“Oh, Miss Lane, is that all?” cried the children. “Please tell us the
rest. What became of Willie? and did your papa come back?”
Jennie’s silks were untangled, and Mr. Graham’s eyes were wide open;
but bed time had come for Tan and Rosie, and so they had to be
satisfied for that evening.
Christmas came and went. Allie Ross and her mother were made happy, and
Lillie finished the stockings. Poor Jennie succeeded only in finishing
her “odds and ends” by New Year, and very sad and dispirited she grew
over the work many times; but when it was over, and she began fresh and
with a clear conscience, she was glad of the discipline.
Christmas Day did not seem dull, though not a single present filled
the stocking of any. Mr. Graham had no idea of making the sacrifice
incomplete: he intended that his children should feel what self-denial
meant, and learn to practise it.
It was some time before Miss Lane finished her “Life,” as the little
ones called it. It was rather a mild day—one of the January thawing
ones—before they heard the whole.
“Did your cousin Robbie get to be a good boy, Miss Lane,” asked Rosie,
while they were all in the parlor, before evening came on.
“Yes. I told you about my cousin Robbie when I first came here. It was
he that wandered in the snow, trying to escape from the Indians in New
Mexico.”
“Oh, what a pity!”
“I don’t know, my dears; he did his work, and God gave him rest,” was
the answer.
“It seems sad to die, though.”
“Not to every body, my children.”
“And Johnnie and Nellie, and Cora and Willie?”
“Johnnie is a dignified gentleman now, very rich, very honorable,
with a beautiful wife, and two pet children that call me Auntie. Cora
married a clergyman, and is in China, teaching the heathen: she is very
noble, very true, and full of zeal.
“Little Nellie grew to be a lovely woman, so very bright and happy that
it lightened one’s heart to look at her. She stepped as if treading on
air, and was full of music, playing and singing through life, with a
promise of joy in her future. Every body loved Nellie Bell, and admired
her as we do some beautiful, rare flower, thinking her about as fit as
a blossom to bear the ills and cares of life. And yet Nellie was the
heroine of the family, caring for her mother, who grew blind, with the
most beautiful tenderness, bearing the burden of her papa’s moroseness
and repinings, and putting away, with a sublime self-sacrifice, all
the fair and lovely dreams that must have filled her heart, to be the
comforter and helper of their old age.
“By and by, uncle Bell lost his property, and Nellie generously gave
up her own dowry, left by her grandmother, to support him—wearing a
plain dress, when she delighted in gay colors and soft fabrics; giving
up her books, her pony, her music, and doing many things with her own
dainty fingers, that they might not miss the servants, some of whom she
was obliged to dismiss.
“And her natural gayety softened into the loveliest, calmest content.
Her eyes grew deep and radiant, and her lips smiled always; her brow
was as smooth too as ever, and nothing could change the child look of
ingenuousness in her face.
“I think I have never seen anything so pure and sweet as her ways. She
seems living ever near to God, taking blessings from His hand, and when
He sends sorrow, smiling with the same patience; because both alike
come from her Father.
“A few years ago, there was a new joy in her life, and the cup was
dashed from her lip as she was about to drink it. A sudden death came
to one who was to have been her husband, death from home, when he was
not dreaming of it, and while she was even waiting and watching for him
day by day.
“She was waiting for the words, ‘He is here,’ and they told her, ‘He is
dead’—and the strange event threatened to put out the light and warmth
in her young heart for a time; but it brightened again, and she took
up her duties with patience, sweetness, peace, even happiness, because
God is good, and his presence in the world is beautiful, because a long
life teaches us much, and we must thank the Giver for it.”
“How very sad,” said the children.
“You would not call her sad, if you were to see her. She, I am sure,
would not have her lot changed.”
“And you and Willie?” suggested the children, after a pause.
“I am here, my dear,” continued Miss Lane with a little sigh, looking
thoughtfully out of the window. “You know all about me. My fate, I
suppose, was to tell you stories. I never saw my dear father again
alive. In the next spring, he sailed for home, he died on the sea, and
they buried him in the water. It was very hard to bear at first. To
this day, I have not recovered from the yearning for one more touch of
his hand, one more sound of his voice. It seemed as if I were dying of
hunger for a sight of his face once more, and I grew so pale and weak
that every body feared for my life. It seemed as if my soul’s food had
been taken away, and I pined for many months, till a good man, even
dear, gentle Willie, showed me my sin in grieving so much, and I tried
again to lift up my head.
“And when I finished my education, because there was other need greater
than mine, I gave up my little fortune, and took this work of teaching
upon myself. Willie is your Dr. Sprague.”
“Our Dr. Sprague! our Dr. Sprague your Willie! Hurrah! Papa, Dr.
Sprague is Miss Lane’s Willie!” cried the children, running to the door
as Mr. Graham appeared.
“Whose Willie am I?” said a voice, speaking from out the depths of a
great-coat, as another gentleman appeared behind their papa; and four
young forms were held tight in a strong pair of arms, as their turns
came.
“_Do_ you know Miss Lane?” inquired Lillie, when, tea being over and
some degree of quietness restored, she sat curiously watching the two
faces of her friends.
“Yes, a little,” answered the gentleman, nodding and smiling in a
wonderfully contented manner.
A moment after all were moved to mirth, as little Rosie said,
deliberately bringing out her words, as if she had come to the
conclusion after much study, and looking meditatively into Miss Lane’s
face:
“I think she likes him yet—Willie, I mean.”
On the next day, they learned that in the spring, Miss Lane would have
her own home and fireside, to which, she assured them, when their tears
fell at the thought of parting with her, they would ever be welcome.
Many new lessons were learned during those winter months, habits of
order were acquired, and self-control became no longer so difficult to
exercise.
Though Jennie did not become a _model_ of neatness and punctuality, she
did much in the way of improvement, and learned to subdue her temper,
though tried severely.
Lillie, too, and Frank found there was another ruler than their own
will, and made a good beginning in the straight, narrow way, before
Miss Lane departed, her dear face looking fairer and brighter than ever
to her ardent admirers, the young Grahams.
THE END.
Transcriber’s Note:
Punctuation has been standardized. Capitalization, spelling and
hyphenation have been retained as they appear in the original
publication, except as follows:
Page 31
and the first dim consciousnes of duty _changed to_
and the first dim consciousness of duty
Page 69
the eager sprites sur-surrounded _changed to_
the eager sprites surrounded
Page 118
The chlidren could scarcely _changed to_
The children could scarcely
Page 157
afterwards a horse came gallopping _changed to_
afterwards a horse came galloping
and at some distauce, under _changed to_
and at some distance, under