Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: SILVER LAKE SERIES.]
Silver Lake Series.
GOOD FOR EVIL;
OR,
ROSE COTTAGE.
[BY MADELINE LESLIE.]
"Not rendering evil for evil; or railing for railing;
but contrariwise blessing."—1 Peter 3:9.
BOSTON:
HENRY A. YOUNG & COMPANY,
NO. 24 CORNHILL.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
HENRY A. YOUNG & COMPANY.
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for
the District of Massachusetts.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. THE LAW STUDENTS
CHAPTER II. GOING HOME
CHAPTER III. THE RECEPTION
CHAPTER IV. TAKING TIME BY THE FORELOCK
CHAPTER V. IMPULSE VERSUS PRUDENCE
CHAPTER VI. NEWS FROM THE WEST
CHAPTER VII. BROKEN PROMISES
CHAPTER VIII. THOUGHTS AND REVELATIONS
CHAPTER IX. THE SURPRISE
CHAPTER X. THE NEW PROJECT
CHAPTER XI. JOYS AND SORROWS
CHAPTER XII. THE TINY ROSE BUD
CHAPTER XIII. UNAPPRECIATED
CHAPTER XIV. THE SEPARATION
CHAPTER XV. SALES OF THE ROCKS
CHAPTER XVI. THE TRAVELLERS
CHAPTER XVII. THE WINTER IN ROME
CHAPTER XVIII. THE EFFECTS OF CRIME
CHAPTER XIX. GOOD FOR EVIL
CHAPTER XX. SALVATION BY CHRIST
CHAPTER XXI. CONSCIENTIOUSNESS
CHAPTER XXII. FATHER AND SON
GOOD FOR EVIL.
CHAPTER I.
THE LAW STUDENTS.
THE day was sultry; the air, portending a shower. Groups of young men
were loitering about the steps of the different collegiate halls;
some glancing up to the sky; others gazing wishfully in the direction
of the river, where even at this distance a number of boats could be
distinguished, safely moored ready for the race of the morrow.
"Look at that cloud," murmured a young man about to graduate from the
law school. "We shall hear the thunder soon; or I'm mistaken. But if
you say so, Paul, we'll go as far as the great elm."
"Aye! aye! Wallingford. I shall feel better for the walk. If we are
caught in the rain, the wetting, on a day like this, will do us no
harm."
"There they go," exclaimed a youth, whom his companions called Cicero,
on account of his frequent quotations from that renowned orator.
"They're walking off together as usual. It would be a treat to see
Wallingford by himself for once."
"They're too Davidiac and Jonathanic for that," laughed another. "They
are both fine fellows; but I confess Wallingford is more to my taste
than Dudley; and I prophesy he'll make a greater mark in the world."
In the mean time the two friends sauntered slowly on through the
college grounds, keeping a careful survey of the advancing cloud, until
at length they reached the Post office where Dudley secured a couple of
letters.
"You're a lucky fellow, Paul," said his companion heartily.
"It's only from mother," was the careless rejoinder. "One of her
lengthy epistles about nothing. Even the girl's scribblings have more
interest."
"Don't speak so," murmured Wallingford. "If you were motherless, as I
am, you'd understand how such words hurt me."
"Pshaw, Ned! you know I love my mother. She isn't exactly the character
to inspire respect as you can well understand. Warm-hearted and
affectionate, ready to work herself to death to please one of my
foolish fancies; yet she is not all that one would want in a mother."
Ned Wallingford paused his face flushed with more than the heat, and
gazed reproachfully at his companion. "I would rather cut off my hand,"
he said at length, "than to speak so of a mother. Excuse me, Paul; but
the only fault I could see in yours, was that she was too anxious to
please you. She displayed devoted love."
"The natural consequence of being the only son in a family of five,"
Dudley answered with a light laugh. "Worship comes natural to me. I
shall exact a vast amount of homage from my wife."
"Not more than you will yield to her charms, I hope."
"It strikes me, we are starting a new subject," demurely answered Paul;
"and as I felt a drop of rain on my nose, I propose we adjourn to
number eighteen, North Hall, up one flight, before we proceed with the
interesting discussion of my wife's claims on my affection."
Three minutes of quick walking brought them inside the large hall just
as the windows of heaven were opened and the rain descended in torrents.
Wallingford having thrown off his wet, linen coat, seated himself at
the window and watched for a time the occasional flashes of lightning
illumining the dark clouds and followed by the rumbling of the distant
thunder; but his thoughts were not on the scene before him, sublime as
it was.
Memory was carrying him back some dozen years, to the hour when his
mother lay upon the bed of death. Her face was pale as the white robes
that surrounded her; but there was a holy light resting on every
feature, which had made such an impression on the boy's mind, that he
had never forgotten it. He knew as he stood by her side that she must
die;—that, the transparent hand closely clasping his would soon become
the food for worms;—that the voice now feebly lisping words of love
and counsel would soon be silenced for aye; but he could not weep. She
was so happy, rejoicing that she was soon to be in the presence of her
Saviour, and to join the husband and babes who had gone before her to
glory; her death seemed such a fitting end to a life like hers; humble,
active, trusting, that he felt it would be selfish to wish her to stay.
