Every day
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] EVERY DAY. Pl ke, E e +8ty^&e i tA) 2 Q (' BY THE AUTHOR OF s ]lJUlstUIA MOBES," W "SrwUViqG AND GAININO," MO "O what a glory doth this world put on For him, who, withi a fervent heart, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent " "ONGFELLOW. BOSTON: NOTES, HOLMES, AND COMPANY, "7 WASHNGTON STREET. 1871. page: 0 (Table of Contents) [View Page 0 (Table of Contents) ] Intered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by NOTES, HOLMES, AND COMPANY, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. RIVEBSIDE, AMBBIRDOE: STEREOTYZD AND PRINTED BT HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 'n go CONTENTS. CHAPTER L "OOKING BACK ....... . CHAPTER II. XSARVrTT A AND MARGARET .. .. . 10 CHAPTER H. DR. JOHN'S WATCHWORD . . 18 CHAPTER IV. WANTED - AN IDEA . .80 CHAPTER V. AN IDEA CARRIED OUT 87 CHAPTER VI. FORESHADOWING . . . CHAPTER VII. TARLATAN VERSUS SILK ... . - 6 CHAPTER VIII. ISABELLAS JOURNAL . .. 80 ' ' 80 CHAPTER }2X. MARGARIET'S JOURNAL . .87 * i \.. i, , page: iv (Table of Contents) -v (Table of Contents) [View Page iv (Table of Contents) -v (Table of Contents) ] iv CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. ISASRT T,A'S JOURNAL CONTINUED . . . . . .98 CHAPTER XIL TBH GREAT THNG TO DO . Ill CHAPTER XII. FIRST bJUlrS s ....... 121 CHAPTER XIIL THE "LMTTLE BITS," DARK AND BRIGHT . . . . . 138 CHAPTER XIV. SUm-KISES . . . . . . X .. . . 145 CHAPTER- XV. THS PICTURE AND THAT 155 CHAPTER XVI. GOOD NEWS . . . * . . . * 166 CHAPTER XVII. MOTHER AND SON .......... 176 CHAPTER XIV11. BETSY IN A NEW CHARACTER . . . 183 CHAPTER XIX. AN HOUR OF RiCKONING . .. *196 CHAPTER XX. WEARY HOURS . . . * * * * * .209 CHAPTER XXI. WHAT THE WORLD SAID . 218 CONTENTS. v CHAPTER XXII. PAGE ANOTHER CRISIS ..... 226 CHAPTER XXIII. MOTES AND BEAMS . . . . . . . . 28 CHAPTER XXI V. CROSS PURPOSES . . * . . . 240 CHAPTER XXV. FOUR YEARS LATER . . . CHAPTER XXVI. A REUNION . . . . 26 CHAPTER XXVII. B. SELFORD . * * . . . . , 7 ^'N, 8 page: vi-1[View Page vi-1] EVERY DAY. CH APTER I. "OOKING BACK. "So here you are at last, in your own nursery, with baby in your arms, looking as much at home as if you had, always lived here. I can't realize that yoai have really left old Poky town, and that we are actually settled side by side, where we can always compare experience and babies. I thought you meant to vegetate all your 'life in the country, dividing your time between Dr. John's baby and Dr. John's patients. "When George came home a month ago and said he- had received a letter from 'your husband, asking him to look out a house for him in a pleasant and central situation, I thought at first it was all a joke made up at my expense, because I am always quot- ing you and John. And what good luck it was, Lizzie, that Mr. Evarts wanted to sell his house, so that we could live next-door neighbors to each other I " "It was such good news to me, Esther, that I page: 2-3[View Page 2-3] 2 EVERY DAY. felt it was something more than ' good luck.' But take off baby's wraps, and make yourself quite at home here at once. I hope you'll decide upon a name for her soon. I don't like Baby." c(I don't call her Baby, but every name that signifies the most rare, the most beautiful, the most precious thing upon earth," said Mrs. Gardner, hugging her child so closely, as she spoke, that the little one gave a decided wail of disapproval. "But other people can't do the same, and if you mean to leave her without a name till she can choose one for herself, it will be slightly awkward for your friends." "Call her Violet, then, for her beautiful blue eyes. And your darling, I suppose her name is to be Mar- garet, as you intended?" "Yes," said Mrs. Lee, looking fondly down upon the little three months' daughter who lay rosy and smiling in her mother's arms, just awakened from her morning's nap; "I could call her for no one else but the mother I never knew, but whom I have always been taught to reverence and love. I hope, with the name, she will inherit some of the virtues and graces of her grandmother's character.'? "Never fear for that; they will be grafted in, if not inherited," said the lively Esther, " if you have the care of her education. A most suitable name, too, for her. Only I pity the poor little creature. "OOKING BACK. 3 Come, brown eyes, and look at your auntie, and she'll tell your hard fortune. You've got to be, all your life, a perfect pink or rather daisy of propriety, to be attentive to all papa's snuffy, disagreeable old patients, sit up in the parlor and play good girl to all mamma's stupid visitors, sew and study at Set times, and occasionally play a little in a quilled, daisy-like fashion; no mud pies, no torn frocks, no hoyden games for you, poor little unconscious victim that you are! Don't smile at that deceitful mamma of yours. She's an ogre in disguise, or the same as an ogre,- a woman with a theory." "Thank you, Esther, for the flattering picture you have drawn of my baby's future. Perhaps you will answer those asking blue eyes, and tell Violet's fortune." "As for my darling of darlings, she's going to have all the good times going that her mother didn't have when she was a child and lived way down in Poky town with her step-mother, - a whole flight of steps she was too, instead- of one remove from a real mother. All that's soft and lovely to wear my baby shall have; all that's gay and bright in life shall be her portion; all that her mother can do to make life fair and sweet shall be done for my treasure. She shall be as free as I was 'cabined, cribbed, con- fined;' as indulged as I was restricted; asloved as I was repressed. She shall have good times, not * . page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] 4 EVERY DAY. once in a while, by stealth, but always and every day. That's my idea of living.- Now for your theory." "I have no theory, Esther, unless you call it such to intend to do my very best for my child in every possible way; to try and make her happy, not by excessive indulgence, but by carefully develop- ing the nature God has given her. I hope she will be truthful, obedient, and loving, and I hope she will have a good time too, 'every day,' precious pearl that she is." There was a moment's pause, during which Es- ther's thoughts were busy picturing the bright future of her child, while Lizzie sent up a silent prayer that wisdom might be granted her to train aright the treasure intrusted to her care and guidance, that she might always remember that here was- "Another little wave Upon the sea of life; Another soul to save Amid its toil and strife." "Another thing I'm resolved upon," said Esther, "or series of things, I ought to say: baby shall never sew over-seams, or wear sea-green ribbons; and she shall have pretty clothes, and go to parties when she ought to do so." "That means when she wishes to go." "Pretty much; certainly, if her wishes are as / "OOKING BACK. .5 mnocent as mine were upon that never-forgotten, never-forgiven occasion, when you appeared at Mrs. Wrentham's sociable dressed in white muslin and a rose-colored sash, while I was kept at home because I was guilty of being only sixteen, too young to go to a neighbor's and friend's to pass a pleasant even- ing, but not too young to sew- sew over-seams till I wished sheets had never formed a part of civilized furnishings. I assure you all my sheets are seam- less.* Then how hard I begged for ruffled drawers for my best, sure for once of gaining my point be- cause you had them. No, it was ' frippery.'" "I remember that severe trial of your youth," said Lizzie, laughing, " but I don't recall the special cause of your objection to sea-green ribbon." "Don't you, Mrs. John Lee? Perhaps you would if you had been the wearer of a scanty measure of that article upon a straw bonnet, when your friend had. a lovely blue wreath upon hers. I dare say you think all these-things very trifling, but they were not so to me, for they are only samples of the whole tenor of my early life. I couldn't be virtuous enough to prefer sewing to parties, dinginess to beauty, crust to cake, and so one and hence my whole life, till George, dear fellow, appeared, was one protracted cross, or succession of crosses. But for him my heart would have been a petrifaction." "You cannot accuse your mother of partiality. , , page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 . EVERY DAY. She was as indulgent to you as to her own chil dren.", "Does that make it any better? I am not alto- gether selfish. I find it hard to forgive her, softened as my feelings are by George and baby, for her harshness to her son, - a harshness that drove him from her to die; though I never did and never will believe that he is dead, in spite of the returned clothes and the seaman's letter. I do her the jus- tice now to believe she thought she was doing right. One thing, she always was good to my father, and that covers a multitude of sins in my eyes; but I sha'n't bring up my darling after her style. So I end as I began. No harsh rule for my baby. And you needn't prose to me about the injurious effects of excessive indulgence, etc. I have it all by rote, just what you would say, and again I repeat, my treasure shall have all the joy life can bestow. My baby, who is to us ' Wealth for which we know no measure, Pleasure high above all pleasure, e Gladness brimming over gladness, Joy in care, delight in sadness, Loveliness beyond completeness, Sweetness distancing all sweetness, Beauty all that beauty may be, that's my baby.' "And so we make our adieux, waiting not for counsel which would be worse than wasted upon Violet or Violet's manmma."' "OOKING BA CK. 7 A whole volume of the story of the early lives of these young mothers has been told in the half-hour's chat between them in Mrs. Lee's nursery; but many volumes Would not contain the ever-widening re- sults in th future, proceeding firom the influences which moulded their characters at that impressible period. Esther Halford and Lizzie Gorham were born and brought up in the pleasant country town of Maple- wood, and had known and loved each other from infancy. Both lost their mothers at an early age ; but Esther would recall a tender, loving face, and remember the words, 1"My precious darling," whilst Lizzie's mother had died at her birth, and all knowl- edge of her had been gained from her father and her second mother, who proved truly such to her. Mr. Halford was the village minister: a man so absorbed in his books that nothing less than a do- mestic volcano would have aroused his attention; and there were no volcanoes under the second Mrs. Hal- ford's rule--at least there was but one, in which her son, Harvey Ferris, was the explosive power; and after that had subsided, and he ran away to sea, everything went on quietly, and, as Mr. Halford sup- posed, rightly. Mrs. Ferris had been recommended to him as a suitable mother for his wild young daugh- ter, and the result of her becoming Mrs. Halford was highly satisfactory to him in the improved order and / page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 EVERY DAY. comfort of his establishment, and the more quiet demeanor of his child. Sometimes the thought passed liis mind that Esther looked gloomy and sulky; but when within his study the subject was forgotten, and Esther never complained to him but once, and that was when the tidings came that Har- vey had sickened and died in a foreign port. He found her lying on the floor of his study, sobbing as if her heart would break. "My child, this is rebellion against God's will." "It isn't God's will, it's hers, his mother's; she treated him so he couldn't stay at home. O father, I don't believe he's dead; but he never'll come back to us, and I loved him just like an own brother." "Esther, Esther, what are you saying? Your mother, who does so much for us all - she treat him badly! My dear, he was a very passionate boy, and very headstrong, and he did what such boys often do.-" "I know he was passionate, but he wasn't ugly. John Lee said he was a noble-hearted boy as ever lived, and John loved him so that the other boys called them Damon and Pythias. John wouldn't care for a bad boy; he couldn't." "I don't know about that," said Mr. Halford, looking perplexed, " but one thing I do know, child, and that is, that your mother's trouble is far greater than yours, and that you must not again speak- of her in the way y6u have done." L OKIV G BACK. 9 "That I won't, if she kills me," was the bitter thought; to her father she said, "May I go and. see Lizzie?" "I think not, now, dear; your mother may need you." "No one needs me now Harvey is away," she muttered; and thenceforth she never again tried to gain her father's sympathy; and, but for the love of George Gardner and Lizzie's friendship, her life would indeed have been desolate. Lizzie's father, Mr. Gorham, was a lawyer by profession, but spent more of his time upon his farm than in his law office. He was a kind, genial man, and his wife was one of those rare characters, so true and so kindly, that no one could find fault with her even as a step-mother. In the freedom of this happy home Lizzie had grown up loving with an equal love her father and mother, and proving a kind elder sister to the little ones. The two girls were married within a week of each other, - Esther to George Gardner, Lizze to John Lee. Mr. Gardner took his bride at once to the flourishing town of Rockville, near a large city; and in, little more than a year Dr. Lee removed there also, and the two friends were established side by side. page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] CHAPTER II. ISABELLA AND MARGARET. NEARLY sixteen years have passed since the proud and happy young mothers proclaimed their "policy " with regard to the training of their infant daughters in Mrs. Lee's nursery, - years, some of them, filled to overflowing with events which con- vulsed a portion, and influenced the whole, of the civilized world; years in which gray-haired fathers and mothers, loving wives and affectionate sisters, gave the costly offering of their nearest and dearest in behalf of truth and liberty; years in which it would seem that the dullest and oldest hearts must have been galvanized into something like real liv- ing, through the influence of grand deeds and glo- rious deaths. In this wonderful period of time, the Violet and Daisy of our story have passed from infancy to the border-land of womanhood, - to that age sung by poets, and watched over with tender care and proud hopes by parents and guardians; Violet and Daisy no longer, however, except as home appellations of affection, or to each other. ISABELLA -AND MARGARET. " When Violet was six years old, her mother, who considered her competent to decide far weightier questions than the choice of a 'name, subjected the matter to her decision. Her reply was character- istic. "I like the name of Isabella best of all, mamma. It sounds so grand and royal, and I want to be called by it, and not ' Belle' or ' Isa,' just like a little child." Isabella it was, then and thereafter; and Daisy expressed the wish that she might have " a real true name, like Labella," which was the -nearest approach she could make to pronouncing the word, which came full and resonant from the lips of her elder by ten days. But then Daisy was a little child, rejocing in mud-pies and dolls, notwithstand- ing Mrs. Gardner's early prophecy. And Isabella was - I hardly know what to call the present race of beings, who seem to have left off their childhood with their baby-clothes. Whatever they may witlh propriety be called, Isabella belonged to "that ilk." At the commencement of our story the friends had begun life on pretty equal terms; Mr. Gard- ner being a promising young architect, and Dr. Lee with every reasonable prospect of success in his profession. But sixteen years had changed their conditions. Mr. Gardner had devoted him- A ( page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 EVERY DAY. self wholly to his profession, had prospered in it, and had also inherited a handsome fortune from an uncle, who had been a contractor to furnish army supplies during the war. Dr. Lee, with the full approval of his wife, had given up a good and increasing practice to serve, two years as a surgeon in the hour of his country's need. He had returned home rich in the blessings and gratitude of maiy hearts,- but with enfeebled- health, and was at this time able to attend only to a moderate practice, and in receipt of a moderate income. Mr. Gardner's plain two-story house had been enlarged and re-roofed, and otherwise so changed that it bore no resemblance to its twin neighbor occupied by Dr. Lee. The alterations had been made with special reference to Isabella's present wants and possible future desires. She was an only child; and Mrs. Gardner had been true to her. determination with regard to her early education, and rejoiced that she could now fully carry out her wishes for her darling. Indeed, she had always done so as far as possible. No matter where, in the earlier days, the pinch of small means came, it never touched this idolized child. Her raiment was always soft, her food always dainty, her pleas- ures always abounding; and, when riches came, they were welcomed more for her sake than for ISABELLA AND MARGARET. 18 any other reason. Her mother looked forward with delight to a future as fair for her darling as even her fond wishes could ask. She did not see the little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, that might, before long, overshadow the sun now shin- ' ing so brightly upon them; for, if men do not gather grapes from thorns nor figs from thistles, neither do parents, who, by unlimited indulgence, sow the seeds of selfishness and self-will, reap a har- vest of thoughtful consideration and ready obedi- ence. Yet Isabella was not spoiled, in .the usual meaning of that word. It takes more than the in- judicious fondness'of the weakest mother to spoil one of God's children, inheritor of his nature and sharer in his love. At present, the willfulness of the sunny-tempered girl only added, in her mother's eyes, another charm to her character. To the fu- - tume she did not look in reference to inevitable trials and disappointments, and so could not realize how false she had been to her sacred trust in not teach- ing her child how best to meet and- bear such, by early habits of submission and obedience. And now, in this -spring-time of her life, with little occa- sion to manifest any but the bright side of her char- acter, Isabella was really a most charming young girl, whose appearance was as prepossessing as her lot was fortunate. She was tall and well formed; had tolerably regular and very expressive-features; page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " EEVERY DAY. eyes of that deep blue as rare as it is beautiful, the color of which had suggested her baby name to her mother; beautiful wavy hair, just shading upon auburn, which contrasted well with her clear, fair skin. Perfectly self-possessed in manner, of a lively disposition, dressed always in the most becoming style of the latest fashions, she is before my young fiends, claiming her share of interest in the pages which follow. Margaret Lee was shorter and slighter in figure than Isabella; and, with the exception of her hair being of a dark-chestnut hue, you might almost find her picture in Longfellow's beautiful poem of ' Maidenhood," at least in her quiet, reflective moods. There were times when the natives buoy- ancy of her temperament shone out of her eyes in mirthful sparkles, and she was no longer the- "Maiden! with the meek brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies, Like the dusk in evening skies." The shadow, when there, did not indicate sad- ness, but a reflective turn of mind, easily traceable to the circumstances of her early education; for Margaret had not only been favored with the ten- der but firm discipline of judicious parents, - who, in educatingtheir children, looked not only to their present good and happiness, but onward to the never-ending future, -but, young as she was, life, ISABELLA AND MARGARET. 15 too, had brought its discipline to her. She was the eldest of four children; and, in her father's absence from home, during a long though not dangerous sickness of her mother, the care of baby Alice, her little blue-eyed, golden-haired sister, had fallen largely upon her. And afterwards, when her fa- ther, worn out with his unceasing care of the men under his charge, - and that care included healing the mind diseased, as well as the suffering body, - was prostrated with a slow fever, and her mother left home to nurse him, she did her best to amuse and restrain George, whose great activity of tem- perament, and strong sense of his prerogatives as belonging to the manly sex, made it no sinecure to hold a guiding hand over him. And now, just at the period when the sense of life and its enjoyments are the keenest, -when, too, the sensitiveness nat- ural to that age makes the desire strong to do and have what others do and have, - there was the necessity upon her to deny herself all superfluities in dress or amusements. This she did, for the most part, willingly and cheerfully: but there were sea- sons when her own limitations and Isabella's indul- gences- came before -her in full force; and she would wonder, as older and wiser persons some- times allow themselves to do, Why this contrast? why heaps upon heaps of all manner of lovely and beautiful things to one? why so little to others, page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 EVERY DAY. who, like herself, so admired everything beautie ful and tasteful, everything fresh and bright and young? In the same mind, she would contrast the elegance of Isabella's home with the simple neatness of her own, - so simple that nothing but well-preserved furniture and carefully repaired, carpets kept it from shabbiness; Isabella's bed and dressing rooms; her study and once play-room within, and arbor and summer-house without; and her own little attic room, shared with Alice, whom she loved dearly, but still who sometimes was a little teasing and troublesome. But, even in this frame of mind, she could not but admit that their rooms, with their few choice pictures and engrav- mgs,-of priceless value because the gift of friends, -their many books, and little, tasteful articles of home-make, had an air of comfort and honeness not to be found in the new and elegant drawing-room at Mrs. Gardner's. And then Isabella had no little sister! Better a thousand times all the interrup- tions and hindrances from her than not to have that priceless mine of wealth-a little, confiding child's love--at all! And then her father! - was it not because her father was so good and true, so self-denying, so truly Christian according to his own explanation of the word, so Christ-like in his spirit, that they were poor where others abounded? Wasn't it riches enough to have such a father, whom every one loved and respected? ISABELLA AND MARGARET. 17. One of her friends had never known a father's love, - had not even a remembrance of one. An- r other had lost hers just as she was learning the value of that affection which, in its purity and per- fection, God has given as a type of his love for us all; there was another whose interest in her father extended but little beyond his readiness to provide for her many wants and pay her bills; and still another-O, saddest of all!