CALLED HOME.
THE sun rose over Fairleigh the next morning after the eventful picnic
with its own calm grandeur. There was no sign in its clear shining that
it had set the night before on such a scene of danger to the circle of
friends living at Shellford.
Nellie and Hope were seated at breakfast with old Mrs. Arundel, who was
anxiously questioning them once more as to whether they were tired, or
felt to have taken cold.
Nellie said she was quite as well as ever; but Hope, though she
made the best of herself, could not hide that she was miserable and
shivering.
"She was so long wet, you see, grandmamma; it is no wonder," said
Nellie.
"My dears, why did you not come and tell me what danger you had been
in, last night?"
"Dear grandmamma, we were dry then, and it was of no use giving you a
sleepless night."
"I feel as if I might have done something for you, my dears; but,
however, I thank God all are safe; I cannot be too thankful."
Before breakfast was over, Aunt Ruth entered, and begged to be told all
about it. She had heard from the servant a word of the accident, and
could not be satisfied till she knew all.
Her inquiries elicited that the young canoeist, who had saved so many
of them, was staying at a village a few miles off; and that Wilmot
would go over there to-day to call upon him and thank him.
"And how did they get off the rock?" asked Aunt Ruth, "I did not
understand."
"Wilmot brought the boat round for them after we had been rescued,"
said Hope.
"Was it a large rock?"
"Only just room for them to stand, and in deep water. How horrified
dear mother would have been, if she had been able to see little Mary
standing there."
"It is often well we cannot see," said Aunt Ruth.
"And how did you all get dry?"
"It was a long job," said Nellie. "Mrs. Mansbridge put us all to bed at
once. She had a roaring fire half up her chimney, and Mrs. Elliot and
she stood and turned our things till they were fit to put on."
"Then did you have tea in bed?"
"Yes, dear mamma brought it to us. She did look so tired and wan before
we all came down again."
"Your poor mother!" said Mrs. Arundel. "But how did you get home after
it all?"
"We were very tired," answered Hope; "but mamma and Mrs. Mansbridge
both said it would be really better for us to walk. Besides, we could
not have done anything else, as there was no conveyance to be had.
We all set out, and mamma drove. Fortunately there was a beautiful
moon, and mamma told us to waste no time, but to press on as fast
as we could. We walked along generally in a string across the road,
hand-in-hand. I can't tell you how it felt, Mrs. Arundel; we all seemed
so dear to each other, through having been companions in danger."
"I am sure you must," said Aunt Ruth. "How little we thought, as we
were quietly reading and watching the sunset, what was happening to you
all."
"I wish Hope would go to bed," said Nellie, as she saw her give another
violent shudder.
"Oh, no," said Hope; "but I will have a shawl."
Before long, however, she was obliged to give in, and felt bed would be
the best place for her.
Nellie went upstairs with her, and helped her to undress, and then made
her as comfortable as was possible. She fetched a hot bottle for her
feet, drew the blind partly down, and set some roses on a little table
by her side.
"What a dear girl you are!" said Hope, gratefully looking up at her.
"Where did you get those wild roses?"
"We picked them by moonlight last night."
"We? I did not see you picking any."
"No; you were in the carriage then; it was so lovely, Hope, just like
daylight, only better."
Hope drew her down and kissed her. "Nellie," she said, "I think I am
going to begin a new life from yesterday."
"Oh, dear Hope, how glad I am!"
"Yes; it was you first made me think about it. Aunt Ruth had often
urged me to make a decision; but somehow I thought there was plenty of
time, and that it was for older people. And then you came, and I found
that, though you were young, it was like the air you breathed, you
could not do without it! And then, Nellie, you asked me, that second
day you were here, if I were a Christian?"
"Yes," said Nellie, blushing; "but I was dreadfully afraid you would be
offended."
"That made me think more than ever; and when I began to know you, I
longed to be like you."
"Dear Hope, not like me; I wish I were more like Him."
"Oh, yes! But still, Nellie, the face of Moses shone, you know, as we
were reading this morning. You need not be ashamed, dear, but rejoice
that it is so."
Nellie's eyes filled with tears. How unworthy she felt of the blessing
which God had laid at her feet; and yet she had prayed that she might
be a help to Hope, and here was her prayer answered.
"I am going to sleep now," said Hope, "so do go down and talk to Mrs.
Arundel."
When Nellie re-entered the drawing room, her grandmamma and aunt sat in
their usual places in the bow window. She thought they looked a little
grave, but hardly noticed it. She carried her basket in her hand, and
seating herself on a low chair close to them, prepared herself for a
happy morning.
"How sweet it is," she could not help saying; then the idea of being
sweet here, suggested those at home, and she added, "Have you heard
to-day, grandmamma, from mamma?"
"I have heard from your father, dear."
Nellie looked up at the unusually quiet tone, and said quickly, "Are
they not all right, dear grandmamma?"
"He says your mamma is not very well, dear."
"Not anything serious?" said Nellie, her heart going down like lead.
"Your father speaks seriously, dear," answered Aunt Ruth. "He says that
he has been anxious about her for some time."
"Oh, auntie! And I never knew it."
"My dear, we cannot always know what will happen; your father could not
bear to make you unhappy unless it were needful."
"I would not have come away for worlds," said Nellie, weeping.
"That has made no real difference, darling. We might always be thinking
of difficulties in the future; and you will be strengthened to help by
your change."
"But do tell me," said Nellie, looking up with an anguish in her eyes
which was sad to see, "do you think—does papa think—that mamma is in
danger?"