Again, he heard her dying voice; committing him and her little Gertrude
to the care of the Shepherd of Israel; again he saw her eyes, dim with
the film of dissolving nature, turn to his with the parting injunction,
"Edward I leave Gertrude to you as a sacred legacy, teach her to fear
God and keep his commandments, I shall expect to meet you both in
heaven."
"What in the world are you thinking of, Chum?" asked Paul in a gay
tone, tossing, as he spoke, his mother's letter on the table. "You've
sighed and sighed like a heart-broken maiden."
"I was thinking of my mother," was the serious reply. "Though she has
been dead a dozen years, she still exists in my mind as the embodyment
of every womanly virtue. If my sister lives to imitate her, I shall be
happier than I deserve to be."
Dudley arose from his seat, looking graver than he was wont, and
crossing the room to where his companion sat, he put his mother's
letter into Wallingford's hand, murmuring:
"You have made me ashamed of what I said."
He spoke earnestly, adding with a bright flush, "You're my good genius,
Chum, and have been for six years. You must read what mother says about
you. Even she, blind to my faults as her love makes her, admits that I
might be better if I would imitate my friend more closely. What I shall
do when you are not by, I can scarcely conceive."
Wallingford grasped the hand which had given him the letter, saying
earnestly:
"No mother could have a son more frank to confess an error. Now the
shower is over, shall we walk again?"
"Yes, I can spare half an hour."
My dear reader, I will improve the time of their absence by relating
briefly a history of the two friends I have introduced to your
acquaintance.
Paul Dudley, as the senior in age, must first be described. He was the
third child and only son of a merchant in Philadelphia. His mother
was the sole manager in the family; she averring that her husband
had his share of labor in earning the money which supported them. He
was engaged in a lucrative business which afforded his family every
comfort, and some of the luxuries of life. He was an honest; upright
man in the world's opinion, and in his own opinion; but though he took
no advantage of his neighbor's necessity, he defrauded his Maker, of
what was his due,— the first and best affections of his heart; and
beside this, he defrauded his own soul of the comfort and support of
religion.
Mrs. Dudley was a devoted mother. She was bound up in her family, for
whom she was willing to work early and late; denying herself many
luxuries, that her children might never feel the need of them. Two
daughters, girls of good sense and a fair education, were already
settled in homes of their own; the one just younger than Paul was
betrothed to her father's junior partner; and Anna, the youngest, was
still in school.
Though probably Mrs. Dudley would not have admitted the fact, it was
allowed by all the others, that Paul was her favorite. From his very
birth his sisters had been taught to yield their will and wishes to
his. As he grew older they were called to wait upon him; to humor his
whims; and in many ways involving self-denial and sacrifice, the whole
family proved to his young lordship that his pleasure was their first
consideration.
Of course under such training, it could not be expected that Paul would
be otherwise than selfish and domineering, claiming their service as a
right; petulant and irritable when his demands did not receive a due
amount of attention.
When he entered College he was thrown into the society of Edward
Wallingford; and admiring his abilities as a scholar, sought his
friendship. For six years they had roomed, studied, talked and walked
together. The ambition of Dudley's friend had stimulated his best
efforts, while the constant society of a noble, ingenuous mind had done
much toward counteracting for the time what was erroneous in his early
training.
Edward Wallingford was the son of a gentleman who had accompanied his
father from England at the age of ten years. They settled at length in
New York, where they established a large iron and steel business. The
younger Wallingford married soon after he attained his majority and
took his wife to his father's house, where they lived only two years
before the death of the Senior partner in the firm, produced a change
in the business. Six months later, the elder Mr. Wallingford died,
leaving his son his share in the iron works together with a few acres
of rocky land just outside of the city proper.
Edward, the subject of our story, was the second child and the only one
out of six children who lived to be seven years of age. Fearing, from
these repeated afflictions, that the air and confinement of a city were
the cause of the death of his loved ones, the father, in Edward's ninth
year, purchased a place on the Hudson river, and removed his family
there just before the birth of a tiny girl called Gertrude.
There amidst the picturesque scenery of that region, the children grew
apace until Ned had reached his twelfth and Gerty her third summer;
when a terrible affliction came upon them in the death of their father.
Mr. Wallingford had been greatly esteemed as a shrewd, successful
businessman; the papers in noticing his death, remarked that he was a
friend and supporter of all the benevolent enterprises of the day; but
only the wife and children of the deceased knew how his large heart
had beat in sympathy with every effort to advance the cause of the
Redeemer's kingdom. To them it appeared for a time as if the sun had
set in a total eclipse. Even after years had passed, and time had in a
degree allayed their grief, they mourned his loss as the most tender
husband, the most loving father, the most conscientious, humble and
earnest Christian, it had been their lot to know.
Three years Mrs. Wallingford survived him; and then she too was
called to her home in the skies. The summons was not a sudden one;
for months she had felt her health to be declining, and to her the
thought of being free from her body of sin and death was delightful.
The only struggle she felt in exchanging the scenes of time for those
of eternity, was when she thought of her children. But her faith in
the promises of a covenant-keeping God at length prevailed over every
doubt; she said to her faithful pastor:
"How can I shrink from leaving my dear ones with my heavenly Father,
when I know how he pities his afflicted children? and when I remember
how many earnest prayers for them are registered in heaven."
Soon after her death Edward was sent to school to prepare for college;
and it was only during his vacations that he had returned to Rose
Cottage, where Gertrude in the care of their faithful Hannah still
resided.