-whose father was a shame and terror to her, who preferred the base indulgence of a perverted appetite to the love and respect of his children. But her father! -Margaret could not explain her feelings towards him. It was love, admiration, reverence, and enthusiasm combined. In his pres- ence, with the light of his smile upon her, or when some anxiety cast its shadow upon his usually se- rene- face-,all her little trials and annoyances as- sumed their just proportions, and she thought only how she could best minister to his comfort and hap- piness. Even the aggravation of the little stabs and darts of some of her school-fellows, aimed at some deficiency of herself or others in what ap- peared to them the necessities: of life, ceased to annoy her; and she longed for greater power to ,aid him, and reproached herself for ever bestowing a thought upon that which at be st could only give a passing gratification. page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] CICHAPTER III DR. JOHN S WATCHWORD. DR. JOHN came home one afternoon after a round of visits looking weary, and, Mrs. Lee thought, anx- ious also. It was near'the hour for tea, and all the family were in the pleasant south room overlooking the garden, while Betsy, the privileged friend and servant, was passing in and out busy in preparations for the evening meal. In answer to his wife's inquiring look, Dr. Lee said: 1' Only the money question, dear, a larger bill to pay than I expected, and a man who owed me more than its amount has run off. That's not the worst either. This man owed me quite a sum of money, which I lent him after his return from the war. That debt I forgave him some time ago. This is a bill for professional services at half charges too. It all comes from living beyond his means. His wife and children must live and dress as others do, not that I blame them any more than I do him. I dare say he kept his business affairs a secret from his wife, and I dare say, too, he liked to have them make a good appearance, as he called it. I would DR. JOHN'S WATCHWORD. 19 rather my wife and children lived on potatoes and milk, and dressed in tow cloth, than owe any man anything but love." "Well, never mind ' said Ms. Lee e rly "She shall manage, - Betsy & Co., that's Mar- garet and myself,--to save some way, to pay this bill, and we're better off than this poor man who has defrauded you." "Poor, yes - a poor-spirited fellow enough, to be willing to live at the expense of others. I'm not half as anxious about the money I owe, for I am sure we shall find some way of paying it, as I am disturbed at the laxness of men, in money affairs. It all comes of the high-pressure style of living- no, not all, for there must be a sad want of princi- ple somewhere in the community, or there would be more sturdy independence of character, more will- ingness to be just what one is, and to live as one can afford to live. For ourselves, -- ' Day by day the manna fell. "' Day day," the promise reads, Daily strength for daily needs; Cast foreboding fears away, Take the manna of to-day.' "For the future, we have our boys to look to in our old age, and I am sure Margaret is already worthy to be one of the firm ' Betsy & Co.' " "Iss," said Harvey, a sturdy urchin of four sum- page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 EVERY DAY. mers, whose highest delight was to don a soldier's cap and beat his toy drum. "Harvey'll rubadub for papa, and peoples'll give the pennies." "For shame T " said Alice, speaking from the supe- rior wisdom of six years; " that's begging. I shall be a teacheress and help papa, and George is going to be a Japan man and get ever so richer." 'aYes," said George, "I shall be a merchant and help you all, though I'm not quite sure whether I shall go to China or Japan." Margaret said nothing, but there was a volume of love in the eyes which sought her father's, as she stood beside him and softly stroked the wavy hair, once dark, but now fast whitening with ill health and overwork. 4' Well, my children, and children's mother, if I need it I will gladly accept all the help you can render. For the present, little ones, shall I give you a watchword to help you in the great work you hope to do by and by?" "Iss" and " please " from Harvey and Alice, who did not quite know what a watchword was. "Every day," said Dr. John. "What doesp it mean?" asked Alice wonder- ingly. "It means, my dears, that if you wish to be good and useful ih the future, you must begin to be good and useful now, every day that you live. As day DR. JOHN'S WATCHWORD. 21 by day the manna fell, as day by day God's love and bounty is poured upon us, so day by day we are to do our appointed work, be it great or small, pleasant or disagreeable; never once thinking we can omit it, and make up for the deficiency by doing some great thing or things by and by. Har- vey, my boy, how did you make your snow man last winter?" "Harvey didn't make him, he did," pointing to George. "But you made the pedestal-- I mean thefplace for him to stand upon?" "That I did. I took my 'ittle shovel, and I car- ried ever and ever and ever so many fulls of it, and piled 'em up and up as high as ever I could 'each, and he pounded it ever so harder, he did." "WC, my boy, yotumade the beginning of a snow man, don't you see, by ever and ever so many shovels of snow? So by ever and ever so many little things every day, you can make a beginning of a real live man, and woman too," he added, looking down into the beseeching, upturned, blue eyes of Alice. "It wasn't all easy work, making that be- ginning; the little fingers ached, the little ears tingled, and the little boy panted, and once he al- most cried -but he didn't. He swallowed down the rising sob, and went to work again, and made a grand foundation for a snow man. I know he'll page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 EVERY DAY. work harder still to make the real one, now he knows how it is to be done." "Did Daisy and George do so, papa?" asked Alice. "Yes, dear, they have kept papa's favoritf motto well in mind. It has helped them as it helped me when I was studying Greek." ' What's that, -a river?" asked Harvey, "Not quite," said papa; and Alice, i' It's a book, goosie ;" and George said, "It's a language, goosie second -but, father, tell us about it." "I was deficient always in Greek, and my pro- fessor, a good friend too, said to me one day, 'Do you want to know, Lee, how you can get rid of this trouble of yours?' "' Yes, sir.' ' Make it a rule to study faithfully so many lines every day, no matter what happens, unless you are sick.' "I said I would try to do so, though I was very incredulous as to my ability to find the time for it. I did find time for that, and it helped me find time for many other things by showing how much would be accomplished in a few moments every day. It has helped me so far through my life, and it will help me in the eternal ages beyond this life." "Why, papa, do peoples work in heaven?". asked Alice. DR. JOHN'S WATCHWORD. 23 "I do not expect to be idle in heaven, miy child, I enjoy work so much, I cannot conceive of a heaven of idleness. You know ,who said, 'My Father worketh hitherto, and I work.' Yes, dar- ling, the cross of enforced idleness which my infirm health obliges me to bear, I hope to drop with this worn and enfeebled frame. "It is not work that is a hardship here; on the contrary, it is the use of all our faculties; both of mind and body, that gives us our truest satisfaction. In that heaven to-which we all look with longing hearts, when I can serve my Heavenly Father with the strength of a glorified spirit, then, and not till then, shall I fully know what a help to me is this habit of 'every day' doing the work that lies ready to my hand. It is a fearful thought, my children, that eternity will reveal to us the evils that arise from neglected days! From lives filled with such days, how terrible the accumulated responsibility! "Do not think any neglected duty a trifle, or any performed duty a trifle. "'A little pen may write a word By which a nation may be stirred: A little counsel, rightly given, May lift a sinful soul to heaven. "Little vices many times Out-Herod felonies and crimes; And little virtues in the sum Great excellences do become.' page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 EVERY DAY. "Am I launching into unknown seas to these lit- tle ones? The present is their seed-time, and these thoughts are the hard kernels that must long lie hidden away before showing even a tiny tender blade of thought. Some day Alice surely, or I read these questioning blue eyes wrongly, and perhaps Harvey too, will remember and understand what I have said." "Father," said George, who, like most boys of his age, liked personal experiences better than se- rious talk, and who was never very particular about rushing from one subject to another without a shadow of connecting link between them, " please tell us why all the soldiers called you Dr. John in- stead of Dr. Lee? Nobody calls Dr. Harris, Dr. Benjamin." "I hardly know," said his father, with one of those rare smiles which explained why he reminded to many of his friends of the apostle whom Jesus loved. 'c Partly, perhaps, because Larry Flynn, who made himself a sort of body servant to me, never would call me anything else. He said one day, ' Sure an' if ye don't objict, I'll jist call ye Doc- ! her John, me own father's name, barring the head to it; an' sure ye've been jist like a father to me since I left Bridget and me babbies.' Partly, too, I think, because it brought me nearer to the poor fel- lows; I stood in the place to them, for the time, of DR. JOHy'S WATCHWORD. 2E their absent dear ones. It was a great privilege, and atoned for many a hardship, to receive so many sacred confidences as I did from them, and often their last messages of love or repentance to those whom they would never see again in this world. How tender and gentle in their words and ways the roughest and worst of them all would be at times I Yes, they really loved me, poor, poor boys I not poor because they gave their lives to their country, but 3 poor, many of them, because they had squandered their time and opportunities when they were theirs. to control!" "Larry told me," said George, " that there was niver a docther in the woorld the likes of Dr. John." "I dare say he thinks so. I cured hint of a fever long before we went to the war, and then I did the best I could for him when he lost his leg." "Small loss to the world if more of 'em had lost their bodies as well as their legs," grumbled Betsy, who just then appeared at the door, and whose de- lant quills were always aroused at the mention of an Irishman. "Margaret, air you comin' to beat up that batter for them cakes? That's the good of young cooks; have to run after 'em, wait upon 'em, and then ten chances to one they spile whatever they touch." " But, Betsy, you were young once, weren't you? And you had to learn how to do things." page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 EVERY DAY. "Most likely I was, -never hearn I was born an old woman, - but I was young in good old times: that makes the difference. There, now, you're slop- pin' them eggs. O deary me! I wish you could have seen your grandma when she was young. She'd just step into the kitchen with her pretty white dress on, put on a big apron, and toss up a cake or puddin' while some folks'd be screeching 'Betsy, where's the butteN, an' the eggs, and this, that, and t'other' till you're just ready for fits. She was a lady, too, every inch of her, -a lady that had her lovers in plenty, though she never ogled and bridled or minced and pattered as the girls do nowa- days. All the fault they could find with her was, that she was too cold and stately. I was a mite of a girl when she was grown up; but I remember hear- ing General Buckthorn, who was forever hangin' round your great-grandpa's, swear one day, as he got onto his horse, that though he liked ice once in a way, to have it all the year round was too muclifor him. An' he galloped off like mad, and never came nigh the house again. But as I was a-sayin', she was just as much of a lady in the kitchen as the parlor, and more, enough sight more of a lady scourin' up the kitchen floor, which she did one day when I lived with her, because I had a lame hand, than two thirds of your furbelowed and flumdiddled women nowadays, too fine even to ring a bell for a servant." DR. JOHN'S WATCHWORD. 27 "There, Betsy, I haven't spilt one drop on your table. Please tell me how you came to live with grandma instead of being Mrs. Joe Battles," said cunning Margaret, who knew if she once started Betsy upon telling this many times repeated story, she should escape such close watching. "Well, the how of it was this," said Betsy, knead- ing her bread vigorously as she talked: " when Joe Battles, in a sneakin' kind of way that riled me powerful to start with, asked me to marry lm, I told him I'd consider about it. I always was great on considerin'; and the more I considered, the fur- ther I got off the notion of sayin' 'Yes.' Thinks I, 'If I marry Joe Battles, I've got to battle it sure all my life,' not that he wasn't well enough in his way, and a kind-hearted cretur to boot, but la sakes! a spunky woman wants something besides milk and water to live on or with, somethin' with grit to it. Thinks I, ' Joe's none so young now, and when he gets older he's just the sort of man to be purring round, or else gettin' the warmest place in the kitchen, like an old cat, and that'd rile me master- ful.' All't once a bright idee popped into my head, "I knew when he was comin'; so I jest set two chairs handy, one a low sort of a rocker I'd rocked your ma in many a time, close by the stove; the other a good, strong, kitchen chair, jest fit for a man to sit in, a little way fromhe fire, but the handiest to him. A page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 EVERY DAY. "' Take a chair,' says I, when he come in. "' Thank you, Miss Priam; don't care if I do.' "Next minit I saw him steerin' straight for the rocker, an' I says to myself, ' The noes have it.' "Down he plumped, an' that wasn't all. Ile stretched out his great clumsy feet under the stove right squash into a pan of bread i Thinks I, ' Old f chap, you've put your foot into more'n that pan of bread this time!' Says I, as soon, you know, as he'd got out his feet and his 'pology too, ' I've been considerin' 'bout that little question you asked me t'other night.' "'Well! ' said he, as confident as you please. "'Well! ' says I, ' I've considered an' considered all sides on't, an' the up an' down shot of it all is, I've concluded to fight my own battles, an' not yourn.' "'Does that mean,' says he, opening his mouth wide enough to have swallowed a slim gal, 'ypu won't hev me? ' "'It means jest that, an' no more 'n no less!' says I, hoppin' mad by this time that he'd been so certain of hevin' me. "' Well,' says he,-you see 'twas always ' well' with Joe, whether he'd had a fit of sickness, or come into a little money, -- ' then I s'pose there's ing use talkin' it over again?' "' Not the least bit of use in the world, Mr. Battles!' DR. JOHNS WA TCHWORD. 29 "'Well, good evening, Miss Priam! ' "'Good evening!' says I, an' the way I shet that door arter him was a settler, to my mind. That's the long an' short of that story. I never yet repented, an' 'tain't likely I shall now. If the oven's right hot, pour out the batter into them little cups, an' set 'em in the middle of the oven. That'll do for a beginner. What would you be pleased to want, Queen Isabella, an' what air you laughin' at?" "I want Margaret, Betsy, and I've been outside the door profiting upon your lesson in saying ' No.' There are other things to be learned in this kitchen, I find, besides nice cookery." "It'll do you no harm to profit by 'em when your time comes. It must be a pesky smart chance of a man to keep you in riggin'," said Betsy, in a dry tone, surveying Queen Isabella, as she usually called her, with a grim look. "As to Margaret, you can have her if you'll step out of this. There ain't room for more 'n a mile, of ruf- flin', let alone the figger they're tacked to." The two girls ran laughing out of the kitchen, Isabella shaking her hand defiantly at Betsy; while the latter went on with her work, with a satisfied smile upon her brown and wrinkled face. page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] CH APTER IV, vWA TrU-- AN IDEA. "I'VE just run over to see if you'll be at leisure, after tea, to have a confab with me, Daisy dear I'll come if you say so, and we'll go up to your sky parlor, which is just the nicest place I know of for a talkee." "Come by all means; but run home now, for I promised Betsy I'd bake the cakes as well as make them." "Well, good-by. I'm glad I've no Betsy to domineer over me." "I'm glad we have a Betsy who cares enough for us to wish to domineer; so both are suited." In about an hour Isabella came back, and, seizing Margaret by the arm, said, "Hurry up, Daisy! I've lots to say, advice to ask, et cet. and et cet.; which, being interpreted, means - " "That I am to listen to you, follow your lead, and advise whatever you wish. Lead on, and I'll follow suit if my conscience will allow." "This isn't a matter of conscience, but a matter of fun," said Isabella, seating herself in a low chair WANTED-AN IDEA. 31 by Margaret's attic window. "How pretty you do look here in this cozy little room, with your pink and white draperies, lovely little pictures, and mosses, leaves, and everything!" "Yes, it is pretty here, and I'm satisfied, - that is, mostly^" said Margaret, with a half-sigh. "Sometimes I wish for some such beautiful things as you have, and now I want money for father; but then I have him, and that's better than all." "I should think so. My father says Dr. Lee would have had the large practice Dr. Harris has if he had stayed at home. Dr. Harris is a rich man, and your father. is just dear Dr. John. That's more than money." "You may be sure that we think so, too; but, for once, I should like to try having both. But to your story. It'll soon be Blue-bell's bed-time." "How you do worship that child, and how many pet names you have for her!" "Yes, but this is her 'pettest of names,' she says. I've called her so ever since she first could- talk, and lisped out, ' O the pitty bue-bells I ' and she has a little droop of her head sometimes, like a blue-bell." "She is a dear, but she must bother you some- times. I'd like a little sister well enough, but I should not want to be tied to one." "It would depend upon what you were tied with, page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 82 EVERY DAY. I fancy. There are cords and cords. Those of love are both strong and easy to be borne." "O, if you get into the figurative tone, I shan't follow you; and it's you, now, who are delaying." I'm all attention." "Well, the case is this, and, if you can't help me,- I'e a notion of advertising to this effect: 'WANTLE-A An idea,-an original idea,-for a birthday celebration. Thanks and a generous slice of birthday cake will be awarded to the provider thereof.' " "Put your advertisement at once, then, in the ' Daily Helper.' Original ideas are not in my line, you know." "Well, think of something, then. You must, as it is your party, as well as mine. I've had tea and dinner parties, musical and dancing ditto, tableaux, private theatricals, charades, and goodness knows what I haven't had." "Have a strawherry feast, and invite those who seldom or never enjoy a taste of the delicious fruit." "Thank you, Margaret, that's 'not in my line.' Give me a list of your poor creatures, and I'll send each a box, and sugar to sweeten also; but as for my party, it must be, as it always has been, in my own set.' "I didn't suppose you'd agree. I only wanted r WANTED-AN IDEA. 88 to give- you a new sensation. Why not have just an evening party, - an early one, and a good time generally?" 1"Don't you see," said Isabella, with a look of mock despair, " the world is hollow, and my doll is stuffed with sawdust? ' Something new!' is the cry." I've one more suggestion to make, Violet, and then I've done." "Make it, best of friends, only I don't agree if it's goody." "You know the subject for our next composi- tion?" "That stupid thing? -' Life . what will you do with it?'" "Not stupid, as I mean it." "Give me your thought, then." "I suppose your party is to be composed mostly of our class at school?" "Yes, with three or four additions." , "Why not ask the girls to prepare their subjects, and come dressed in some costume suited to their ideas of life, - that is, those who choose to do so? Let them read, act, or sing their parts, as they please." ( Good, only the girls wouldn't do it, especially if the boys (I beg their high-mightinesses' pardons I - the young men) are to be left out." 3 page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 84 EVERY DAY. "Ask the girls to an early tea, and invite the boys to come at eight. The performance part will be through by that time; and those who choose to dress in costume can do so and retain it for the evening, or change, as they like." "We'll talk it over with the girls. We shall be sure of variety for one thing. Fancy Carrie Grey giving her prosy, humdrum views of life! As for me, a fool's motley will be the most, suitable array. Don't you be commonplace, Daisy dear: that's the greatest objection I have to good folks. It takes a spice of wickedness to be original." "Mother laughed when I told her about the sub- ject Madame Merivale had given us, and said she hoped we should all keep the compositions. She thought it would be very curious to see how our ideas of life would change from sixteen to twenty- five, and so on. As for commonplace, you'll want some sober views of life besides Carrie's, and I shall help make the variety." "But, Daisy, are we to say anything about our 'futures,' as Ellie Brown calls the .other half that is to be?" "Incidentally we may mention them, I should think, if we don't make them too prominent. You couldn't fancy some of the girls giving an idea of life without such an addition, could you?" "No; but I don't want silly, love-sick ditties." WANTED--AN IDEA. 85 "No danger of that, except perhaps just enough to make the variety you need. Girls are not over sentimental nowadays. There's no time for an ex- Acess of-sentiment. But here's Blue-bell. - We'll consult our mothers and madame, and then talk to the girls about it." The mothers and madame approving heartily of the plan for the birthday, the matter was then laid before the girls. They thought it would be " splendid, jolly, mag- nificent, superb, first-rate, lovely," etc., and having exhausted all the superlatives of their own language and some of the French, clustered together to talk it over. One girl declared she "hadn't an idea in her head." "Then say so," said Isabella. "If we're all honest, it'll make the more fun. If anybody thinks ice-cream and cake, good times or 'good works, fuss and feathers, prunes and prisms, or laziness, or dreaming, or flirting, the best things life has for her, let her say so. It's all among ourselves, and we hav'n't got to be tried or condemned by judge or jury for our sapient or sappy views of life. The whole thing means fun, girls; so-don't spoil it, one of you, by getting upon stilts and moralizing while your merry hearts are beating a gay measure. One page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 86 EVERY DAY. proviso I suppose I may make, as I shall probably be the first to need its restriction. Any costume so fantastic or extravagant as to be very noticeable must be changed or modified before the arrival of the 'Brothers.'" 