a home for sick little children. I wanted
to save my money to do something really good and lasting, instead of
fooling it away by giving a little here and there, that did not after
all do much good to anybody. I have saved all I could, and have given
nothing away for anything else, but it went very slowly, and then I
thought of those ornaments that were to be mine, and--I really did not
think you would care." Here Alma blushed, and added, "I hoped you
would not mind!" and her tears fell fast.
"My poor child!" said the colonel, as he put his arm around her and
drew her to his side. "So this is the explanation of the change that
had passed over you, and had given me so much pain!--my little Alma,
who loved so dearly to give, and who has lately been so hard and cold
that the very idea of an appeal from a poor family seemed to close her
heart and stiffen her face into determined opposition. You cannot be a
princess, dear, and do some great thing. I am afraid there was more
pride than holy love in your plan. You should not think of yourself
when you want to do good, but of your heavenly Master and his suffering
brothers. Remember that! That was your dear mother's way. Self
seemed dead in her. If she could but have lived to teach you by her
beautiful example! It is not in seeking to do some great thing that we
are in the right path. The little things that come to us day by day
and hour by hour are safest for most Christians, and surely so for
beginners. Where is the key to this locked little house?"
Alma produced the key at once, and placed it in her father's hands. He
might open that small door if he pleased. She fancied it would be
almost wrong to do it herself.
The door was opened, and there, among small coins and great, lay the
jewels. The crystal of the watch had been broken by some falling
contribution. The colonel took the watch in his hand, and said,--
"This can easily be repaired. You must wear it constantly; and may it
remind you that the best gifts to God are those that are offered
humbly, modestly, with no thought of self, and with no desire for the
praise of man. If the little watch can so remind you of your duty, it
will be a holy messenger to you, and so in a way set apart to the
service of God. You have unwisely given, as you thought, the diamonds
to the poor. We will not take them back. Your dear mother had not
herself worn them for many years. They shall be sold, and you may send
the money anonymously to any hospital for children where help is
needed. So you will keep your motives. With the money lying in the
little cottage you can have the joy of helping the suffering poor; but
you had better consult with me as to how to use it. It is not to be
thrown away now lavishly on every applicant, to do perhaps more harm
than good. Lay the jewels in the case and lock the door of the little
cottage." He was going to add, "Remember, Alma, that one kind word
from you to your brother is a better offering for you than much money
given in charity." The words were not spoken. He but said, "Poor
Frans! where is he? God help my boy!"
Alma put her arm round her father's neck and whispered, "Dear papa, if
Frans comes home--when he comes home, I do really mean to be more kind
to him than ever before; but he--"
"No 'buts,' Alma," said the father. "However far wrong your brother
has gone, he is still your brother, your only brother, and it will be
your duty to love him, and pray for him, and watch over him with tender
affection. He has no mother. You must be to him all that a good
sister can be."
"Papa!" said Alma, deeply moved, "you are too gentle towards me. I do
not deserve it. I half felt all the while that I might be doing wrong
about those things that did not really belong to me. I see it now very
plainly. I would not listen to my conscience. I see I had a foolish
pride in what I was trying to do. I did not see it clearly then, but
now I know I was taking possession of what did not really belong to
me--I who have been so angry with Frans, so ashamed even to think of
him as my brother! I don't know what I should have been if I had
fallen into temptation, and had had a bad companion to lead me on!
Please, please, papa, forgive me! I know you do; but I cannot forgive
myself! I am sure the sight of dear mamma's watch ought always to make
me humble."
"May God help you and keep you from all evil!" said the father
solemnly, as he kissed his daughter and bade her good-night.