"He says there always is danger in attacks of the heart."
"I had no idea she was delicate."
"Had you not, dear? Yet no; your father says he fears it will be a
great blow to you."
Nellie began to take in the gravity of the news; and her loving
relatives were powerless to aid her in the sorrow which she must feel.
"I may go home at once, may I not?" she asked earnestly.
"I am afraid it will be necessary, dear. Your father says he would like
you to come at once."
Nellie rose, as if bewildered for a moment with the unexpectedness of
the tidings, and stood with nervous fingers gathering her work together.
"My child," said Aunt Ruth, putting her kind arms round her shoulders,
"this is a heavy trial; but we must all ask for strength to bear it,
and for her precious life to be spared if possible."
"Is it so bad as that?" Nellie said once more; and then she left the
room as if stunned.
She went upstairs and began to collect her things together, while Aunt
Ruth followed, and gently helped her, saying nothing, however.
"When is the train?" asked Nellie, looking up once, as if only just
awakened from a dream.
"At 12 o'clock; there is no hurry, and the pony carriage is ordered."
"Thank you," she answered mechanically.
"I have sent down to Maude Elliot to be kind enough to see you safely
off, dear."
"Oh, thank you," said Nellie. And when she had placed the last few
things in the box, the maid came to put on the cord.
"Would you like to walk down and say good-bye to Mrs. Elliot, dear?"
asked Aunt Ruth. "She has been very kind to you?"
"Very kind," answered Nellie; "and if there is time—"
"Abundance of time; it is only eleven o'clock now. You need not return
here, the pony carriage shall call for you at half-past eleven."
Before she went downstairs, Nellie softly entered Hope's room.
"Going out?" said Hope sleepily; then opening her eyes, "Why, Nellie,
you look sad, dear; what is it?"
"I can't explain," she answered hurriedly; "mamma is ill, and I am
going home."
Hope took her hand, but beyond an exclamation of dismay, knew not what
to say.
"I could not bear to go without thanking you for all your kindness; but
I'm afraid I have disturbed you."
"Not at all; but, Nellie, don't you mention kindness, for you know it
has been all on your side. I shall never forget you."
Nellie kissed her, and was already at the door, when suddenly she came
to the bedside again, and said hesitatingly, "Could you spare me one or
two of these wild rosebuds to take home?"
"Certainly; but take some nice flowers out of the garden, Nellie. Pick
some before you go; these are worth nothing to those."
"I would like these best," she said, "as a remembrance of yesterday."
She placed two or three in her little travelling-basket, and with one
more good-bye, hurriedly left the room.
Mrs. Arundel and Aunt Ruth stood waiting for her in the drawing room,
and she was clasped in her grandmamma's arms.
"My dear child," she said, "my dear child, I have enjoyed having you;
we shall think of you, and pray for you constantly. Good-bye."
"I can't half thank you," said Nellie, brokenly; "but I have had such a
nice time. Dear Aunt Ruth, I wanted to say lots of things to you."
"Yes, darling; but we must bow to our Father's will."
So she left them, and as she hastened down the hill to Mrs. Elliot's,
she felt as if all the springs of her life were dried up.
She turned in at the gate, and almost ran against Maude and Wilmot, who
were coming out to take her to the station.
They needed no explanations, as they already knew the bad news that
morning's post had brought.
Wilmot silently shook hands, and Maude kissed her warmly.
"It is a sad good-bye," said Nellie, trying to speak calmly, as she met
Mrs. Elliot, "and you must forgive me for not saying all I would wish;
but I do thank you all for—for making me so welcome."
Mrs. Elliot assured her it had given them much pleasure to know her;
and then Nellie went over to the sofa where Alice lay, looking pale and
suffering.
"Is it very bad?" she asked kindly.
"Oh, I feel so wretched, Miss Arundel."
"Poor child, I know you must; but," she whispered, "be patient; it
helps us to think that Jesus knows all our sorrows and sufferings,
doesn't it?"
"Even my bad foot?" asked Alice, looking up.
"Even that. Don't forget, dear."
Alice nodded, and in another moment the carriage was there, and Nellie
was gone.
The three driving together did not say many words. Their thoughts would
have been hard to interpret.
When they were walking up and down the station waiting for the train,
Wilmot said to Nellie:
"I should like to think this is not a parting, Miss Arundel. May I, do
you think, come and call upon you when I return to town?"
"I have no doubt papa would be pleased, if dear mamma is well enough,"
answered Nellie, hardly knowing what she ought to say.
"I shall come then. One does not make friends to lose them directly;
and I hope we have become friends?"
He looked in her face, so pale and sorrowful; and then he remembered
the face he had looked upon in the water yesterday.
Nellie remembered too, and a faint colour overspread her features.
"You saved my life," she said gently and gravely; "I can never forget
that."
"Nor I," he answered; and both were silent.
"Here's the train," said Maude.
"Good-bye," said Wilmot, taking her hand.
"Good-bye," said Nellie, "good-bye, dear Maude."
When she seated herself in the train, she found herself alone, and
could indulge in the luxury of being able to weep unseen. By-and-by,
patience and trust reasserted themselves, and she checked her bitter
tears, remembering that she would be unfit to help them at home if she
arrived with a headache.
Then she thought all at once that she had not had opportunity to get
any little presents for them, as she had intended, and she could not
help having a good cry over this, before she finally put away her tears
and determined to be peaceful.
"He will help me," she thought sorrowfully; "and He will help us all to
bear His will. But, oh, mamma, mamma! How could I have left you?"
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