9 . C-A PTER V. AN IDEA CARRIED OUT. IT was a busy fortnight that passed between the formation of the plan for Isabella's birthday and its celebration. Beyond some general arrangements discussed in full and somewhat noisy conclave, the girls were in ignorance of each other's parts. Mrs. Gardner and madame advised and assisted them as to dress and performance, where such advice or aid -was needed. Bright and lovely, in all the brightness and loveli- ness of a perfect June day, with its wealth of rich blooms and sweet odors, its vivid verdure and glad sunshine, the expected festival arrived. About five o'clock the few favored friends who had been in- vited, began to assemble. There was much flitting up and down stairs, in and out the dining-room (where an early tea was served, to give strength, as Isabella said, to " act well our parts "), of figures in curious shroudings of wide, old-fashioned mantles, large thin shawls, and linen circulars. At six, how- ever, each young girl emerged from her chrysalis, provoking many a laugh and comment at unlooked- *i page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 88 EVERY DAY. for developments of costume. As they ran lightly down-stairs and through the wide hall, the sound of their happy voices filled the whole house with music and gladness. The large drawing-room, in which the privileged spectators sat, was furnished with great luxury and taste. Paintings, chromos, and engravings hung upon the delicately tinted walls, statuettes and vases adorned the richly carved brackets, and the tables were covered with costly and beautiful books, and scores of the elegant trifles which adorn the homes of the wealthy. Still, even these works of art were outshone by the splendor of flowers arranged in vases and bowls, in wreaths and festoons, which filled the air with fragrance, roses of every hue being the most conspicuous. But even the June roses were in their turn eclipsed by the young girls who, in the June of their lives, came into the room with springing steps, rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, and smiling lips. "What they are doing with life now is pretty plain," said Mr. Gardner to Madame Merivale. "I think you have the brightest and merriest troop of girls in the world." "I hope they will long enjoy life in the same hearty fashion. You'll find some geese among them, but most of my girls are swans," replied madame laughing. AN. IDEA CARRIED OUT. 39 "I should think peacock a better simile, judging from that specimen," said Mr. Gardner, as a young girl passed them trailing a rich silk upon the floor; and so elaborately was she gotten up in frizzings and curlings, in braids and rolls, in laces and rib- bons, trinkets and jewels, that the wonder was "how one small head could carry all she knew" of hair-dressing and millinery. "No harsh criticisms, if you please. This is to- day's large-eyed view of life and its -privileges; exaggeration is a part of it. And, too,-- "' The soul lies within a circle of pleasures Which hideth the soul.' To-morrow that girl may wish to dress in sad- colored serge." "Hardly; if the 'boy is father of the man,' no less is the girl mother of the woman." "I could dispute that point with you, and per- haps convince you from my woman's-rights theory that this is not so, since girls have so much more unraveling to do than boys; but now I will only give you a single thought on the subject, which I pray you to inwardly digest, as it may help you with your own daughter. It is this. If girls are not to think dress the' chief end' of woman, why are they so carefully trained to it from their very cradles? We must be quiet - the play begins," , page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 . EVERY DAY. A young girl who was seated at the piano, play- ing a lively air, came to a fall stop at this moment, and visitors and performers grouped themselves in' expectant attitudes, and the merry hum of voices was stilled. Then Elsie Horne again touched the keys of the piano in low, soft notes, and a lovely young girl, dressed in filmy gauze looped up with delicate trailing vines, floated into the room, holding in one hand a slight wand, and a light scarf in the other. At intervals she would indicate with her wand different objects as types of art, poetry, and music; then, throwing her scarf to some favorite companion, would waltz around the room, sometimes to slow and sometimes to rapid measure.. At last she touched with her wand a book and some articles of elegant fancy work lying upon a table, then, with a deep obeisance to the circle of friends, she sank languidly into a brocaded arm-chair placed in a perfect bower of roses, over one arm of wlhich was a gorgeous Indian shawl. Elsie played a lively galop, and the girls danced off their excitement, while the elders made their comments upon the beautiful pantomime which had been performed. "She looks as if made for just such a life," said one. "What exquisitely delicate features and com- plexion!" "One could hardly fancy her fighting the battle of life," said another. AN IDEA CARRIED OUT. 41 And still another, "What an ethereal creature! To eat the cake and drink the wine of life, and to have no harder bed than one of roses, should be her portion. But poor Eva! she'll hardly find such a lot here." Again there was a sudden pause in the music, and then Elsie began a stately march, and the young lady with the sweeping train and elaborate dress, Arabella Livermore by name, walked slowly to the centre of the room, and unrolled a manuscript tied with royal purple ribbon. As she stood there perfect in her dress, that is for her style of dress, from her elaborately arranged hair to her daintily ornamented boots, a momentary glance of contempt shot from Elsie Horne's eyes as she swept the keys in a parting note. "On stilts," whispered one girl to another, "' in spite of Isabella's prohibition." "Hush! how could Arabella be upon anything else and be Arabella?" i' Prunes and prisms!" whispered another. "This is fun.'" Arabella Livermore was the fine writer of Madame Merivale's school. In vain had madame clipped and pruned, and tried to reduce to plain prose the exuberantly ornate'style of this young lady. Here was an opportunity, and she meant to improve it. Madame was obliged to be satisfied that she at last page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 EVERY DAY. succeeded in inducing her to represent life in one figure in place of the many which crowded her first attempt.. In her present essay, life was represented as a broad and noble river, flowing onward through banks of the brightest verdure, rarest vegetation, and loveliest scenery, arched by day with the bluest sky unflecked with cloud, and by night with the myriad-starred vault of heaven. The voyager was likened to a stately ship, whose snowy canvas was always filled with favoring breezes, except when drifting in idle luxury on calm waters. No sudden tempest, with lurid and angry skies above, no sunken rocks nor treacherous-currents impeded its onward progress; and its final passage into the wide ocean of eternity was grand, stately, and solemn. "A fine essay," said one of the ladies of the company. "It's a pity there's no reality in it. I can't bear to have the child think that bit of painted canvas is life." "When she has lived a few years longer, she will find out," said another, "that a few storms and hidden rocks are not only inevitable in the real voy- age of life, but that they add zest and enjoyment to the clear sky and deep waters." "'Bout as sensible a notion of life as you'd expect from one of her gettin' up, but as like the real thing as a dead chickenis to a fightin' rooster," was privi leged Betsy's comment. AN IDEA CARRIED OUT. 43 "Do give us a little variety now, Isabella dear," whispered a lively girl. "We've had- ' Fragrant flowers from fields of fancy, Gems of genius gloriously garnished;' and now let us have a little folly or a spice of wickedness." "Both, as I appear next upon the stage." Isabella had already attracted a good deal of at- tention from her very peculiar costume. Her skirt was a rich silk with a long train, while the waist was of puffed illusion made in party style. A sad colored silk scarf was crossed over the shoulder, and a gay plaid shawl hung over her arm. Her hair fell in curls upon her neck, and around her jaunty French hat was twisted a thick veil. Her feet were cased in thick mountain boots, and around her neck was a heavy jet chain, from which was suspended a tiny gold watch. From her morocco girdle hung keys of different sizes, gold pen and pencil case, toy pistol and case, miniature book, and tiny cap and bells. In one hand she carried a scroll of music, and a kaleidoscope, while the other was free to use as she chose. She came lightly forward with an arch smile upon her face, and said, "Friends, I have promised to be honest in giving my idea of a happy life, and I will be so, even at the risk of encountering grave looks and warning words; although, I must say, what I page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " EVERY DAY. wish to do to-day may be quite reversed to-morrow I come before you with cap and bells at my girdle, and kaleidoscope in hand, as my emblems. I would have a merry life, and tinkle my bells right cheerily, consoling my anxious friends with the saying of an ancient philosopher, 'He who is not sometimes a fool is always one.' "I would have a life of constant variety; hence the choice of this little tube, in which, with twelve bits of glasses and tinsel, and ten changes a minute, I can make variety to last ninety-one years and forty- one days. I think the most restless and changeful would ask for no more striking emblem than this. I beg you to accept this fact and my philosopher's saying as the drops of sense in my ocean of non- sense. "In conclusion I would ask you to notice my other emblems, to convince you that something beside glass and tinsel interests me, and that I sometimes follow my neighbors in good works, though, to be honest throughout, I am afiaid I do so more from the force of example than native benevolence." "Brief and honest," said Dr. John; and "Just like Isabella," said one and another. A dull-looking, heavy-eyed girl appeared next, who read a somewhat prosy dissertation upon 4her view of life, in which the principal object seemed to be to reconcile a saving amount of self-sacrifice and , : AN IDEA CARRIED OUT. 45 benevolence with the (to her) evidently paramount claims of good eating and novel-reading. "The poor child is in St. Paul's strait," said Dr. John to his -wife, -( the law of her members war- ring against the law of her mind. I am afraid flesh will conquer spirit there." Woman's rights found a zealous, and but for a few undesirable claims, judicious advocate, in a delicate,. fragile-looking young girl, who looked as- if she es- pecially needed a manly protector. No one would contest with her one right she claimed for woman, namely, the right not to be trained from her very cradle to attach an undue importance to dress and amusements. "Our mothers and our friends make for us' little coats' of vanity and pride and selfishness, , - and then, because we become attached to these gar- ments, and find it hard to cast them. off, we are desig- nated as frivolous, vain, and light-minded, and perhaps with truth; but it is an ill-conditioned plant, and one that has little material in it for good or evil growth, that will not take the direction in which it is carefully trained by the. gardener's hand. He may neglect it, and suffer it to run wild, trailing its fallen beauty on the earth; or he may force it into premature growth and flowering, so that when the fruit season comes its vigor has been all exhausted; or he may water, prune, and bend it; so that -it shall be a'goodly plant, pleasant to the eye, and good to cheer the f page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " EVERY DAY. heart; but whichever course he pursues, is not the result more his blame or his merit than the supple, yielding, unformed plant's?" Next came a lively appeal in favor of domestic labor, under one head of which the poetry of dish- washing was introduced, and so ably vindicated that it appeared that there must be a charm 'in menial labor hitherto undiscovered by less enthusiastic ad- vocates than the very modest, pretty girl who found poetry where most find only occasion for disgust. Carrie Grey followed, and her essay, if common place, was at least just and true. Her opinions were clearly expressed, and there was no attempt either at fine writing or involved sentences and startling propositions. Comments upon her essay were interrupted by sounds from the piano, which electrified the whole assemlblage. This was Elsie Horne's improvisation of life. That she commenced with a battle-cry surprised no one that knew the fiery, rebellious nature of the young girl. Having proclaimed the defiant attitude in which she regarded life, the music suddenly changed into low sweet notes of the deepest pathos and tender- ness. As she played on in this strain, her eyes softened, and the whole expression of face and figure changed, and there was something so touching in / AN IDEA CARRIED OUT. 47 her appearance that there was scarcely a dry eye in, the room. Next came a merry waltz, which grew wilder and wilder in its mad joy, till, after a short pause, in which the hushed stillness was almost painful, she played a solemn dirge, which gradually became a stormy strain of grief which filled the whole room as with sobs, and then died away in a low wail which sent a shiver through sympathetic hearts. No one spoke till 'she had risen from the piano and left the room to cool her burning head; for to all this seemed a real expression of feeling, and nearly all knew that there were circumstances in her life which explained, if they did not justify, her state of mind. "I'm glad," whispered Betsy to Mrs. Lee, "that wasn't our Margaret. As if there wa'n't nothin' better. to be done than makin' folks feel as if a wild Injun was liftin' off your scalp, then cryin' and whirligiggin' and cry agin'. It'll take a week's work to git them unarthly sounds out of my head." The next candidate for attention, Emily Bond, was a strong contrast to Elsie Horne. She was short and slight in figure, of fair complexion, easily suffused with blushes from passing emotions; dark- gray eyes, with that clear, honest look so noticeable in some eyes of that color. Her character was one page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 EVERY DAY. rarely met with in this hurrying age,- very reflect- ive, and almost morbidly conscieittious. Owing to her great diffidence, she had begged to be excused from taking any part on this occasion; and the mat- ter had been compromised by allowing her to copy from some author, if she could find her own views truly expressed. - This is what she read, in low but perfectly distinct tones:-- "RULES OF LIVING. "From an Old Divine's Legacy to his Daughter. "Whomsoever would live long and blessedly, let him ob- serve these following rules, by which he shall attain to that which he desireth: - "Let thy Thoughts be divine, awful, godly. Talk - little, honest, true. Works - profitable, holy, charitable. Manners - grave, courteous, cheerful. Diet - temperate, convenient, frugal. Apparel - sober, neat, comely. Will -confident, obedient, ready. Sleep-moderate, quiet, seasonable. Prayers - short, devout, often, fervent. Recreation--lawful, brief, seldom. Memory - of death, punishment, glory." It was a beautiful tribute to Emily's sincerity of character that not one of the girls laughed at her adoption of the life-rules of an old divine of two centuries ago. One said: "Dear little thing! she believes and means it all." AN IDEA CARRIED OUT. 49 Another: "Hoyw pure and sweet the little snow- drop looks in her white dress and green ribbons!" One of the "' girls of the period " said: "1 Horrid stupid kind of living, but just the sort for Em. My turn comes now, and I mean to frighten all the elderlies by my audacity." The audacity proved to be the opinion, freely expressed, that the first requisites for a happy life were, a gay, handsome husband, plenty of money, and a fine establishment. Parties, balls, concerts, theatre, opera, and other amusements of the time, - which are legion, - were to follow in rapid suc- cession. A little reading, much dressing, church- going and charity in strict accordance with the demands of fashion, a summer's sojourn at some noted watering-place, a winter's visit to Washing- ton, a trip to Paris, and the interstices of time filled with the pleasant trifles that pass away life. ,' And behold the sum," she concluded, "of my desires. If my good friends call this an aimless or useless life, I answer that, sharing it as I do with a large number of my fellow-beings, I am content to share with them also the pains and penalties, if such there be." After a short interval Margaret Lee appeared, to close with her essay this part of the evening's en- tertainment. She was dressed very simply, but tastefully, in 4 page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 EVERY DAY. white muslin, with a broad rose-colored sash around her waist, and a wreath of moss rosebuds on her head, and a cluster of the same in the waist of her dress. She wore no ornament, except a very beau- tiful mosaic pin, which fastened the lace ruche at her throat. Her dress and manner were so simple and natu- ral her expression so earnest and yet so happy, that all were prepared to listen to her with interest and favor. Her subject was, - "FE A MOSAIC.^ While her essay could not be called original,-- it being, in fact, only the embodiment in this form of the influences of her childhood, - neither could it be called commonplace; and Isabella's cheeks glowed with loyal pride in Margaret, as, in clear, distinct voice, she read her essay to listening friends. She began with describing the variety of mate- rials in substance and color used in the manufac- ture of different kinds of mosaic, including marble, glass, enamel, and many kinds of precious stones, with thousands of shades of color blending into or contrasting with each other. She described differ- ent sorts of mosaic-work, from pavements as large as the space covered by a good-sized house, made AN IDEA CARRIED OUT. 51 of the larger and coarser materials, to a portrait life-size, in which were used over a million of minute bits. She spoke of the different kinds of workmanship, some coarse and ill executed, others so beautifully put together as to resemble the most careful painting. She then drew a comparison between mosaic- work and human life; describing human beings as containing within themselves tne foundation- stone and the materals, coarse or fine, and the power which could make of these materials a per- fect or imperfect work. She described various lives: that of those who used the material which God had given them to make a well-blended, well- executed- work, whether of marble or jewels, and of those who wasted and misapplied time and mate- rial, and whose work was rough and unsightly. She referred to those who, out of tiny bits of every- day experience, made a whole so beautiful and per- fect that no one could tell where shade blended into shade, or where the strong contrasts united. She dwelt some little time upon the fact that the bright material predominated in most mosaic-work, and that it was the same in life, unless the first was re- jected and the latter chosen. She closed with the reminder that, as in mosaic-work the workman is not expected to be an originator, but has a pattern given him to follow, so we, too, have an example, to follow whom is all that is required of us. ^ page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 EVERY DAY. "Be Christ our pattern an'd our guide, His image may we bear! 6, may we tread his holy steps, His joy and glory share!" The tune of this hymn was then played by Elsie Horne, and the verse sung by all present who. ever had sung a note in their lives; and so ended this novel birthday entertainment, or rather this part of it. CHAPTER VI. FORESHADOWING. ELSIE- HORNE'S rising from the piano was the signal for a general unloosing of tongues, and the hum of voices was almost deafening as girls and elders made their comments upon the different actors and speakers. They were soon reminded, however, that supper and the' "Brothers" were close at hand, and that any alteration in their toilets must be made at once. There was an immediate rush up-stairs, although Eva, Isabella, and Arabella were the only ones who intended making much change in their dress; but all desired to see if skirts and sashes needed adjust- ing, collars straightening, hair smooth-- I mean tumbling, and ribbons arranging in the most coquet- tish and jaunty fashion. Besides, there were the many mysterious little nothings to be said, which girls of that age enjoy best by themselves. "O, do go away, Eva, from that glass I " said Carrie Wentworth, the girl who had expressed the desire for a handsome husband: " if that little ex- quisite fresh from Paris does come, you'll do." , page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 EVERY DAY. "Certainly," said Eva; "I'll make why for the young lady who is so candid. By the way, is Au- gustus Blake to be here to-night?" "To be sure! What would a party be without Gussy," said Carrie, not choosing to understand Eva's hint, -" the handsomest and merriest fellow of all the Brothers?" "O Arabella, I'm so glad you are going to take off your ship's wake!" said another, referring to Arabella's train of glossy silk. "There's no fun in dancing, if one has to look out for their neigh- bors' dresses." ' I'm sure we needn't do that to be true to our- selves; for, except Margaret and Em, no one else has at all taken into account our duty to our neigh-. bor," said Isabella. - ' "I say, girls," said Carrie, "won't it be fun, when we are old ladies of fiftyS, to compare our real lives with our wished-for ones?" "Old ladies! . Indeed!" said Eva. "I wonder what my pretty young mother would say if she heard that! Why, everybody thinks she's my eld- est sister!" "Well," said Carrie, impatiently," seventy then, though perhaps I tread upon somebody's sensitive toes even there!" "Come, girls, hurry. " said Isabella; " there are suspiciously gruff voices below, herald diC-t;e : FORESHADO WING. 55 vent of some of the 'Brothers,' and I'm hungry. It's one of my ' varieties' in life to eat; and I dare own it, albeit but sweet sixteen, when, I suppose, I ought to be content with a diet of milk and roses, and an occasional sip of nectar. Stop, gills! don't rush. I told the 'Brothers,' some of them, in a general way, what we were to do to-night. Doubt- less they expect a becoming gravity of deportment, suited to the momentous question we have been discussing. Let's go down as quietly as possible, with our opposites as to character, and looking as grave as judges are supposed to look. Come, Em, if you'll lead off with me, and Arabella with Mar- garet, and the rest 'accordin' to,' I think 'twill do." The "Brothers," some of whom were twenty-five years bold, Glid look surprised as the girls came slowly into the drawing-room in such incongruous couples; but they soon entered into the joke, and received their grave salutations with mock serious- ness. "Good for us that our friends are so soberly dis- posed," said Gussy Blake. "We shall have to do all the eating,--a penance a light dinner makes me joyful to undertake." "That's to be proved yet, my young friend and Brother," said Isabella, who had known Gussy from the period of short frocks and-boy dolls. "Do - I. page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 EVERY DAY. your duty in waiting upon us, and you shall find we are not deficient in ours." Full justice was done to the somewhat substantial repast which made the birthday feast, by girls and boys both, not to mention the elder portion of the company; and, after it was over, the guests dis- persed, some into the garden, others into different rooms. "Isabella! where is Isabella?" was -at last the - cry. "Some of us want to dance. Do tell us, Mrs. Gardner, where that naughty child has hid- den herself." "Not hidden at all," said Isabella, coming out of the conservatory, followed by a distinguished-look- I ing man, whom no effort of imagination could class either amongst the " boys" or the "Brothers." "I've not been out of sight five minutes." "Isabella," said Mrs. Gardner, in a low voice, after Mr. De Witt had passed out of hearing, "how is it that he is here?" "I invited him, mother. You always let me do as I like; and, though I know this isn't a grown-up party, he's not much older than Edgar Bond or Harry Winthrop." "It's not that-it's not his age, as you must know, Isabella. Your father will be seriously dis- pleased." "I couldn't help asking him. He said he ought FORESHADOWING. 