THE BASKET OF FLOWERS.
One day, early in the charming month of May, Mary went into a wood near
her home to get some branches and twigs of the willow and hazel. When
her father was not busily engaged in the garden, he occupied his time
in making baskets of all sorts, and particularly lady's work-baskets.
While he busied himself in this way, Mary read to him from the Bible or
some good book, or, as her father worked, he talked to her about the
highest matters.
While Mary was gathering the materials for her father's basket-work,
she found some beautiful specimens of lily-of-the-valley; and,
gathering sufficient of the flowers, she made two bunches, one for her
father and the other for herself. After she had finished her work, and
when she was returning home through a meadow, she met the Countess of
Eichbourg and her daughter Amelia who were taking an afternoon walk.
The ladies spent the greater part of their time in the city, but
occasionally they lived for a few days at the Castle.
Some of the most important circumstances of life spring from apparently
trifling events. In the case of Mary, this accidental meeting with the
Countess and her daughter proved the beginning of the painful
circumstances of this story. But God overrules all events, and this
tale gives abundant proof that all things work together for good to
them that love God.
As the ladies came near Mary, she stood a little on one side to let
them pass; but when they saw the beautiful bunches of lilies in her
hand they stopped to admire them, and wanted to buy one. Mary
respectfully declined to sell her flowers, but she begged that the
ladies would each accept a bunch. They were so struck with the girl's
unaffected grace and modesty, that they gladly took her little
offering, and Amelia requested her to gather more and bring them to the
Castle every day for the rest of the season.
Mary faithfully performed this duty, and every morning while the
flowers were in bloom she carried a bunch of lilies to the young lady.
By and by an intimacy, which was something more than ordinary between
two girls of such widely different positions, sprang up between Mary
and Amelia. They were nearly of the same age, their tastes were
similar, and it is not surprising that the acquaintance begun in a
chance manner developed into a sincere friendship.
The anniversary of Amelia's birthday drew near, and Mary determined to
make her some little present. She had given her so many bunches of
flowers, that she puzzled her brain to think of some new gift. During
the winter her father had been making a beautiful basket, which he
intended to give to Mary herself. It was the most finished piece of
work he had ever done, and he had worked on it a design of the village
in which they lived. Mary's idea now was to fill this basket with
flowers, and to offer it to the young Countess as her birthday present.
Her father readily fell in with the plan, and added a finishing touch
to it by weaving Amelia's name in on one side of the basket and the
Count's coat-of-arms on the other.
The long-expected day arrived, and early in the morning Mary gathered
the freshest and most beautiful roses, the richest pinks, and other
flowers of beautiful colours. She picked out some green branches full
of leaves, and arranged them in the basket, so that all the colours,
though perfectly distinct, were sweetly and delicately blended. A light
garland composed of rosebuds and moss was passed around the basket, and
Amelia's name could be distinctly read enclosed in a coronet of
forget-me-nots. The basket when completed was a thing of uncommon
beauty.
When Mary went to the Castle with her basket-present, the young
Countess Amelia was sitting at her toilet. Her maid was with her busily
engaged on making her young mistress's head-dress for the birthday
feast. Mary shyly offered her present, adding the best wishes of her
heart for the young Countess's happiness. Amelia received the present
with unaffected pleasure, and in an impulsive manner she warmly
expressed her delight, as she viewed first of all the charming flowers
with which the basket was filled, and examined more carefully the
beautiful design of the basket itself.
[Illustration: "Mary shyly offered her present."
_See page 15._]
"Dear Mary," she said, "why, you have robbed your garden to make me
this present. As for the basket, I have never seen anything so
beautiful in all my life. Come, we will go and show it to my mother."
Taking Mary affectionately by the hand, the girls went together to the
apartments of the Countess. "See, mother," cried Amelia, "of all my
birthday presents, surely nothing can equal the one I have received
from Mary. Never have I seen so beautiful a basket, and nowhere can you
find such beautiful flowers." The Countess was equally pleased with
Mary's present, although she expressed herself more moderately. "What a
charming basket!" she said, "and its flowers, how beautiful! They are
yet wet with dew. The basket of flowers does credit to the taste of
Mary but more to the kindness of her heart." Asking Mary to remain in
the room, she made a sign to Amelia to follow her into another
apartment.
"Amelia," said the Countess, "Mary must not be permitted to go away
without some suitable return. What have you to give her?"
Amelia paused for a moment's reflection. "I think," she replied, "one
of my dresses would be a most acceptable gift. For instance, if you
will permit me, my dear mother, that one with the red and white flowers
on the deep green ground. It is almost new; I have worn it but once. It
is a little too short for me, but it will almost fit Mary, and she can
arrange it herself. She is so handy with her needle. If, therefore, you
do not think the present too valuable----"
The Countess interrupted her. "Too valuable! certainly not. When you
wish to give anything it ought to be something good and serviceable.
The green robe with the flowers will be very appropriate for Mary."
"Go now, my dear children," said the Countess, when they returned to
the room where Mary was, "take good care of the flowers, that they may
not fade before dinner. I want the guests to admire the basket also,
which will be the most beautiful ornament on our table."
Amelia ran to her room with Mary, and told Juliette, her maid, to bring
the dress with the white and red flowers.
"Do you wish to wear that dress to-day, miss?" said her maid.
"No," said Amelia, "I intend to make a present of it to Mary."
"Give that dress away!" replied Juliette hastily. "Does the Countess
know?"
"You forget yourself, I think, Juliette," said Amelia with dignity.
"Bring me the dress, and give yourself no trouble about the rest."
Juliette turned away hastily, her face burning with anger, and her
heart full of spite. Pulling the door of the wardrobe open, she took
from it the young Countess's dress. "Oh, I could tear it to pieces,"
she said passionately. "This sly Mary has already wormed her way into
the affections of my young mistress, and now she steals from me this
dress which ought to have been mine when the Countess had done with it.
I could tear the eyes out of this little flower-girl; but some day I
will be revenged." For the time being, however, she had to suppress her
anger, and, taking the dress on her arm, she returned to her mistress
and gave her the dress with a pleasant air.
"Dear Mary," said Amelia, "many of the presents which I have had to-day
have cost more money than your basket, but none of them have given me
so much pleasure. Will you take this dress from me as a token of my
affection, and carry my best wishes to your good old father?"
Mary was not a vain girl, but her eyes sparkled at the sight of the
beautiful dress, which surpassed anything she had ever dreamed of
possessing. After warm thanks, she kissed the hand of the young
Countess and left the Castle.
Amelia's maid continued her work in silence, but with jealous fury
burning at her heart. The many tugs which she gave to the head-dress
she was preparing made Amelia at length inquire--
"Are you angry, Juliette?"
"I should be silly indeed, miss," answered Juliette; "to be angry
because you choose to be generous."
"That is a very sensible answer, Juliette," replied Amelia, "I hope you
may feel just as sensible."
Meantime Mary ran home to her father to show her new dress. The good
old man, while pleased at his daughter's pleasure, could not help
feeling a little anxiety when he saw the present. "I would much rather,
my child," he said, "that you had not taken the basket to the young
Countess, but it cannot be helped now. I fear that this valuable
present will but rouse the jealousy of some of our neighbours, and,
what would be still worse, that it may make you vain. Take care, my
dear Mary, that you fall not into this great evil. No costly and
beautiful garments so much adorn a young girl as modesty and good
manners. It is the Bible that says the ornament of a meek and quiet
spirit is in the sight of God of great price."