57 to belohg to the Brothers, for Carrie Wentworth is his cousin; and really, mother, I didn't think you'd care." "Well, no matter, dear; only remember and be attentive to all your/guests. By the way, there's a young collegian here to-night with the Lesters,- Selford I think his name is,--who comes from your Uncle Jeffs town; and your father wishes you to be polite to him." "What! that red-haired, lanky boy! I hate boys I' And an awkward, countrified Down-easter, too! If I must, I must; but I'll be polite in a chilly fashion," she added under her breath. When Isabella had appeared with Mr. De Witt, Mrs. Gardner felt, for the first time, a slight mis- giving as to the effect of unlimited indulgence upon her daughter in a direction hitherto unthought of. But there was nothing more to excite her uneasi- ness that evening; and she watched Isabella with gratified pride 'as she moved brightly and merrfilyf among her young friends, and was quite satisfied when she saw her dancing with the " lanky boy." "Carrie," asked one of the young ladies present, who was a stranger in town, " who are the Broth- ers? Is it a secret society?" "Not exactly. You must know that our good madame interests herself in 'our home pleasures as well as our studies; and as she is a friend of most page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 EVERY DAY. of our parents, and of Dr. and Mrs. Lee in particu- lar, she has great influence. She favors pleasant little home parties, where boys and girls meet to- gether and have a good time, of course with some older friends to look after them. And we do have right good times. We go in our nice home dresses, keep early hours, have the simplest refreshments, talk and laugh, play games, and dance cotillons, or some of the old-fashioned: dances." "How stupid that part of it must be!" "Wait till you join us, and see if it's 'stupid. But, as I was saying, one of our mammas has cer- tain starched notions about boys and girls visiting together. Perhaps she considers boys as totally depraved, or something of that sort. When she raised this objection, Mrs. Gardner said to her: 'Surely you" wouldn't object to the girls' brothers going with them? ' "'No, she couldn't see any objection to that,'- not seeming to see that your brother wouldn't be mine, and so on. Occasionally we smuggle in a cousin or a friend, but they all are called ' Brothers.' Mrs. ---'s squeamishness has done one thing for us: it has kept out all the bad boys, or objection- able young men. Rufus De Witt, whom I do not like, although he is my cousin, has tried repeatedly to get into our circle, but has never succeeded till to-night; and this is Isabella's affair, not a ' joint- stock company,' as Tom calls our little sociables." FORESHADO WING. 59 "And ' Isabella,' as you call her?" "Isabella is just a dear, delightful, spirited crea ture, who always has her own way, but it's a way that gives her friends the best of times. There's Gussy come to take me for a turn. Madame and the Lees, and one or two more, don't approve of round dances; but, in a party like this, each one does as she thinks fit, as most of our mammas, after satisfying their consciences by expressing their dis- approval of round dances, let us do as we like." "Are you satis-ied with your girls, madame?" said Dr. Lee, as they sat watching the bright young faces, as intent upon dance, promenade, or game as if the momentous question of life and its duties had never been discussed. "Very much satisfied, indeed," was her emphatic rejoinder; "very much satisfied that these girls have all been so honest. They have not, with one or two exceptions, been in the least stilted or un- natural in their views. None of them have ex-. pressed a desire for lives of self-denial and good works alone. Some of them have not spoken of them at all, for the good reason that they did not think of them as sources of happiness. Yet it does not follow that they will be selfish above others, who make greater professions of virtue. I believe that, while they have all given us the key-note to their future characters, they are now building wiser page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 EVERY DAY. than they know,--that the inevitable discipline of life will bring into bold relief latent virtues and graces, now hidden under the exuberance of ani- mal spirits. "Still I think Eva will droop and fade if not the' petted child of luxury and ease. Arabella will reign a stately queen in the world of fashion, at least while her portion of the wheel is uppermost. Isa- bella's restless and exacting nature, which has never been taught discipline or self-denial, will long for new turns in her kaleidoscope of life, and will make them, too, at the expense of many a heart-ache to her mother. Elsie, our poor Elsie, will alternate storm and calm; and sweet Emily Bond will always be a pure little snow-drop, whose somewhat rigid creed will no more chill her real life than her name-flower is chilled by winter snows. Carrie- will dearly love her handsome husband, and all that his money can give her; and Commonplace will fill no unimportant part in the world's machinery, sneeringly as it is the fashion to speak and think of her kind. "Woman's Rights will probably find some of her views modified on the vexed question when she considers it with maturer judgment and a fuller knowledge of the breadth and scope of woman's sphere. Our zealous little advocate for the poetry of work and common life will find joy and beauty where others see only drudgery and dullness. FORESHADO WING. 61 "And Margaret, our dear Margaret, will go on day by day adding to the beautiful pattern of her life, though not without many a weary sigh at the slow- ness of the process, and many a longing to substitute bright tinsel for the dull bits. So long as my life is spared, I shall watch with earnest interest the fu- tures of these young girls. "Over all hang clouds, heavy indeed in their blackness for some; but light or heavy, beyond them all, we know'the sky is blue, and the sun shines wide and diffusive as God's tender love and care., s - * page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] CHAPTER VII. TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. SCHOOL was over, the long summer vacation had begun, madame had gone to her quiet retreat by the sea-shore, and the girls were all making prep- arations of one kind and another for their sum- mer's recreation. Madame Merivale's parting advice to them was to have a good time, get strong and healthy, and with open eyes and willing minds receive whatever of instruction and help the mountain, valley, or sea- shore had for them,- to carry school habits of attention and well-doing with them. If they-wrote letters or journals home, she advised that they should be written as well and carefully as if de- signed for criticism and inspection. "Let your mementos of your summer's home, whether drawings or pretty fancy articles, be done skillfully and well. In short, my dear young friends, do not let any of us have any badly ce- mented pieces of mosaic work to bring back, and let us put all the bright bits in such work that will fit in harmoniously." TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. 63 Isabella had a little party of some of her city friends in the first week of vacation, and insisted upon Margaret's coming also. ' No, I don't want to come with your fine lady friends. I shall get perverse if I do, and I've noth- ing to wear' upon such a grand occasion." "Nonsense; trust your mother for that. Come you must, and shall. The girls from the city are no finer than Eva and Carrie, who are both coming." Margaret consulted her mother, who advised her -going, and the dress question was settled by Mrs. Lee's producing a pretty rose-colored tarlatan, given her the year before by Mrs. Elwell for Margaret. "How pretty! It will just fit me. It was Anna's?" "Yes, dear. Wear white flowers in your hair and for a breast-knot, and you'll do." She did " do " very nicely to all lovers of simple and becoming attire; but some of the young ladies, who measured every one's dress by its being of new fashion, made their comments upon Margaret in this way:- "Quite a pretty girl, but what an old-fashioned dress! made two years ago at least. Poor thing I she must be poor." "How horrid that must be!" said Miss Theodosia Burton, whose father had recently come into a great fortune. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " EVERY DAY. "Hush!" said another, c" she's Isabella's pet friend; and her father might have been rich if he hadn't gone to the war and lost his health." "O, how interesting! but I should want the money too. It's so hard to get along without lots nowadays." "I dare say it doesn't matter to her. It isn't likely she goes into such company as this very often. I shouldn't want to, if I couldn't dress like the rest." And the complacent young lady smoothed the folds of her rich blue silk, and arranged her heavy bracelets, and passed on, quite oblivious to the fact that Margaret had heard every word she said. "What a color you have, Daisy!" said Isabella a few minutes later, coming up to her. "Do come out of that corner and enjoy yourself. I'll introduce you to some of the girls." "No, thank you; some of them have introduced themselves already." "How good of them! well, they know you are my friend; " and Isabella passed on, not understand- ing Margaret's meaning. For a while Margaret got along very well, for Carrie Wentworth, who had a great admiration for Margaret's scholarship and modesty, came and pointed out to her one and another of the girls. "That's Amelia Spaulding, own cousin to our little domestic work's advocate. Not much resem- TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. 65 blance between them is there? I call Amelia real shoddy in her style, but I don't agree with Helen either in her notions. I guess if she had Amelia's money, she'd soon forget how poetical it was to wash dishes, scrub, etc." "I didn't understand Helen to mean that she should choose domestic labor, but simply if she had it to do she should find pleasure and beauty in it; and though I do think pots, kettles, and pans are hateful, yet I believe there is such a real beauty in cleanliness that I could even learn to enjoy washing them." "In that case it is the result you would enjoy, not, as Helen stated, the thing itself." "Well, I think," said Margaret, laughing, " under certain circumstances I might even enjoy the thing itself. Given; a pretty gingham working-dress, hot suds, and a nice place to work in, the cleansing process would have a sort of beauty. I do like to brighten up things. And I needn't think all the time of dishcloth or kettle. I fancy I could write letters and take little fancy trips while so employed." "Virtuous creature! Don't mention your pro- clivities to Gussy Blake. He said one day you looked like a girl with no nonsense about her. Gussy's my friend, and here he comes now for a galop. Good-by, dear, for a while. It's such a pity you only dance sober cotillons." page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " EVERY DAY. So Margaret thought, as couple after couple whirled by, while she sat in the corner, by a little round table, looking at engravings and photograph albums. They looked so bright and merry, most of them. Once in a while she would see a couple who seemed to be taking the sport pretty seriously in their efforts to keep properly balanced and avoid collisions with their less anxious neighbors. But when one pair after another sank down into the nearest seat exhausted with their labors, the young ladies looking far redder and more uncomfortable than an " odious cooking-stove " would have made them, and the young men with a less interesting hue than the use of hoe and spade would have in- volved, she could not help thinking of one of her father's favorite French proverbs, "The play is not worth the candle." Still it was rather forlorn to be a wall-flower when other girls were having such a good time. If this was a needful part of her life mosaic, it was a very dull bit indeed! Just at this juncture, when if any one had spoken to her she certainly would have replied in a tremu- lous voice, her attention was diverted from herself by hearing young Metcalf, the returned Paris ex- quisite before alluded to, say to Eva Searles, in a most languid tone, and with many French words to emphasize his opinion, - "O, after Paris, one finds it dull enough here; TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. 67 and then as for pictures, music, and all beautiful and divine things, it quite gives one a mental cramp to look or listen in this rude region. I shall never rest till I am of age, and can go to Paris - beautiful, en-' chanting Paris -to live!" Margaret smiled, and, looking up, encountered a keen glance of intelligence and amusement from Harry Winthrop, who chanced to be passing with a young medical student who had a mania for inves- tigating unusual cases. "Here's your doctor, then, Met-calf," said Harry, purposely prolonging the last syllable; " follow his prescription, and I'll warrant a cure of your dis- tressing malady in a month." "Yes," said the young man, entering into the joke, "or no cure no pay. What are your symp- toms?" and the unwelcome doctor followed Eva and her lackadaisical attendant, whilst Harry Win- throp stopped to speak to Margaret, whom he dis- covered to be wonderfully fresh and pretty in her becoming and simple dress, with that intelligent smile upon her face. Harry Winthrop, though a "Brother," was not a boy, as he was twenty-two years old, and already in business with his father; and although he had met Margaret many times before, he had only thought of her as a pretty, unaffected child. A very lovely, intelligent girl he found her this evening, as he stood page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 EVERY -DAY. by her side chatting about home and abroad, a sub- ject naturally enough introduced in connection with Metcalf's affected remarks. How long he would have stayed talking to Mar- garet is quite uncertain,had he not been sunmoned to his sister. "There, I'm under orders, and must obey; but may I claim your hand for the next galop?" "Thank you," said honest Margaret, with a tone of regret in her voice; "I should be glad, but I never dance round dances except-" "O, don't you? I'm- glad,--that is, I mean I'm sorry I can't have you for a partner; but you do dance?" "O yes, cotillons;" and her feet tapped the floor, as if longing to join the merry dancers still whirling around. "Well, I suppose in this assemblage a cotillon will be hard to achieve, but we shall see. In case I manage this difficult matter, Miss Lee, I may depend upon you for a partner?" "Most certainly, I shall be delighted; I mean, I am so fond of dancing, and there is so little chance for one who only dances cotillons, reels, etc." "O, I understand," said Harry, laughing; "I didn't flatter myself you were delighted with your partner." And Harry rejoined his sister, who re- minded him that he was engaged to dance with TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. 69 Miss Theodosia. He made a slight grimace aside before claiming his privilege, saying to himself, "What an artless, honest, pretty girl she is! I'm glad she doesn't dance round dances, though I don't know what is the ' difference to me.'"The " she" evidently did not refer to his present partner, who almost exhausted his strength before she signified any desire to be seated. He revenged himself upon her, however, by get- ting up a cotillon, in which he was warmly seconded by Isabella for Margaret's sake. How Margaret enjoyed that dance! none the less perhaps that she knew any of the gayly dressed girls in the company would have willingly danced with her agreeable and entertaining partner. When she bid Isabella good-night soon after, she felt that she could say with truth that she had had a good time. But the next day brought a revulsion of feeling. She was tired, her head ached, she remembered the coldness and the remarks of some of the girls, wondered if Mr. Winthrop thought her forward or foolish, was sure he must have been glad when the cotillon was over, hoped he didn't think she was vain enough to believe he really cared for dancing with her, and, having made herself as uncomfortable as possible, went to her mother's room, laid her head down in her lap, and said, "I've come to confess, mother X mine." i: page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 EVERY DAY. "What is it, dear; nothing about last night, I hope?" "Yes, I suppose it is in consequence of last night. It's foolish and contemptible of me, I know; but I didn't feel like one of them, and to-day it seems as if fine clothes and plenty of money are very desira- ble things to have, and we haven't got them, and people will mind if you are poor, and except their money they are not one bit better than we are." ' - Well, my dear, if you qan untangle that sen- tence, and make a simple statement of your griev- ances, perhaps I can help you. As far as I do un- derstand you, it is the want of money that troubles you?" "' Not exactly, for I never want a prettier dress than I had last night, and I am sure I am happy as we are; but I don't want to be remarked upon, and I do want to feel as if I lived at least in one corner of the same world with such people as I met last night, and not i another planet;" and Margaret repeated the remarks she had overheard. Mrs. Lee sighed, almost wearily. This money question that was always coming up, how was it to be settled? She knew it was folly to tell Marga- ret how much happier and more contented girls were in her day than the present; for she knew she would think, if she didn't say, "Your day isn't ours." What she did say after a moment's painful thought was this:-- tI TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. 71 "I am not going to tell you not to care for such remarks, my dear, for I know at your sensitive age you must care for them; but I want you to consider whether you really do wish to be of their world, --whether their lives would give you happiness, W-i - their pleasures satisfy you." "I am sure I do not, and they would not." "Then, my dear, make up your mind to be, happy in your own world, which is neither small nor con- temptible, including as it does some of the best-born, best-educated, and even some of the most wealthy in the community. I wish for your sake, and for the sake of all young people situated as you are, that this foolish feeling wik/regard to money had less weight. As it is, I think you overrate its influ- ence, and that you have really very little cause for complaint. We are in the sphere of life in which God has placed us; let us be content, nay, grateful to remain in it, especially as we none of us have any taste or desire for fashionable life. I cannot expect a young girl of sixteen to look at this matter with my experienced eyes; but even you, Margaret, know that it is not what we have, but what we are, that puts the indelible stamp upon us. If we are marked as God's children, followers of his Son, who had not where to lay his head, who had neither sil- ver nor gold, is not that joy and distinction enough for us? You remember that sweet little. poem,' The Changed Cross?'" page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 EVERY DAY. "O, yes." "It applies to conditions in life as truly as to trials or crosses. Could we exchange lots with our more favored (in worldly goods) neighbors, we should not find the happiness we expect. Strive to cultivate the spirit of that little poem, and say, - "' Henceforth my own desire shall be That He who knows me best should choose for me; And so, whate'er his love sees good to send, I'll trust it's best, because He knows the end.'" "I know all this, mother, but I cannot always feel it. I do really suppose, to be honest, that I shouldn't think as much of these things if I hadn't Isabella for a friend. The contrast tries me sometimes, when I'm a little out of sorts. I get tired, too, of my little bits of life. Now, if I was in Isabella's place, I could do great things." "Could, but would you?" "O, I don't know. I think I should." "I don't doubt you will find Isabella more rest- less and discontented than you are, wishing to do something she never has done, and never can do perhaps. You will not feel in this way to-morrow. It is not Margaret Lee's real self that cares very much for the idle remarks of a few thoughtless girls. A little rest, change of scene and occupation, will throw a new light upon everything. I mean -you shall have all this. Mrs. Elwell has put two rooms TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. 73 in her country house at our disposal for as much time as we can give her. Your father has con- sented to go. I want you to take Alice, and go with him." "And you?" "I will stay with the boys and Nancy Hill, and let Betsy make her visit to her niece." "Do you want to make me happy, mother, right off?" "Indeed, dear, I do." "Then for Margaret Lee please put Mrs. John Lee, and the plan will be perfect. I will learn to do all sorts of things, as father wishes me to do. George will help, and so will Harvey. Robert will come over and guard us at night, and Betsy shall go. Please, mother, say yes." "Indeed, I cannot be so selfish, dear." "Look, mother,"- and Margaret held before her mother's eyes a little pocket-glass,--" what do you see there? I see out of it a dear, pale, tired face, that belongs to the most unselfish mother in any world-mine or Miss Theodosia's. Father says the face was round and rosy once: give it a chance to get back a little color and fullness, and give me a chance to atone for my grumbling, and to learn to keep house." Margaret was so earnest that Mrs. Lee could only say that she would think about it, at which * * *'i; page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 EVERY DAY. concession Margaret jumped up, clapped her hands, and said it was as good as settled, and she would run over and see Isabella. The bright face, with no trace upon it of the morning's discontent, that she carried into Isabella's handsomely furnished and luxurious room, was in striking contrast to the latter's wearied and dispir- ited expression. "What's the matter, Violet? you look as blue as your bluest namesake." "Nothing; tired, I suppose, after the party; and then I don't like any of the plans for the summer - don't want to go to the seashore or the moun- tains." "' Why not try real country life --a farm, for in- stance?" "That would be new to me at least- yes, I will ask mother to find a place in the country. I'll try living on berries and cream. I'll be pastoral, go after the cows, rake hay, ride in a hay-rigging, have a wide straw hat, and be altogether rural. And what will you do, Daisy dear?" "I don't know yet, but I know what I hope to do." "Something virtuous and Daisy-like, of course." "You may think it so, but I shall like it ever so much if I can get mother to consent;" and she told Isabella of the plan she had urged upon her mother. TARLATAN VERSUS SLK. 75 "You're a good little dear, and I don't wonder you want to give your mother a holiday instead o taking one yourself; but to do the kitchen work! you can't mean it!" "That I do, if I can ' get let,' as Barney says." "Think of your hands, child!" "They were made to be used." "Think of your face, red and blowzy over the fire!" "The best kind of rouge, my dear." "Think of the dishes you'll spoil in your igno- rance!" "The best practical use of chemistry." "Think of the dust and dirt you'll have to fight with I " "The surest way to appreciate the poetry of cleanliness." "Think of your aching limbs at night!" "The more welcome the rest afterwards." "Think of spending your vacation in drudgery!" "I don't mean to make it drudgery." "Well, Daisy of daisies and Pearl of pearls, won't it be drudgery? doesn't your daily round of petty duties, your tiny bits of things that go to make up i your life mosaic, seem infinitesimally small and alto- gether hateful sometimes?" "N-oyes-perhaps sometimes, when they interfere with some favorite pursuit, they do; but page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 EVERY DAY. when I once take hold of a thing, I get interested in it. And in this case I shall think so much of my dear mother resting, and Betsy away getting strong to help us again, that it'll throw a sort of a glamour over my work, even the most disagreeable., Besides, I don't expect to do it all my life. It's only for a while, and giving me a knowledge of domestic mat- ters, which father is even more anxious than mother that I should acquire. Father says if women only knew how many persons yearly fall victims to dys- pepsia and its following evils, whatever was- neg- lected in their daughters' education a knowledge of cookery would not be. And I must learn to help Betsy, don't you see? 'She's a host; but, as mother says, the best of Betsys will grow old, after serving two generations. Suppose we each of us keep a journal this summer, and see who gets the best time out of their vacation. If I get tired of pots and pans and housework generally, I'll say so. If you tire of being rural or doing as you like, say so." "Agreed. I dare say I shall cry out first, and long for more changes in my kaleidoscope." Two days later Isabella came flying over to Dr. John's like a whirlwind, with an open letter in her hand. "The programme is changed for me, Daisy dear. I am going Down East to Uncle Jeff 's, dear, - dis- tant, barbarous Down East, where I've always TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. " longed to go, to see if the people really do live on codfish and pork and molasses, have houses that are half wigwams, and speak a dialect that is a mixture of the aboriginal and the Yankee drawl. This is part of what Uncle Jeff writes. He's a bit of a cynic in his way, mother says. "' Now that we have direct semi-weekly com- munication with the Hub, now that we are able to quicken our intellects and furnish our tables from thence, and now, lastly and mostly, as a powerful argument in favor of my request, that we are but a pleasant summer's sail from Mount Desert, the fash- ionable resort of the davy, I venture to beg a visit from my niece Isabella. My daughter Blanche, who is at present not only my housekeeper but my housemaid; joins me in this request. For additional inducements, brown bread, and cream, and fresh air ad libitum.' " "That sounds very aboriginal and wigwamish certainly." " O, Uncle Jeff had a college education, lives in the old mansion-house built by his father, and is of course altogether superior to the majority of the people down there. So, at least, mother says, and father only looks a little queer and says, Wait, and find out, dear.' When I wondered what Blanche was like, getting a little hope from her name, he said, 'Why, don't you see her father says she's his page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 EVERY DAY. housemaid? She'll give you good cooking, I ven- ture to say, for your uncle always was particular in that respect.' "So now, hey for Down East! I'm to go by cars to the City of Hills, which is also the head- quarters of civilization in that -rgion, visit my aunts there, and then go down to Seafort. O, I do expect to have a real good time, and see and hear lots of funny things. I'll take two or three of my last year's dresses to Cousin Blanche. Poor thing! I dare say she'll like to be a little in the fashion." "Strange you shouldn't know your cousin." "O, she isn't my ' really' cousin, as Alice says. My Grandfather Gardner and Uncle Jeff's father were cousins and friends also; and when father was a boy, he spent a good deal of time in the family, and he used to call the old gentleman uncle, and taught me to call his son and daughters uncle and aunts. I don't think mother is fond of ' cousining,' as she calls it. I had to tease her full five minutes before she consented to my going. O, it's such fun to think of! Only I wish you were going, too, you dear little Daisy! It's a shame that she must stay at home and drudge, the dear creature I " And Isabella patted, Margaret's soft brown hair, and executed two or three pirouettes around her chair, and then declared she must be off, adding, "Only one week to get ready in." TARLATAN VERSUS SILK. 7c One week later Isabella had left Rockville for her Eastern trip, and Dr. and Mrs. Lee and Alice gone to visit Mrs. Elwell at her beautiful country seat in Berkshire County. Margaret gained her wish with her mother, because she found a powerful supporter in her father. He thought it an excellent opportunity for Mar- garet to learn-to work and keep house. Mr. Gard- ner would be at home most of the time, and Robert, his faithful coachman, would come over and guard the children at night, and the boys were kind and helpful. Still Mrs. Lee hesitated, and then Dr. John had recourse to a little special pleading. With almost lover-like entreaty, which no true man ever ceases to use, or woman to value, he begged her to go for his sake. "We haven't been off together for years, Lizzie, to have a good time. Let's go now, and be, idle and merry, and come back bright and fresh as from a second honeymoon. I need you to take care of me, more than I did when you made that promise under : the old elm-tree." "Ah, well, John dear, if you put the case so, I suppose I must go." 1 * r-;' r': page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] CHAPTER VIII. ISABELLA S JOURNAL. HERE I am, my Daisy, actually a dweller in this dear, delightful old town, which has a history con- necting it with the French and English nations, which has the ruins of two forts and the remains of many mounds, about which are various traditions more or less authentic. A perfect little gem of the sea it is, and for quietness it might be a Sleepy Hollow, only there is no hollow about it, rising as it does in gentle slopes from the river and bay that almost encircle it. No whistling, whizzing steam, or tinkling horse cars invade its seclusion, or break the quiet repose which pervades its atmosphere. Even the steamboat which connects the place with the Hub and the summer resort of the time, comes gliding in with gentle motion and suppressed whistling, as if apologizinfor its intrusion in so peaceful a re- gion; at least, so it seems to me, though Uncle Jeff smiles, and says something is due to my imagi- nation, and something more to the distance we are from the entrance to the harbor. But I must refer you to the journal %which I have ISABELLA'S JOURNAL. 81 kept for the benefit of the twin households at Rockville. August, 186-. - Left the City of Hills in one of the finest boats that run on the Eastern waters, and enjoyed a succession of surprises in our eighteen miles' river passage in the beautiful and varied views which opened one after the other before us, as we steamed down past rural villages and larger towns, past fertile farms and thickly wooded precipitous banks, into quiet little land-locked bays, out into a broad expanse of water, in again between high banks, and once more out where the river goes on broadening, till lost in the beautiful many-islanded bay, itself soon to be merged in the wide ocean beyond. But before our beautiful river loses its identity, we stop, go on shore, and, climbing a steep hill, turn to see the boat move off on its des- tined way. Ah, how we pity the poor mortals doomed to a night of it on board that boat! for the wind, increasing since the morning, roars and whistles a lively promise of stirring times before morning. I say we, meaning for the plural part the dearest and youngest of old aunties (old to be understood as a term of affection), under whose care I am placed. We wait two hours at a country tavern for the stage, which is to be the medium of finishing our 6 page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 EVERY DAY. journey, and which we hope will not finish us also. At last it appears, a long, red, covered wagon, open in front, into which a long jump and a short hop brings us, and we arrange ourselves for the four hours' ride as comfortably as we may; Auntie, as "'tis her nature to," making herself as uncomfortable as possible, that she may make others comfortable. On we go, up hill and down, soon for a time out of sight of the river and on the banks of a reach, the river's tributary, through small farming towns into still woods, then through a granite region where the great boulders lie scattered' around, as if some day there had been a battle of giants waged on the spot. Now we are at the top of a hill so steep and stony that it well deserves its name of Hard Scrab- ble, firom which, however, the prospect fully atones for anticipated jolts and pitches, at least so says Auntie, who raves of blue waters and bluer skies, of hill and vale, bay and ocean, " my own, my native land," till I wonder at the spell which past associa- tions have thrown over her, making her seem a new creature. It is a lovely view though, even my unprejudiced eyes can see that, as we tumble and pitch down down-jolted here, tossed there, and shaken every- where. There is the beautiful bay, fringed with quiet, peaceful towns, its broad expanse flecked with ISABELLA'S JOURNAL. 83 white sails, and decked with islands which glisten like emeralds in the sunshine. In the distance rises a chain of hills so blue as to well merit their name, and other hills and mountains upon which iests a soft purplish haze, and fancy, if not my eyes, can see the broad Atlantic beyond. After this view, which filled me with strange emotions, neither of us wished to talk much; and I was quite indignant at a raw Down-easter, quite as raw as my fancy had paintedi him, saying in a nasal twang,' "Kinder pooty sight, aint it now?" At length the last hill is surmounted, and we travel at rapid pace (for an Eastern stage-coach) over the half-mile of level road which lies between us and the old mansion-house; and here we are at Uncle Jeff's, and there is Uncle Jeff himself com- ing quickly down the walk to meet and cordially greet us. In the doorway stands a vision of fair- ness dressed in blue silk skirt and white waist, whom I at once conclude to be some visitor of dis- tinction, strayed for a brief space from Mount Desert. To my amazement, this vision seizes and embraces Auntie, and then turns to me as Uncle Jeff says, "This is your Cousin Blanche," 'and graciously welcomes me with kindly words. Down tumble - or perhaps I should say up rise - -my preconceived ideas of Blanche and her home, page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 EVERY DAY. as I go into the wide hall, and from thence to the handsomely furnished rooms below and above, adorned with pictures and engravings, and many articles of foreign virtu. I wonder if Aladdin's lamp is not to be found in this region, and I won- der, too, if this is an average specimen of the homes in this distant spot. I am sure I am but a sorry figure beside my cousin Blanche, about whom is an air of easy graciousness almost queen-like. How my cheeks burn as I think of the last year's dresses in my trunk intended for her, and how I hope Auntie will keep my counsel! How kindly Blanche says, "You look warm, Cousin Isabella! I hoped you were having a comfortable journey, it has been so cool here." "It was very comfortable," said Auntie, with a mischievous side-look at me. "You must attribute our flushed faces to pleasure, not to heat." August -. - How soundly I slept in the spacious four-windowed room, which Auntie tells me was their guest-chamber in her young days! But 0 the stillness, the stillness! Surprise upon surprise! The first evening of my arrival in Seafort, I expressed my commisera- tion for Blanche that she had no cook. A queer smile flitted over her face as she said, "O, I have an excellent one now, - at least, father thinks so, - and a housemaid beside." Partaking, with the ISABELLA'S JOURNAL relish of sixteen-years-old healthy appetite, sharp- ened to its keenest edge by the pure, bracing air of this vicinity, of the dainty viands placed before us, I begin to wonder where "'cook" hides herself, as I see no one but a young girl about my own age. Auntie, with a slight touch of triumph in her tone, informs me that Blanche and her young girl are the cooks that furnish forth such richly browned chickens, such foamy and snowy desserts, such deli- cious cakes and cakes, and--such coffee! Here language fails me when I attempt to describe that beverage! Auntie says my daily remark, uttered each time with the earnestness and gravity of new- ness, is, "I am hungry to-day." How Dr. and Mrs. John would triumph if they could see Blanche, with her easy, dignified man- ners; now presiding at her father's table, and doing the honors to frequent guests; now busy in the kitchen, the tutelary genius of the cooking-stove; and now accompanying herself on the piano with an uncommonly rich and musical voice; and, again, entering into the fun and nonsense which "this child " so much enjoys, with all her heart; and, in each and all, behaving as if they were the most natural things in the world for her to do! Verily I begin to believe that there are more pleasures on earth than I ever dreamed of in my philosophy, and that there may be poetry even in a kitchen I page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] (6" EVERY DAY. I have received and made a few visits since 1 came here; and when I meet the cultivated and intelligent people, and see the refinement and beauty of their homes, my cheeks tingle again, much as they did when I met Blanche for the first time. Here -endeth installment first of my journal. Perhaps, in the next, my kaleidoscope will be changed; for, though as yet I've seen neither "' boy " nor " brother," it is rumored that not only young Sea--or Set-something--is coming here, but that others may be expected. Uncle Jeff will not allow me to call Selford- that's his name- lanky or red-haired. He says he's a most superior young man, and that any girl may be proud to know him. Well, Uncle Jeff, tastes differ; and sixteen and sixty are not always in accord in opin- ion, not to mention the gulf of sex between to ii-i fluence a decision. dt' CHAPTER IX. MARGARET S JOURNAL. WEDNESDAY, August -, 186-. - At last - let me take a long breath and enjoy it! --at last Betsy is really off! I saw her seated in the car, her feet firmly braced againstlthe foot-board, and her attention divided between a bundle, box, and bag, and the incoming passengers. I saw the train rove off; but it was not till it was fairly out of sight, and George waved his hat and cried out,' "Hurrah, she's gone!" that I felt quite secure upon the point. After father and mother left us, instead of going herself, as was expected, Betsy clung to us with all the persistency of the Old Man of the Sea. She invented excuse after excuse for staying; and when at last I got fairly roused, and told her she must go, she coolly said: "I don't think I shall go at all. Your pa can't afford to have good vittles sp'ilt, nor your ma to have her best dishes ruinated. I guess I'll wait another year. Betsy Jane'll do without seeing me." "It'll be real unkind of you, Betsy, if you do. page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] !ts EVERY DAY. You'll spoil all our fun, the boys' and mine, for the vacation. You know we want to learn to do things, and we can't when you are here. Besides, mother said if you didn't go away, she should hire Nancy Hill to help through the autumn work. She meant it, too; for when I said, ' Betsy won't let you,' she said, ' I sha'n't consult Betsy. If she doesn't go away to please me, I shall do as I think best about Nancy.'" "I'll go to-morrow, then. Guess you'll wish 1 was back before Monday night. Go right away, and let me fly round." "Fly round" she did. She baked and brewed (yeast), she swept and scrubbed, washed and ironed, scolded and almost cried, and exhorted and cautioned us till we didn't fully know what we were to do and what we were not to do. Two directions, however, were made clear to us. They were these: "Now, don't you go to sp'ilin' that little porcelain sass-pan I've made so many sick- messes in for your ma and pa; and don't you cut that 'ere loaf of fruit-cake, unless it's an emergent case. Promise, now!" "O--o--o!"George almost howled out, at this unkindest direction of all; but I said, and he echoed me in a moment, "We" promise.')" The result of Betsy's "flying round" was, a clean house, a large supply of bread, ditto cookies, MARGARET'S JOURNAL. a nice piece of cold corned beef, and a pervading air of plenty and ease about the whole establish- ment. All the way to the city, while in the horse- cars, she continued her charges to us, much to the amusement, if not instruction, of other passengers: but then she only followed the general practice of thinking no one but herself had eyes or ears. "Now, Margaret, be sure and keep your tins washed bright and clean with soap-suds; and, whatever else you do or don't do, mind and keep up them winder-shades, and not let the flies have a general jubilate the minit my back's turned. They will, though; they know when I'm about. "And, George, don't cut off your feet with the hatchet, or split the woodshed floor instead of the kindlins. The directions about the coal-fire I writ off, and put in the table drawer. Guess you'll need 'em afore you're many days older." Saturday, August -. - Getting along splendidly. We all think it's fun to keep house. To be sure I've had very little to do so far, except to bake potatoes and cook a few vegetables, and the fire did go out twice yesterday in the stove, but still it's Ilothing but play. To-morrow we are to dine with Mr. Gardner, who is alone, except the servants. Monday, August-. -Pride has had a fall. I did wish Betsy at home to-day many a time. George and I were up bright and early to have breakfast out page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 EVERY DAY. of the way, and water heated for Mrs. O'Brien, the washerwoman, who was to do for us what we could not manage for ourselves. But, to alter the old nursery story, coal wouldn't burn, fire wouldn't go, water wouldn't heat, time breakfast was ready an hour and a half ago. To be sure breakfast needn't have been much to get, as we eat bread and milk and oatmeal mush mostly, only I -had the ambition to mix some wheat-meal cakes, and of course they wouldn't bake minus a fire. Equally of course Mrs. O'Brien, big and red and loud-voiced, but a capital worker even Betsy admits, arrived while yet we were coaxing the fire to burn. "An' whativer am I to do?" she said with an indignant sniff; "how am I to wash without hot wather, and two babbies wanting me at noon, and me afternoon engaged to Miss Corney?" "Run, George, quick, and make a wood-fire un- der the boiler. Betsy uses it sometimes." Water thus procured for irate Mrs. O'Brien, we sat down to a cold breakfast, and afterwards made anew our coal-fire from the foundation, and had what George called a rouser just when we had no use for it. We had in solemn conclave of tree previously decided that we would have fried liver and tapioca pudding for dinner; but just as the boys were going to market, it occurred to me to consult Mrs. O'Brien. MtARGARET'S JOURNAL. 91 "An' sure if it's me yer askin' I'm not afther liking that same," was her answer, scrubbing away with renewed energy upon her clothes. To shorten my story, George and Harvey went for a beef-steak, and I succeeded in burning both that and the potatoes. The tea-pot fell off the stove just as I was about tak- ing it to Mrs. O'B.'s table, at which culmination of my troubles I cried, and she scolded. "It'll be best for yees to look out for another washerwoman. I can't work without me cup o' tay, and there's me babbies'll be kilt intirely, an' starved beside." However, a fresh cup of tea, milk and sugar in abundance, bread and butter, and cookies without stint somewhat pacified her, and she spent a com- fortable half-hour over her meal without,any out- ward token of anxiety about her " babbles." O! I forgot to mention that the pudding seeming rather thin and milky, I remembered that I hadfor- gotten the eggs. As for the poetry of cooking, have not found it much but prose, - hard, trisyllabled, unmitigated prose. Have just read Isabella's jour- nal; wish Aladdin's lamp was to be found here. Pots and pans are -just pots and pans. No effort of my fancy can to-night make anything else of them. "A yellow primrose on the river's brink A yellow primrose is to me," and nothing more. Perhaps that's right, perhaps page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 EVERY DAY. not. It's bed-time, and I'm glad; for George pre- sumes upon his few feet of manliness, and Harvey, poor little fellow, is-fretty. Tuesday morning. --The sun shines, and so do we; letters from father and mother; good news from them, and the hope that we are getting on bravely and happily. We will be brave, for I find that's a quality needed at home as well as on the battle-field. A queer missive from Betsy, in which, after describing in her own funny way her journey and experiences, she, adds, with much triumph in her wording of the intelligence, that her niece Betsy Jane and three of her children. are sick, and no nurse to be got. "Hazaniah's 'bout as smart chance of a man as Joe Battles. So, Margaret, I'm rest- ing, yes, resting." I can see her look of grim satis- faction as she puts down these words vigorously. Poor Betsy, this is her promised ease; but I don't know as it's my fault. A very successful day. Mrs. O'Brien relented, and came to iron for me. I took advantage of her fire, and roasted lamb and cooked vegetables for din- ner-all good and well done. Am tired to-night, but pleased with my success. Well, my mosaic isn't all to be of bright colors, and the dull pieces fit: in-and set off -the rest. Thursday, August-. - A blue, an indigo blue mark to-day. MARGARET' S JOURNAL. 93 A very good (I suppose) but very disagreeable friend of my father's came out from the city to-day. He seemed to consider it a personal injury that both father and mother were away, and at last seated himself, with a new book in his hand, in father's sick chair, with such an at-home air that I quaked in my slippers,--for I knew then he meant to stay to dinner. However, to make sure, as that festival was approaching, I timidly invited him to do so. He looked up at me over his spectacles, and said, "To be sure, child, did you ever know me to go home in the heat of the day? Truth and candor obliged me to say that I never had known him to do such a thing, and then I meekly added, "I will do the best I can for you, but Betsy's away." He looked injured again, but said, "Never mind, give me a cup of coffee, and anything you have." Now I had yielded to George and Harvey's com- bined entreaties and had undertaken to stuff and bake a fish for dinner, as George said, "It was tip- top cooked in that way," and Harvey had added, "P'enty of 'tuffin', Margie dear." I had left his fish-ship cooking in the oven, to see the gentleman above. I returned to find it all but burnt to a cinder outwardly. I instantly shut off the heat and cooled down the oven, and made the page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " EVERY DA Y. quickest possible preparation of the rest of the din- ner. But the combined efforts of George and my- self did not enable us to get the fish whole upon the dish awaiting it, and it was, when served, a conglom- eration of fish underdone, and fish burned, and stuff- ing and gravy, presenting altogether an appearance anything but inviting. My gentleman managed to eat a little of the best of it, a good many vegeta- bles, and for dessert, two slices of the loaf cake (for if ever there was an " emergent " case, I felt this to be one), bread and butter, and pears without stint, and coffee to finish with, till the coffee-pot was drained to the last drop. After this he had the coolness to tell me he thought he should take the next car, as that would take him home in season for dinner! After he had gone, I sat down in the big chair and had a good cry, out of which I came refreshed and strengthened. I thought over a few things which would help me in my work, and resolved to put them in practice. I would be more thought- ful, more systematic, and not undertake too many things at once. I am really very anxious to learn to be useful and saving at home, and I do not want to have this duty which is so plain before me always dull and irksome. Saturday. - Following out my new resolutions has helped me very much in my work, and another thing has helped me still more. When I first be- MARGARET'S JOURNAL. 95 gan this experiment, I fancied it would be play, and not real work. I left no margin for slow or no fires, for ignorance, miscalculation, inattention, and inexperience. Now, I know that it is real work, some of it hard work to me, and that I must expect it to be such, and grapple with it accordingly, so that I may master it at last. Then I shall take real satisfaction in doing well whatever I undertake in household work. 'Then I shall see my father's smile of approval. Then, too, I shall get some bright bits into the work that has sometimes seemed hopelessly dull and sombre. Wednesday, September -.-Two Mondays have come and gone since the first trying one chronicled in this journal, and though I have had to work and plan, and did get tired, everything has gone on smoothly and well. Since my unfortunate fish din- ner I have had two more unexpected guests to share our noonday meal. Mr. Gardner came in one day to beg a lunch, as he came home unex- pectedly, and found his cook sick, and nothing in readiness. How glad I was to share with him our smoking chops and nice vegetables, make a cup of coffee, and cut for him a generous slice of the "emergent" cake. He praised my cooking, and thanked me as cordially as if he was not always send- Lng us fruit and flowers. He said he was glad I didn't live upon slops. I told him that was forbidden page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 EVERY DAY. by my father; that he said if I tried the experiment, I must be willing to cook good plain food, not live on cakes and sweets, and bread and butter, to save a little trouble at first, and lay the foundation for dyspepsia. Next came my mother's dear friend, Mrs. De Lancey, of whom I did not stand one bit in awe, though I know that everything in her home is done in the best style of rich and well-ordered fam- ilies, because I know that she loves my father and mother for being just what they are, and not for their style of living. We had a simple, but well- cooked dinner, which she ate' with evident rel- ish. She, too, thanked me for my entertainment, and said I was getting a knowledge and experience which would be of more value to me than a fortune, " for a fortune will not always get you a good cook or a neat housemaid." A few days father and mother and dear little Alice will be at home. I love Harvey dearly, but I do miss my Blue Bell, my golden-laired darling. Am I too proud of the dear child's beauty and brightness? I must get everything in order, for Betsy cannot come home at present. I think I may close this journal by saying that really and truly (after the first week) I have enjoyed this vacation. I have enjoyed the MARGARET'S JOURNAL. 97 work, and I enjoy still more the power I have to make home, and the dear ones in it comfortable, if any emergency requires me to take a place in the kitchen. I am sure I can with truth say, that I have found some bright bits to add to my mosaic from my month's experience as cook and house- maid. A letter from father so soon again! M page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] vCHAPTER X. ISABELLA'S JOURNAL CONTINUED. August -, 186-. - "What remains now for us to do, Uncle Jeff?"I asked to-day. "We've been the length and breadth of the town, visited the light- house seaward and the old burying-place landward, explored the ruins of both upper and lower forts, walked around the mile square in town and driven around the ten mile square out of it, been down to the back cove westward and the steamboat landing eastward, and ' now my story's done,' and the town too, as far as I can see." "There still remains the eating very day to be done," said Uncle Jeff, with a mery twinkle in his i blue eyes. "Which occupation I'm not one bit ashamed of," I answer, " inasmuch as you will have such hungry air and such dainty food; but it won't quite do to fill up my journal with nothing but ' such a day ate. such a thing,' and another day, etc., and so on." "Blanche and Mr. Letsom are talking of a black- berry picnic to the islands." O O father!" said Blanche deprecatingly, " as if I should consult him about it." ISABELLA'S JOURNAL CONTINUED. 99 "He consulted you, then: was that it? A pic- nic we are to have, however, to enliven our city friends; and I believe we are only waiting for a pleasant day, and time to prepare a stock of provis- ions."- "Then we will set about our preparations to-mor- row, and fix upon the day after, wind and weather permitting, for the expedition," said Blanche. "Very well," said Uncle Jeff, and "Very good," said I, and so it was settled. I begged to be allowed to help in the kitchen next day, and for the first in time my life actually went to work in that to me strange region. Help, did I say? I meant to help, I am sure ; but after half an hour's hard work, in which I grated my fingers in- stead of the lemon and nutmeg, spilled the milk, dropped the bowl containing some eggs, and cut my finger instead of the citron, Blanche made the lat- ter performance an excuse f my withdrawal from active labor, and I sat looking abthe quick and deft workmanship which to her seemed so easy. When I saw the result of the united labors of herself and handmaid in the delicious bread, light and delicate cakes, juicy ham and tongue, I said, "I should think you had a regiment to provide for." Blanche laughed and said, "Wait and see, what an island picnic appetite is." O what will mother say? though why she should page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 EVERY DAY. say anything, I can't tell. Amongst other remarka- ble features of this paradisaical town, there is no hotel; and hence if strangers come to the place un- wittingly, and cannot be taken in in the one board- ing-house, they are obliged to depend upon the hospitality of the towns-people. Uncle Jeff often brings strangers home; and the night before our picnic he brought up - who, but Mr. De Witt! He, it seems, is a friend of one of Uncle Jeff's friends, and had a letter to him. I looked at Blanche to see if she was disturbed by this addition to her party. But no; serene and unmoved, she received Mr. De Witt with her usual gracious queenliness, and invited him to join us in- our i" berrying party," as she called it. He accepted it as if berrying parties were every- day occurrences in his experience. Uncle Jeff looked rather curiously at me, I fancied, when he saw that I knew Mr. De Witt; and Blanche made some inquiries about my knowl- edge of him. I said my acquaintance with him was slight, and that he was not a favorite of my mother's.' I did not know why, unless she didn't care to have me feel grown up just yet, and did not wish me to re- ceive attention from gentlemen of his age. Is not this the truth, mother dear? We were a merry party that started off bright ISABELLA'S JOURNAL CONTINUED. 101 and early the next morning. Auntie, Mrs. Halford, a pretty brunette in a suit of russet brown, with coquettish red ribbons in her hat, Blanche in drab and blue, and myself in my gray suit with varie- gated trimmings and hat to match, were the prin- cipal ladies of the party, though there were two or three girls beside not much younger than I, though I fancy seeming so. Uncle Jeff, Mr. Hal- ford, Mr. We Witt, Mr. Letsom, a sandy-haired fright who worships hopelessly at Blanche's throne, and Mr. Selford made up the party. "Well," said Mr. Halford, as baskets and bags and jugs (the latter containing, however, nothing but milk) one after the other were piled in, " do you expect that we are to be stranded on a desert island? I should think the cargo of the Moon- light was provisions and people, not people and provisions." "The people wouldn't be luch without the provisions by noon time," saii r. Letsom, who was busy arranging the party in the not very large sail-boat which did dufy for island picnics and moon- light sails. - An hour's sail brought us to our island, where blackberries abounded, and upon which there was but one house. The gentlemen carried, with many a joke as to the quantity, the eatables up to the old barn, outside of which, under the shade of- some 9m page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 EVERY DAY. friendly trees, our feast was to be held; and we at once, under Blanche's escort, betook ourselves to the searchfor blackberries. Here let me say, if you have never eaten blackberries grown on these East- ern islands, you know not the genuine berry, so large and ri6h and luscious! We did get hot and tired and scratched, and we did say, " O dear, what if we had to work as hard as this for anything but play!" but we had a right merrv time of it for all that; and Auntie said "It was like old times, when she and her brothers and friends used to go upon these expeditions, only it wasn't the old time either, for far and wide, on earth and in heaven, were those who used to be of their company." Then a sad, far-off look came into her eyes, as if one by one the dear ones of that " long ago" came before her. Auntie has a strange influence over me. Whence it comes I cannot tell. She isn't a bit of a woman's rights person. She never preaches nor moralizes, isn't what we Yankees call smart nor energetic, but is just the quietest, meekest woman you ever met with; and yet she makes me feel constantly what a selfish drone I am. Ah, I have it now I it's dear Dr. John's "every day," his " littles," and Daisy's bits, dark and bright, that make- up her life, and help on other people's lives. My kaleidoscope must be good for something, since it turns out such pictures as her pure unpre. ISABELLA'S JOURNAL CONTINUED. 103 tending lifih for me. But I forgot I was in the midst of our picnic. After we one and all had done full justice to the tempting viands before us,--such justice that Blanche, with a look of comic despair, declared there would be no surplus for Mrs. Hoyt, - we all - rested for an hour, some on the hay in the old barn, some in the cool best room of the farm-house, and fsome of the masculines under the shade of the trees. Then Mr. Letsom appeared with a petition for a walk to a point about a mile off, from whence a fine view was to be obtained of more islands and a wider stretch of the bay. Blanche, Mrs. Halford, and self, with Mr. De Witt and Mr. Selford, agreed to ac- company him. What a contrast between these two men, one so handsome and graceful and elegant, the other - well, just a great, awkward, overgrown boy. I hate boys. I hate transition states whether of cat- erpillars or bipeds. That's why I like a kaleido- scope for an emblem; one shake, and presto! you have a new, perfect-picture! If I had the order- ing of a world, everything should be done by the touch of a wand or the wave of a hand; and from madame's striking summary of progress within half a century; I may live to see something of the sort yet. Only what would become of the dear " every day," "little by little " sort of people? They would have to go to some slow-moving planet, like Nep- page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 EVERY DAY. tune, for I'm sure there'd be no chance for them here. But to return to our start. Uncle Jeff pointed to some ominous looking clouds, and mildly suggested the possibility of a thunder-shower, but who ever yet believed in a thunder-shower whgn they wanted a clear sky? So forth we went upon our tramp, "over bog and brake, through bush and brier." Is Blanche a manager, after all? She did secure Mr. De Witt to walk beside her, and somehow Mr. Sel- ford went with me. Arrived at a little silvery strip of beach, a path led upward to a high rock, and thitherward Blanche led the way, followed by the rest, excepting Mr. Selford, who seems to belong to the burr tribe, and myself. I thought I could reach the summit over the face of the rock, and pride and pique tempted me to try it. Half-way up I slipped and fell, knocking over my attendant, and found myvself in two feet of water, from whence I was helped out by the youth, who had speedily recovered his footing. I suppose there was something comical in my appearance, for the rest of the party, who hastened down, looked as if a good laugh would not be amiss. At last Blanche did laugh, and. said, "I can't help it, Isa dear, you do look so injured." "Wouldn't .you feel injured if you had an adven- ture with him for its hero? What is his name?" "Christian? I can't tell you. I've heard the *v 'ISABELLA'S JOURNAL CONTINUED. 105 girls laugh about it, as he always signs his name B. Selford. It may be Benjamin, or Benhadad, or Bazaleel for aught I know." "Umph, I'll give him one then,- Burr; when I say B. S., you'll know what I mean." "There's the shower-- father was right; come quick, and get under this sheltering rock," cried Blanche, "or to wet feet and skirts will be added an entire drenching." "What a color Blanche has. I don't think- color improves fair people. What does Mr. De Witt see in her that's so fascinating. She's much prettier at home when she is more quiet," was my pettish aside as Blanche grew merrier and merrier, the more try- ing the situation became. After the shower ceased we started homewards, and met Uncle Jeff in the cart path, coming for us in an old hay-rigging. What a tease Uncle Jeff is; he began to smile with his eyes, always the first tell-tales of mirth with him, then his mouth, and finally he shook all over with a low laugh, full of enjoyment at my adventure. All the consolation he gave me was, "Romantic young ladies are always meeting with adventures!" When we reached the farm, it was decided that we should return home at once, and there was no alternative for me but to borrow some of Mrs. Hoyt's antediluvian garments. I wish you could page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 EVERY DAY. all see the dark stuff dress, purplish red stockings, home-dyed; heavy shoes, in which I thought of sailing home; and finally the red and green Bay 'State shawl, Mrs. Hoyt's especial pride and delight, in which I was arrayed in place of my stylish grayait, with its pretty braid trimmings! Auntie, dear soul, who has a heart younger than most of us sixteen-year-olders, sympathized with me in the whole matter, unwelcome admirer and all. Only when I pouted, and said Blanche had been flirting all day with Mr. De Witt, she said, "You are mistaken, my dear child, Blanche never flirts. She has too much principle for that." I thought I wouldn't contradict her, so I had re- course to a fit of the sulks, whkich I managed to nurse till bed-time--hard work for me though, as it involved silence and a general quietness of man- ner. Margaret, haven't I kept to my part of the compact, namely, to be honest in my report of my- self? I'm going to be honester still, for I'm going to give my views upon -upon - love! the word's out--that is, so far as I have any views. It may instruct my Daisy, and it may enlighten my mother, who thus far has never given me any instruction upon the subject. Blanche followed me to my room, and told me how sorry she really was that my day had ended so disagreeably; she was sorry, too, that I had taken such a dislike to Mr. Selford. ISABELLA'S JOURNAL CONTINUED. 0^ "B. S. you mean," I interrupted her. "Well, as you like; only don't let father know that you make fun of him!" "Fun! it's real earnest to me." "He is not only such a good fellow, but such a very fine scholar," proceeded Blanche. "Has he engaged you as his advocate?" "Not a bit of it. I knew he liked you when he met you last year, and now - but no matter about that, it isn't a question of love, but civility." "If I'm civil to him, he looks so happy it makes me mad. If I ever do have a lover, I don't want him to look quite so blissful. I should prefer a shade of melancholy, as if he wasn't altogether cer- tain of my interest In him." Blanche coughed, and said, "You think, then, - "'To love, It is to be made of all sighs and tears.'" "Not quite, but - "' The lover shall be noble, With an eye that takes the breath, And the lute he plays upon Shall strike ladies into trouble. And to him I will discover The swan's nest among the reqds.' " Blnche laughed merrily, and said, "I wish you main find him, before your swan's nest has met the fate of poor little Ellie's. I didn't think you had a spice of romance in your composition, I didn't think you could stop to be sentimental." page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 EVERY, DAY. "O, it's only one of the changes in my life's ka- leidoscope. I may, with a few more shakes, come to admire B. S." "Far stranger things have happened. I heard you tell Auntie you thought I was flirting with Mr. De Witt. Do not think that of me. Some court- esy is due him as my father's guest- and--you said your mother did not quite approve of your receiving attentions from him. She would, I think, hold us responsible for anything of the sort." "Well, let that pass; he's going off to-morrow, and I'm glad; wish your talented friend would go too.9" "I believe he returns in the same boat you intend to take, unless indeed you will stay longer with us." "Stay longer! I'll go a boat earlier. I'm not homesick but restless. How can Blanche live here?" and this last thought I put into words." "' Why, this is my home. My father is here, and here, too,--an odd word to you, perhaps, -are my duties!" "O, but you seem to make such a good time out of everything, I hardly thought of duty." "Isn't it better to make a good than a bad time out of everything? Not that I deserve any credit for it: it's my disposition. Except occasional long visits West and South, here I have spent my life. What seems tame and spiritless to you, has its ISABELLA'S JOURNAL, CONTINUED. 109 charms for us. We are fond and proud of our little town. Our isolated position has its own peculiar pleasures: and we have books, papers, and periodicals: occasional visits from Western stars, like yourself, Mr. De Witt, and Mr. Selford; and the culture and good blood of our ancestors to remember. We think our townspeople have a character of their own. Is not that an advan- tage in these days of ' following the leader'? My father will tell you that, in his youth, it would have been difficult to find the superiors of the elder ladies in dignity, refinement, and culture, or of the younger in grace and beauty; and he has been much inll other places, West and South: and we hope that we of the present generation are not altogether unworthy our ancestors." And Blanche drew up her slight figure, and raised her head, with the conscious pride of the inheritance of good blood. An aside, not in the journal: - Mr. De Witt left in the next day's boat; and Blanche was quite relieved to find that Isabella's spirits seemed better after his departure,--that she treated Mr. Selford civilly, and did not object to his escort home. WPith the behind-the-scene privilege of narra- tors, these few words of Mr. De Witt's are re- \ . K . page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O EVERY DAY. ported for the benefit of those interested in this particular phase of Isabella's life:- "I shall be sure to find you out immediately after your return home, Miss Isabella." Commonplace words enough, but, emphasized with looks and tones such as Mr. De Witt had at his command, they had the effect to make every- thing couleur de rose to this young girl. J CHAPTER XI. THE GREAT THNG TO DO. LIKE a thunderbolt out of a blue and almost' cloudless summer's sky, her father's letter fell upon Margaret's buoyant spirits. All her bright antici- pations of a joyous reunion dispersed by this sud- den shock! For Dr. Lee wrote that Alice, while playing with a young lad in the neighborhood, had had a fall, and it was feared that her spine was seri- ously injured. Dear little Alice, whose glad beauty and bright- ness added so much to the life and joy of the house, injured perhaps for life, certainly for a long period! Then her father and mother, --how much this would add to their cares and anxieties! Betsy, too, the household friend and true servant, absent! O for her rough but honest sympathy! For her- self, Margaret dared not analyze her feelings, - dared not look forward to that future she had always pictured in such glowing colors for this cherished little sister. At first, the poor girl was almost stunned, and scarcely knew what to do. But she was too thor- page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 EVERY DAY. oughly imbued with her parents' spirit to fold her hands, or sit in vain and idle grief. To-morrow they would arrive. To-day the preparations for their return must be made. Everything must be done, as far as possible, to lighten care for the dear ones. The south room must be got in readiness for use, the whole house must be put in perfect order, and food prepared. By the time George returned from school, which had recommenced for him, she had her plans all made, and sent him out to secure Mrs. O'Brien, whose respect for Margaret had de- cidedly increased with the latter's improved house- keeping. It was with a heavy heart that Margaret went to bed that night, and even Harvey's innocent prattle failed to divert her thoughts from her little sister. A She could not help remembering how ofte . she had been impatient with Alice, on account of her child- ish restlessness and inquisitiveness. Then came thoughts of her- ready obedience to her father and mother,-of her perfect, trusting faith in their love and care; and she realized, as she had never done before, the full meaning of the Saviour's words, "Of such is the kingdom of heaven." Of such a spirit must she be now, obedient to, and trusting in, her Heavenly Father. With an earnest prayer for strength, Margaret at last fell asleep, and did not awake till the sun shone into her room. THE GREAT THNG TO DO. 113 l She had a long day before her, for they would not arrive till late in the afternoon; and, after everything had been done, she still had two or three hours upon her hands. Neither books nor sewing interested her; and at last she caught a glimpse of Harvey's sober face, and at once felt reproached that she had kept him away from her as much as possible. She took him in her lap, and told him stories and read to im, till she had quite chased away the cloud fro his usually, smiling, % chubby face, and, in so doing, sher lightened her own heart also; so that, when the carriage contain- ing her parents and Alice drove up, she was ready to receive them with that cheerful courage which always comes of self-forgetfulness. It was all needed when her father and a strange gentleman lifted out Alice, whose eyes were closed, and whose pale and suffering face sent a pang to Margaret's heart. Mrs. Lee followed, and spoke calmly and cheer- fully to Margaret. "Alice!" was all she could answer. "We do not yet know how severe her injury is. It has been impossible to make a thorough exami- nation. Your dear father hopes, as he always does, for the best. Let us hope the same. O, how pleasant it is to be at home! And you do look so bright and cheery here, so clean and nice, as I like 8 i page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 1 EVERY DAY. to see home look, with the flowers and sunshine, and dear old books!" Anxious days and nights followed. An attack of fever set in, and the examination was again de- ferred. Meantime no Betsy appeared. Dr. Lee sent a dispatch at last; and the next day she came in, hot and tired, and either cross or appearing so, as was her habit when anxious. "O O Betsy!" said Margaret, " why didn't you come before, or write?" "Mr. Do-little was too much taken up with loaf- ing and smoking to give me the letter till!ast night. I gave him a blessing when he did, I warrant you. You oughter written again. Didn't you know fire nor water, least of all, shiftless folks, wouldn't keep me such a time as this? Hope you've had enough of having your own way. S'pose the sasspan's sp'iled now for sure. How's your ma-and--that -blessed child?" And here Betsy sniffed defi- antly and then wiped her eyes, saying, "I got a cinder in my eye in them plaguey cars." So she had, but she didn't add what was in her heart, too. If Betsy had an idol in the world, it was "that blessed child;" and -after seeing her white face, with the lines of pain upon it, she could only say, 1"Well, chick, here's Betsy, to make your porridge for you; and you'll soon be pestering me in the THE GREAT THNG TO DO. 115 kitchen again, I'll be bound," and then made a rapid retreat to her own room, from whence sJ e emerged fifteen minutes later with red eyes and a - stern face, and began to work most vigorously in the kitchen. When Mrs. Lee came down, a little later, to pre- pare some gruel for Alice, Betsy said: "Now, Mrs. Lee, you keep to your nursin', an' ride out every day with the Doctor, an' I'll do the baby's messin' for her; an' if I want help, Margaret'll give it to me. She'll do. She kep' house real nice, and didn't spile the sasspan neither.'? "How did you leave yourniece, Betsy?" "Hum! she'll do, too, I guess. I left her settin' up in bed a fussin' over an overskirt for 'Liza. I couldn't help tellin' her she'd better look out for her underskirts fist. But, la! what's a gal now without her flounces and fallals, and feathers and bustles? I'd make 'em bustle in another fashion if I had the' management! Can't much wonder, though, if Four rich folks an' your middlin' folks must rig, that the poor follow suit, I'll be blamed if I didn't see one sight on my travels." "What was it?" "A whole family rigged out in all the colors of the rainbow, an' a mite of a gal, no bigger than our Alice, with a purple ruffled caliker an' a red alpaccy over-riggin', an' a brown hat with blue an' page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 EVERY DAY. yaller roses, an', true's you're alive, a pair of dirty- white boots! If that wasn't finery run to seed, I don' know what 'twas. . I thought of that blessed child, with her pretty ginghams and white dresses, and little, cunning hats. O dear!" -And Betsy stirred the gruel with one hand, and wiped her eyes with the other. The examination proved that little Alice had sus- tained an-injury of the spine that probably was in- curable, and that she must henceforth lead a life of suffering and inactivity. She,the pride and delight of all, was to be a disabled, helpless child; all the spring and elasticity gone from her limbs, - gone, too, the roses from her cheeks, the sparkle from her deep-blue eyes! It was hard for the parents to see before them this living wreck -of what was once so beautiful and gay, and to know that for her there was no future such as they had once fondly imagined. But Dr. and Mrs. Lee had a faith so clear and strong that it sustained them in this dark hour. As for Margaret, it was her first real trial; and it had such an effect upon her that Mrs. Lee's anxieties were for a time diverted from the pale, suffering Alice to her who was under a heavy cloud, and whom np reasoning seemed to impress. She listened quietly to all that her father and mother said to her, but made little reply to them, and was often obliged toleave the sick-room to give vent to her grief. THE GREAT THNG TO DO. 117 "We must be patient with her," said Dr. John to his wife. a It was a great shock to her, and her pride as well as her affection has received a blow. Besides, I dare say she is really physically ex- hausted. She must go to madame for a fortnight. The sea air always is good for her, and she will be quiet there. I know madame does not usually care for visitors when-lie is away from home, but this is an exceptional case. I will write to her at once, if you also think it best to do so." "By all means, John, do so. I dare say the housekeeping experiment tried hern more than she was willing to allow. She was to have visited Mrs. Elwell, you know, but this plan is much the best. I fear it will. be difficult to persuade her to go." "She must," said Dr. John, in that tone of calm authority which he was still old-fashioned enough to think it his God-appointed right to use when occasion demanded. The next day's mail brought a kind and cordial letter from madame, thanking Dr. Lee for applying to her in his need, and adding: "'You know, my dear friend, I love Margaret very dearly, not alone for her loveliness of character, but also because she is so like what I fondly believe my own Marguerite would haye been, had the good God spared hbr to me. And (you will let me say this) I am only too glad to do this little thing for the friends who page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 EVERY DAY. opened heart and home to me when I came back to my native land widowed and childless." When Dr. Lee put the letter into his daughter's hands, saying, as he did so, "We wish you to go at once, my dear," Margaret exclaimed, "I cannot go, father. I do not need rest. I should always X have Alice's pale face before me. And mother needs me." I "Your mother is, if possible, even more anxious than I am that you should go." ' I cannot, - I cannot!" she exclaimed vehe- mently. "It is cruel to wish it!" "Margaret!" said her father, with -a sternness that was very rare with him, and the more effect- ive on that account, "I did not think that you would be so selfish." "Selfish! I, do not see how it can be selfish to wish to stay at home and help py mother." "It is selfishness ill one of its many forms. It is selfish to wish to- remain at home in opposition to the known will of your parents. It is selfish to wish to remain here, and indulge your grief about Alice, in preference to trying, by rest and change of scene, to invigorate and strengthen both mind and body, so that you can be really an aid to us, instead of, as now, an added care." " If I must, I must; but, O father! I do not feel as if I should ever care for anything again. You THE GREAT THNG TO DO. 119 don't know how much I have thought about Alice, -what, she would grow up to be. She was so bright and lovely as a little child, I was sure she would be beautiful and attractive, and perhaps brill- iant." 4"My dear, God knows best where to place his jewels. Wherever he does place them, they will always shine to him: whether they do so to men or not is of little consequence, though I know this ' is a hard saying. My child, do you not think we, too, her father and mother, have had our pride in her, our fond hopes for her? Help us, like the brave daughter you are, to bear this grievous dis- appointment. And, Margaret, remember,'when I talked to you once of every-day duties, of the ' littles ' that go to make every perfect whole, as the drops form an ocean and the grains of sand a continent, you said, in the spirit of Naaman of old, 'If I only had some great thing to do! ' Here is the great thing before you." "I do not see any great thing for me to do, only more and more of the littles, that sometimes tire me just to think of, they are so little and so many." "A great thing for you to be, then,--submissive to God's will; and indeed a great thing for you to do,--rule your own spirit. We need your strength and courage, my child; and, that you may get both, page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 EVERY DAY. we wish you to leave us for a while. I promise that the dear mother shall not be overtaxed. We have arranged matters with Betsy so that she will help in the care of Alice, and have Nancy in the kitchen." And Dr. Lee kissed his daughter, and, in reply to her murmured "Forgive me, father!" said, "There is nothing to forgive, my child." The next day found Margaret on her way to madame, who received her kindly, and did not at- tempt at first to check her grief when she spoke of her little sister's state; for she knew it was a natu- ral feeling, and would be sooner controlled by pres- ent indulgence. But madame's influence, and the strengthening power of the sea, which always seems to rebuke weakness, soon had a cheering influence upon her. CHAPTER XII. FIRST FRUITS. "SABELLA, my dear, will you let that poor tassel alone and listen to me?" said Mrs. Gardner, with as much sharpness in her tone as she ever used in speaking to her idol.-- It was a short time after Isabella's return home from Seafort, and she was sitting with her mother in Mrs. Gardner's pleasant sewing-room, which over- looked the garden and a little belt of maples gayly attired in their many-colored raiment; and although it was October, the soft breeze that came in through an open window was like June. Isabella had pulled to pieces some flowers in a little vase, drummed on the table, then tore into minute bits a play-bill, and finally had seized the curtain tassel, and was swaying it back and 'forth at the imminent risk of knocking over several fancy articles which were within its possible circuit. "I'm all attention, mother, dear." "What has come over you of late? I should think you had been worn out by the pleasures of the gayest watering-place,'instead of rusticating in a page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 EVERY DAY. quiet town, such as you describe Seafort to be. You are restless and uneasy, nothing interests you, noth- ing pleases you. I'm sure you have, and can do everythingyou desire." "Perhaps that's the trouble. I ought to take a sip, at least, of the cup of adversity, such as Daisy, poor child, has to overflowing just now. I've high authority. for my present state. Shakespeare says, - "'What we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, v Why, then we rack the value; then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours.' Wouldn't it be good for us all if we lost our prop- erty? Isn't there a prospect that we may find our- selves on the downward side of the fickle goddess' wheel?" "'Not the least; your father's money is not in- vested in business, and he is no speculator. I do not know what you would do without money, and plenty of it, too." "O, I flatter myself I've a rich mine of unde- veloped resources, which needs only to be opened and worked to develop the most valuable ores. I have taste, and could be a fashionable milliner. I am musical, and could give lessons on the piano. I can do fancy work of all kinds, from crocheting to illuminating. And more than that, I've -thanks to FIRST FRUITS. 123 madame--so good an education already that I could teach either misses or little kinder-garteners." "Nonsense, Isabella, you do not know what you are talking about." "Let me go to Aunt Bolton's for a week, and do my fall shopping. It's full that before school com- mences, even if I go back to madame's." "Very well, I haven't the least objection." Even Isabella, trained from her cradle to think more of herself than any one else in the world, felt some compunctions of conscience at this ready as- sent, the more, as she knew her mother thought that Mr. De Witt, who visited her aunt in the city, was devoted to her cousin Blanche, and so did not have any fears in that direction. But these compunctions were soon silenced by the strong desire she felt to see him once more, and discover if his parting words had the meaning his looks and tones gave them. If not, she could be as cold as he was indifferent. If they did mean anything, why, then, she could still be distant and dignified, if necessary; though why should she be, if she liked him more and more on better acquaint- ance? Her parents had indulged her " every day" of her life; why should they restrict her now in a matter that might involve her happiness? As for any objection they had to Mr. De Witt, it was doubtless owing to some old-fashioned prejudices, page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 EVERY DAY. which they could never expect to have weight with her. And so, unmindful of the pretty little fables of the spider and the fly, the bird and the fowler's net, the charmer and the charmed, with all the rash blindness and self-confidence of ardent, rest- less, indulged youth in pursuit of new pleasures and new sensations, she went to the city, and put herself within the circle of influence of this man of the world; and soon she was completely charmed, much as the innocent, fluttering bird is charmed by the fascinations of a deadly reptile. Mr. De Witt wa, as has been stated, an acquaintance of her aunt's, and a frequent visitor at her house when- ever it contained any attraction for him. And it soon came to be very certain, if Isabella walked in the parks in the morning, or attended places of amusement in the evening, Mr. De Witt would be at her side. Why, it may be asked, if Mr. De Witt was not a desirable acquaintance for Isabella, did her aunt allow this intercourse? Simply be- cause Mrs. Bolton was one of those women who do not choose to inquire too closely into the ante- cedents of a man, provided he is rich, and reputed to be no worse than his neighbors. To do her jus- tice, however, she knew nothing of Mrs. Gardner's feeling towards him, or she probably would at first have been more cautious in allowing an acquaint- ance to ripen into intimacy. FIRST FRUITS. 125 As for Isabella, all thought of her parents' dis- pleasure was lost in the absorbing feelings that con- trolled her. What was this new world into which; she had come since her last birthday? O, surely, never magic turn of kaleidoscope before had re- vealed such wondrous beauty in life! Was the sky ever so blue, the air so exhilarating, the earth clothed in such marvelous beauty, as now? Was there ever a voice so rich and deep, a glance so tender and expressive, a manner so noble and at- tractive, as belonged to this man, who rendered to her such silent but unmistakable homage? How was she to detect the false ring in those tones,when she had never been taught to know the difference between base metal and pure gold? Her imagina- tion carried her a willing eaptive into that Elysian land which so many mistake for Paradise. But her heart, that sacred fountain of pure and holy affec- tion, was unmoved, although doubtless she fancied that' it had found its ideal. The week's stay became a fortnight. School 'had recommenced; her mother was confined at home with a severe cold; her father had- been in several times to hasten her return home, and still she lingered. At last came an imperative sum- mons from her mother, - so imperative that Isa- bella. feared sh j ad some suspicion of the .cause of her delay. page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 EVERY DAY. The evening before her return home, Mr. De Witt, who had been accompanying her in some of her songs, said: "I wish, Miss Isabella, I might venture to come to Rockville to see you; but your parents are dragons, who guard their golden fruit most carefully. Who can wonde? Had my little Elsie lived, no one could have watched a child more jealously than I should have done." "Your little Elsie?" "Yes, - my little daughter, - an angel! I was married very young, to please my father and mother, - before I was twenty-four. Society has little to offer in exchange for my child. As for my wife," -he paused a moment, and then continued, -- "she was only too good for me, but not congen- ial." Here he sighed, and then said, "Might I venture to call upon you?" "'I should think so- -with my aunt, perhaps." "Thank you. How much I thank you, you can- not know. A bright, fresh nature like yours, Miss Isabella, cannot understand the soothing and uplift- ing influence it has upon a world-tried man like myself." "Poor Mr. De Witt," said Isabella, a little later, almost unconscious that she spoke aloud. "He's about the last man to whom I should apply that epithet," said Mrs. Bolton. "Rich, tal- , ented, sought after - where is the poor . " FIRST FRUITS. 127 "He told me some of his history--some things. I'm sure he's not at all happy." "O," said Mrs. Bolton to herself, " that's his r6oe, is it? "' 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wished she hadnot heard it.' It'll be a good matchb and she'll be in our set. That talk about a broken-hearted wife was all non- sense. Besides, Isa 'll hold her own." - To Isabella she said, "Yes, the child's death was a, great shock to him. I dare say he is lonely, though he has so many friends." -"Aunt Bolton, can you tell me why my mother dislikes Mr.-De Witt?" "Does she dislike him? You didn't tell me that. However, it is probably only prejudice, which a more intimate acquaintance would dispel. A man like him always has traducers. As the world goes, I consider him a fine man, yes, a very fine man." "The world goes splendidly as far as I see it," said Isabella merrily. "I thought it must be prej- udice. My father and mother are a little old- fashioned in some of their notions; that comes of living in a half-and-half place, neither city nor coun-r try." Mrs. Gardner had at last received an intimation of the state of affairs, which, as Isabella surmised, was the cause of her peremptory summons home. - \ %^ page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 EVERY DAY. A friend of Dr. John's, who knew the intimacy of the families, informed him of De Witt's devotion to Isabella, and her apparent interest in him. He told his wife of it, and asked her advice. "Her mother ought to know of it; she is careless, and indulgent enough, but I know she would op- pose this intimacy with all her energy of will.': "A difficult matter to be concerned in, John, and one in which a person is likely to get the thanks of neither party. Unlimited indulgence, and amuse- ments carried to the extess of satiety, make but poor preparation for resisting a fascination of this kind. It is simply a fascination, though Isabella doubtless imagines she is in love. In love, poor child, and poor childre all who are caught by the false glitter of bright smiles, honeyed words, and melting glances, and for a brief period fancy that their dross is pure, fine-beaten gold! This experience of Isabella's is the inevitable result of her early training, or want of training. She is too earnest and' intelligent to be satisfied with dress and amusements, and craves something to gratify her undefined longings. What more likely to meet this craving than the devotion of such a man as De Witt? Girls of her age, of enthusiastic temperaments, must have some especial object upon which to expend the ardor of their youthful feelings. Happy the girl who finds this object in a dearlv-loved elder brother, a friend of FIRST FRUITS. 129 her own sex, a little child, or, as in our Margaret's case, an almost idolized father!" "You surely ought to understand your own sex best, Lizzie; but in my ignorance I should have said that most girls expend their surplus enthusiasm upon flounces and furbelows, and given enough of these, and places to exhibit them in, there wouldn't be much left for friends or our sex, except indeed as possible future bill-payers." "Which severe criticism upon our sex does not sound one whit like 'Dr. John,' who has 'the tin- derest heart in the world, the saints preserve him,' to quote Larry Flynn," said Mrs. Lee, laughingly. "I can't-help it if. I am severe. I was an easy- going fellow enough once, I know, and ready to believe there wasn't much harm in the world, and that the devil wasn't as black as he was painted. But the real life I lived in the army, put its earnest- ness and its sins before me in a way I shall never forget.' I saw in its .naked deformity the fearful result of the lust of power and luxury. I saw to what giant wrongs a little yielding, a little com- promise, had led, and it has made me rigid and ex- acting, perhaps. I thought I saw a land regenerated through its baptism of blood, its men and women ennobled and purified through the costly offerings they had lain upon their country's altar, hence- forth walking side by side, doing their work in life 9 page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 EVERY DAY. with earnest zeal, bringing up their children in the fear and love of God, and delighting to do his will. And what do I see? greater 'extravagance, greater luxury, greater self-indulgence in dress and dissipa- tion than ever. I see our young people with-their untold wealth of youthful courage and grand pos- . sibilities given up apparently to pleasure and vanity, visiting places of amusement and witnessing exhibi- tions, such as even abroad, with all the laxity of principle consequent upon old and tottering civiliza- tions, are only tolerated by the demi-monde. I see our fair, young daughters, whose price should be above rubies, their natural graces and beauty disfigured by an excess in dress which cannot but pain, if it does not disgust, all sensible, God-fearing men. I do not need'to speak of the exceptions to this worship of the false and meretricious. We all know and honor, -nay reverence, those who with quiet persistency keep on their appointed course of duty and love, never in danger of being drawn into the vortex of folly and dissipation, because they never allow themselves to get within its dangerous eddies. But to return to Isabella, pleasant or un- pleasant duty, your life-long intimacy with her mother makes it but right that you should warn her." \The warning was received kindly, {but Mrs. Lee- saw that her intelligence was a bitter blow to Mrs. FIRST FRUrTS. 181 Gardner. "She ,has deceived me. I thought De Witt interested in Blanche Monkton. O, this is cruel." Poor Mrs. Gardner, she was fast finding her rosy apples trnning into Dead Sea fruit I Not much could Mrs. Lee say to comfort her, for she felt there was little comfort to be found. When Mrs. Gardfier told this, her first real anx- iety since their marriage, to her husband, he could not at all enter into her feelings. "She is such a mere child," he said. : She is older at sixteen than I was at twenty." A ( Forbid it, then." "Yes, and turn what may be only a girlish fancy into a positive interest." :4 Reason with her." "Reason with a child who has always had her own way upon the most unreasonable and unreason- ing of subjects?" "More's the pity if that's the case. If a mother can't talk with and influence a daughter upon such a subject, something must be wrong." "O Herbert, I'm afraid it'has all been wrong, and that my theory of giving her a good time has spoiled her for self or parental restraint now." "Well, Esther, don't -worry; it'll all come out right in the end. Not that I will ever have De Witt for a son-in-law. I know too much about hiri to consent to that." page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 EVERY DAY. "It'll all be wrong, however it ends. To think of her fresh young nature coming in contact with a man of his stamp! O, how much wiser Lizzie was than I, when we talked over our children's future." * fY X to t CHAPTER XTTT. THE "G LITTLE BITS," DARK AND BRIGHT. MARGARET returned from her visit to the sea- shore cheered and strengthened, and ready to enter upon her home duties with fresh courage and energy. Her father and brothers met her at the station, her mother and Betsy at the garden gate, and the loving welcome she received from all gave her resolution to pass on to-Alice's room. She was lying propped up with pillows, and her pale, face shone, out of the aureola of her golden curls with the light of love and joy; and with outstretched arms she said, "4 So glad to see my sister." "So glad to see you, my pet of pets, and I've lots of pretties to show you, and ever so many stories to tell about the sea, and the shore, and all the won- ders I've seen and heard of. What! all the happy family herel " - Yes," said Alice, smiling contentedly upon an array of dolls arranged upon a set of shelves near her couch, consisting of father, mother, and chil- dren of different size and sex, with a staid person- age supposed to represent the family help, and which page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 EVERY DAY. bore an unmistakable resemblance to Betsy in hers dress. "They are all here, and, do you know, Betsy says that I may, call the woman who helps them all, Betsy if I like. Betsy is so funny. She says I may calP all my wooden heads for her if I wish to. May I call you Daisy all the time while I am sick?" "O yes, my precious." "Well, then, Daisy dear, to-morrow day I've something very much important to tell you, and I want your true pinion about it. No, not to-night. I'm so tired, and papa said I mustn't talk much. I got very wearisome waiting foreoud and the little hand tightened its clasp upon that of the loved sister, and the blue eyes were soon closed in sleep. The next morning Mrs. Lee went out with her husband, and Margaret sat with Alice, and began to tell her of her visit and the many pretty things she had seen, but Alice kept sighing and moving about restlessly till Margaret said, "Do I tire you, Blue- bell?" "O no, that isn't it, but papa said if I had to take medicine, to draw a long breath and down with it. So I've been trying to breathe and breathe harder to tell you something." "Well, out with it, darling." . "Daisy -do you know - that - that I oughter have my curls cut off, every tinty tonty one?" THE "ITTLE BITS," DARK AND BRIGHT. 135 "Alice, Alice, don't speak of it." , a 1 I must, Daisy. I heard papa say so to mamma. The curls get all tanglety, and it hurts me to have them combed ut, and they make my head, O so hot, and so off they must come, and I want- I thought they would make a nice birthday present for mamma, now I can't make her anything; if you'll only manage it for me; for, O dear, my thinks do tire me so." '"Yes, darling, I'll manage it for you, or papa will, so don't trouble that dear little head with any more ' thinks.' To-morrow mother goes to the city, and perhaps it can be done while she is away, if it must be done7" "It isn't must, it's oughter; that's what they said, though mamma did cry a little softly about it; but she won't cry when she knows it's all done with and that I don't mind. Besides, you know, my little book says, c Time and patience make the mulberry leaf into satin,' so it'll grow by the time I can run about." "Must it be done, father?" said Margaret, the first time she was alone with him. "As Alice says, it oughter." "O father, her curls are so lovely, so much a part of her, and I was so proud of them! ' " ' They, are very beautiful, certainly, and if she was running about, we should miss them sadly; page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 EVERY DAY. as it is, we must consider her comfort, and as she says, ' they'll grow.' I'll speak to Henry Jaques to come to-morrow while your mother is away. It will be a precious gift to her; and for us, why it isn't golden curls that make our Alice so dear to us." "Every day," said Margaret to herself when fin her own room; " this'll do for a good many days. If I bear this well, it ought to help me bear the little things. I can't stop to reason it out, but I do feel as if there was a good deal more in it than the loss, of a few lovely curls ; why I know I shall feel as if it was really a part of Alice gone. And then - and then, it's no use to pretend about it, I was so proud of her beauty, and so pleased when people noticed her, though I never wanted her to know it. I was even delighted when Mrs. Crawford, silly as she is, said one'day,- "' An angel face, its sunny wealth of hair In radiant ripples bathed the graceful throat.' But how silly Iam - her hair will grow. Whether it will be -the same ' radiant' hair is another question.', . The next morning, after Mrp. Lee had left home for the city, Dr. Lee broughKJaques up to the room where Alice lay on her little couch. Her father supported her in his arms, and Margaret held her little hand tightly clasped in hers, while Jaques pre. pared for his work. A THE , LITTLE BITS," DARK AND BRIGHT. 1S7 "Good morning, Mr. Jaques," Alice said, smiling- sweetly upon him. "How's little Rosa, cunning, shiny little thing? I got hurted very bad, and my curls are such a trouble! Please cut them off nice and even for my mamma, and take4one to your little funny girl, who said she wished she had my hair." ' To be sure I will, missy, and 'twon't hurt, you know, one bit, and you'll feel so comfortable." "No, 'twon't hurt my hair, I know -but just a little it does hurf now inside." While the curls were falling, Dr. John's eyes were moist, and Margaret felt at each click of the remorseless shears as if struck by a blow, and Alice murmured the words of a favorite hymn, - "God cares for every little child, That on this large earth liveth," etc. When she came to the line,- "He gives each child its mother," - she looked in her father's face with an expression that made Margaret feel that there was a brighter radiance than even in the curls, and when she fin- ished with-. ' , "The great-God smiles and reaches down, To take his children's love," - she said, "He is smiling now, for I love Him and everybody. Good-by, dear old curls, I do feel nice without them, and I am very obliged to you, Mr. Jaques. Please, Daisy, fold the prettiest in, a % page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 EVERY DAY. white paper, and write upon it, ' For mamma, from her dear little shorn lamb, and my love, and many happy birthdays,' and that's all except, 'P. S. I'm so tired, I must go right to sleep."' "Please put the paper by me, and don't tell mamma." When Mrs. Lee went up to Alice, she found her sleeping with a sweet smile upon her face, one hand under her pale cheek, the other holding a white paper, the contents of which Mrs. Lee could easily guess, as she saw the small cropped head, around which Margaret had tied a fine handkerchief. Alice opened her eyes almost before her mother had time to feel the pang which this change in her darling gave her, and said, "Here's your birthday present, mamma, and I do feel nice and clean." "My precious lammie," was all the mother could say. The curls were put away as a priceless treasure, and in their bright and silken beauty gave many a silent lesson to parents and sister while to " funny" Rosa Jaques they told of the little sick girl, who had remembered her. She did not cease teasing her father till he had a bracelet made for her of part of the curl, with a tiny gold clasp, and this she wore on ner dark wrist with manifest pride in the contrast. As weeks passed and it became evident that it would be a very long time, if ever, before Alice I. THE "ITTLE BITS," DARK AND BRIGHT. 139 could leavre her room, the family gradually settled into a routine conformed to the new order of things. Margaret went to madame's school twice a day for drawing and German lessons, and to hear lectures upon English literature. This gave her daily exer- cise and change, and kept up a habit of study and regularity without overtaxing either mind or body, and left a good deal of leisure for home caies and duties. Betsy had insisted upon dispensing with Nancy Hill's aid, allowing half a day's washing from Mrs. O'Brien instead. She declared a young gal in the kitchen was more plague than lelp; and don't you let on to your ma that I said so, but the fact is, Margaret, that growin' gal does eat tremen- dous, and your pa hasn't a purse that'll never give out, and I do grudge her her vittles." "Why, Betsy, what would mother say? "She's no occasion to say nothing. It always is a consolation to me to feel that if 'twa'n't for me there'd be many a leak at the spile. Your pa and ma is too free by half, considerin'." "Considering what, Betsy?" "Considerin' what goes in at the bung, and what you children need; but I'll see to that; I can't help their charities, but I can help their keepin' a gormandizin' gal whose stomach is made of rubber, and very givin' at that. There's no occasin to look shocked. I ain't one scrap stingy, but I know page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O EVERY DAY. where it's right to save; and you're so handy, Mar- garet, ever'since you carried your p'int about that visit to Betsy Jane's, that I don't want no better help, and you and me'll save all we can; an' we can save mor'n the price of your clothes in doing without Nancy Hill." Betsy's homely commendation was a great sat- isfaction to Margaret, who sometimes found her "every day" duties tedious and unsatisfactory, longing for' the great thing to do, which, now that her mind was composed to bear patiently Alice's misfortune, did not seem to come to her in their uniform life. Sweeping and dusting, cooking and nursing, studying and exercising, sewing and read- ing, a little of each, and the interstices of time filled up with the many-littles a willing .mind will always find to do, this was her daily round, and no one can wonder that a fresh, active spirit occasionally longed fpr some change. But the feeling that she was not only relieving her father and mother of care, but actually saving money for them, gave a new interest to her duties, and emboldened her to prefer a pet- tion to her mother which she had long had in mind. Alice's room had now become the family gathering- place, where each member of the family came with whatever they could collect of quiet pleasantness to cheer the little, patient invalid. Here Mrs. Lee and Margaret brought their sewing, Dr. John his papers I THE "ITTLE BITS," DARK AND BRIGHT. 141 and letters, the boys some noiseless games or favor- ite books. The room was quite large, and had been neatly papered and painted within a few years. The paint was a delicate tint of drab, and the paper matched it with drooping blue-bells sprinkled over it, and a pretty, blue border; but the carpet was worn and faded out of all its original prettiness, the bed, couch, and chair covers decidedly the worse for wear, and the plain white- shades unattractive to one who had to look upon them constantly. It had been Margaret's desire, ever since her re- turn home, to have this room prettily refitted, and now she thought perhaps it could be done. She always had a little quiet chat with her mother before going to bed, in which she told her of her interests, pleasures, and disappointments, or unfolded any little plan for which she wanted her advice or approba- tion. So one evening soon after her talk with Betsy, she said to her mother, "-It's the money question to-night, mother dear." Mrs. Lee looked disturbed, and asked, "What for, dear? Neither rose-colored ribbons nor a new hat, if I know my self-denying daughter." "No, though both have their charms for me, and I don't pretend that I like old things and made-over things as well as fresh, new, bright ones, and I don't believe that money doesn't'makelpeople happier. I *, v c- - page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 EVERY DAY. know twenty or fifty dollars would make me a great deal happier just now - as gay as a lark, in fact, when she sings her morning song of joy." "For what purpose such a sum?" asked Mrs. Lee, anxiously. "You might almost as well ask for a few hundreds, with any possibility of getting it." "Wouldn't you be quite as willing to pay me wages as Nancy Hill? Betsy says that I do so much that she is not needed, and if Betsy makes that admission, it must be so." "Certainly, my dear, but in that case I should be obliged to require you to take it as a part of your regular allowance, we have so many outlets for our ,means, and the inlets are narrow and trickle in but slowly." "O, I expect that after a while; but just now I do want to embellish Alice's room a little - a new carpet, some white muslin curtains, new furniture- patch, drab and blue, for the upholstery generally. Give what I save you in wages for this purpose, and I will give as much of my allowance as would get a new winter suit. I can do without one this year, and I would much prefer to." "I meant to get a new carpet for that room, and use the old dining-room one longer. The rest- yes, perhaps it can be managed, though I do not like to have you give up your winter suit; you've worn it two seasons already." TEE B'ELITTLE BITS," DARK AND BRIGHT. 143 "But it's turnable, and I have a large, new piece, and, thanks to the fickle goddess, large sacks are going out- small ones coming in. O, Ishall do." "You ought to have the money we save from Nancy; that would be a dollar a week after deduct- ing what I pay Mr's. O'Brien, and then her board amounts to something. I'll think aboutit." Margaret's face was turned away from her r mother, and she indulged in a broad smile at the re- membrance of Betsy's opinion of Nancy's tremen- dous appetite, and the elastic nature of he- stomach. "Well, as George 'says, it's good as settled we shall have a thing when mother says, ' I' see about it.' Can't it be done in a fortnight, before the dar- ling's birthday, in fact?" "Yes, if done at all, and it shall be a surprise to her. I meant to move her into my room for a week 'while her's was prepared for winter use. I think, if your father sees no objection, it may be considered settled." "It will be the first time father ever did object to any expenditure you approved, if he does now." "But are you quite sure you won't regret your share when you see your young friends in their new /hats and dresses, especially Isabella?" "Quite sure; if I do have any vain regrets, they will all be dispelled when Alice's blue eyes fight up with some of the old sparkle in them, as she sees page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] EVERY DAY. her transformed room. I wouldn't tell you before, mother, because I thought it would trouble you; but the other day when I was sitting with Alice she moaned fretfully and turned away from the window. When I asked her what hurt her, she said, ' That,' pointing to the window-shade, 'aches me,' and then she said half to herself, ' Drefful ugly- it most de- gusts me.' 'What, dear,' I asked. 'Don't tell mamma, because it would trouble her, but it's this old carpet. I don't care always, Iut some days I do, and then I wish I had a fairy god-mamma. Most tithes I shut my eyes when I feel bad, and make believe all kinds of pretty things,' Then the little dear seemed afraid she had said too much, for after a minute she whispered, "'Taint no conse- quens, you know; Daisy dear."' "My darling," was all Mrs. Lee said; but Mar- garet knew that her mother thought it was of con- sequence, and that her resolute will would override all obstacles towards making Alice's room a spot that should neither "ache " nor disgust her. CHAPTER XIV. SURPRISES, IT was now past the middle of October, and Alice's birthday came early in " November dull and drear," but Margaret determined that the sun should shine within doors, however chill the winds or /j leaden the sky without. How happy she was in thinking of the great pleasure in store for the little invalid, and how dili- gently she worked in school and at home that all they had planned might be accomplished. Indeed, how hard they all worked, Mrs. Lee in planning and cutting out, and executing also, Betsy in clearing and cleaning, George in making some pretty brack- ets, and even Harvey found something for his little busy fingers to do for the general object! Madame Merivale qame with her tasteful skill and ready workmanship to help, and even Isabella composed herself sufficiently to work upon a bright afghan for Alice's use. That is to say, she worked when the whim took her, but her mother lent her aid in the plain filling, which Isabella said was too humdrum to suit her. page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] EVERY DAY. "In and out, in and out, the same color and the same stitch, such a weary number of times, before even an inch of surface is covered! 0, I never could live as one half the world seems to, doing the same tame things over and over," she said one day to madame, who was making a little visit to Mrs. Gardner. " Yet it makes a beautiful whole, and without this tedious in and out, where would be the ground for your lovely fuchsias; and without the' over and over' people, where would be the comfort of life, lack- ing which, its beauty and variety is of little value ? " "I can't say,. I'm sure, but I do suppose it's just as well for those that like the filling up to do it, leing the beautiful patterns to those who prefer them." "Did it never occur to you in watching Mar- garet, what an exquisite taste she has for everything that is delicate and beautiful, how truly refined she is ?~ I do not know of any one whom I should imagine more at home than she in a lot where none of the plain filling came to her share. Yet how much of it she does, and how cheerfully, too I You see, my dear, the work doesn't all come in accord- ance with one's taste." "Yes, but Margaret is one by herself." "Not in that respect. I have known very many women with just as delicate, refined tastes as yourself, SURPRISES. J 147 Isabella, who would have enjoyed the elegant arts and all the grace and beauty of life, but whose lot was to do the drudgery which to you is the same as the dark monotonous filling. They did it as Mar- garet does it, so cheerfully that their friends sup- posed it to be accordance with their tastes." " 0, dear," sighed Isabella, "J1 do wish the world could go on without such a fuss. I hate to have to think everything out, and to be all the time wonder- ing if this or that is right or wrong." "I'm afraid, my dear, we make most of the ' fss' for ourselves, and as for the thinking, why, my experience has been that a little thinking all the time saves a great deal in the future, and perhaps saves something more - repentance." Idabella turned the subject at this point to Alice. Madame never forced her views upon any one, and we too must turn to Alice, or Alice's room. "' I seem to be left out in the cold in this enter- prise," said Dr. John one evening, aq he sat by his office fire, Margaret having just comejn for a few moments' chat. " Not quite, father, since we allow you to pay the bills." Part of the money to pay the bills comes, I am told by high authority, from a dear daughter of mine, who prefers another's happiness to fine clothes or idleness. But I mean to have a special finger in this page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 EVERY DAY. work, and I have a little project to unfold and ask your counsel about." "' O, father! how good of you, whatever it is!" "You remember my grateful friend, -Mr. Colville, who sent me this little cabinet for my surgical in- struments." "Yes, sir." "I met him the other day, and he begged me to let him do something 'for your dear little girl, Doctor John.' He added, with tears in his eyes, that but for mv influence his little children would still have been worse than fatherless, and more to that effect, till I begged him to stop; for when a man only does what is his plain duty, and pleasure as well,-help another up when he is helping himself all he can, - it gives one, or it gives me at least, an odd feeling to be praised for it. He begged me to let him make a full bedroom set of furniture. Now I know the dear mother values the bedstead, bu- reau, and table in that room far beyond the finest of modern upholstery, and so I honestly told him; but I said a couch, a light table to stand beside it, two or three chairs, and a something for the ' Happy Family' to live im which I would consult my eldest daughter about, wotld be most thankfully received. So if you will get up a little plan for the edifice that will accommodate that rather remarkable- assem- blage of dolls I occasionally see on Alice's bedl, I SURPRISES. 149 think we shl do. To be sure," added the doctor, merrily, "I'a not giving it after all." "Yes, father, you are, for you gave the kindness that makes Mr. Colville so generous, and you give up your objection to receiving favors,- and that re- minds me that madame said one day very seriously to mother, ' Dr. John has no right to be always doing and never receiving favors.' O, I am so glad. Of all the visions of delight Alice has ever had, none has equaled her desire to have a doll's house." "Well, dear, get up something simple, but suffi- ciently commodious for her family needs. I antici- pate a happy face, if a pale one, when the birthday comes." Never was house planned with greater anticipa- tions of happiness to be enjoyed from, if not in it, than this little structure, upon which Margaret expended her best efforts in drawing, and, her best skill as a housekeeper. When the birthday morning came,-which it did in a surprisingly short time, every day going by as if furnished with wings for the purpose, - Na- ture was no less kindly than Alice's friends. It was one of the loveliest of the Indian summer days; and the soft haze over the bright foliage of the neighboring trees seemed in harmony with the chastened feelings of the family: for even Marga- page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 EVERY DAY. ret could not forget why it was that such pains had been taken to renovate and deck the pleasant south room, - that it was to be to the dear child in place of green fields and shady woods, merry runs and pleasant drives; and that all the grace and beauty, all the joy and pleasantness, they could put into it, could never compensate for the loss of freedom to go and come at will in God's beautiful world, for the greater loss of fteedom to serve Him by serving others. And yet could not, did not, Alice serve Him through her very feebleness? "They also serve, who only stand and wait," was a favorite quotation of her father's; and had not Alice, notwithstanding occasional fretful moods, already shown a most touching and cheerful submis- sion to her lot? And had she not already helped her by showing her what was, after all, the only- true riches, - the wealth of loving hearts, whose affection springs from the All-loving, All-giving? And then, as she moved lightly about her accus- tomed morning duties, the words of one of her mother's favorite hymns came to her mind; and, as she softly repeated the last verse,- "The trivial round, the copnmon task, Woud furnish all we ought to ask, - Room to deny ourselves; a road. To bring us daily nearer God," - her mother came into the room, and said, "In the SURPRISES. 151 spirit of that hymn, all would be easy and light. Let us go up-stairs now to Alice. Your -father is ready for morning prayers, and she is awake. I have told her that she shall be moved this forenoon to her own room, and that her birthday gifts are there." After the usual morning service of' reading, prayer, and hymn, which was even more solemn and impressive than usual, Mrs. Lee and Margaret went to the south room, to see if all was ready for the little occupant. Let us take a look at it also, and see what love and skill and taste, and a little money, have done to change its aspect. The carpet had a groundwork of pretty shades of wood-color and white, with a running pattern of a bright blue over it; and the white muslin curtains were looped back from the windows, and the shades drawn up so as to admit the sunshine. The old- fashioned claw-footed round table in the middle of the room, and'which was a valued memento to Mrs. Lee of her mother, held a vase of beautiful hot- ,house flowers (Mrs. Gardner's gift), and several of Alice's favorite books. Over the bureau -which, with the toilet-table, was draped in white-hung a lovely chromo, called "Stepping-stones," represent- ing a timid child, in rustic dress and bare feet, hesi- tating to cross a little brook by means of the stones page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152' EVERY DAY. placed for that purpose. Opposite the couch was an engraving of the Madonna and Child, also Mrs. Gardner's gift; and upon the light-stand beside the couch was a pretty glass vase, with a single gera- nium-blossom in it,-Harvey's gift to his sister and once merry playmate. The large bedstead and the couch were covered with furniture-patch, matching in color the carpet. Various little articles of pret- tiness and taste were arranged upon brackets, or on the walls. Between Alice's couch and the wall was the dwelling for the Happy Family. Marga- ret's plan for the interior had been carefully fol- lowed, but the outside represented a miniature French-roof cottage; and the door, wiich could be opened or shut at pleasure, was made to imitate the front of a house. If Alice was much more de- lighted with this perfect little house than Margaret, Dr. Lee thought it would hardly be safe for her to see it at present. When Alice was brought into her transforned room in her father's arms, he told her to close her eyes till she was laid upon her couch. She did so, and, when she opened them, her head was turned from the side where her house was placed, and so that she could see every other object in the room. Margaret was rewarded for whatever of sacrifice she had made, in seeing the glad surprise, the rising color, and the sparkling eyes of her little sister as SURPRISES. 153 she spoke of one new thing after another, and, in her frank, childish way, thanked those who had been so kind and thoughtful. At last she turned her head, and the expression of wonder and perplexity that came into her face gave the impression that this crowning surprise was almost too much for her. Her blue eyes filled and her lip quivered when Margaret opened the door, and showed her the Happy Family, seated upon boxes, stools, and disarranged furniture, much as if just moved in, as indeed they had. The servant, dressed by Betsy's own hands in a style of severe simplicity, was in fashion and appearance so like Betsy that Alice laughed, and the spell was broken. "We shall have' many a day's work to do, Blue- bell, before we get our house in order. I say 'ours,' for I think of going back to dolls and baby- houses, as being altogether charming and delight- ful," said Margaret. "But who but where - did it come from, - fairy-land? for I know papa couldn't buy it." "Yes, dear, the fairy-land of gratitude and kind- ness. Mr. CQlville made it, out of love to father and kindness for you." "I. like that," said Alice, slowly, looking very much as if the blue eyes would moisten again. "I know all about it. I heard Mr. Colville tell papa once, when he came here, that he'd been too good page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 EVERY DAY. to him, and he'd never forget, and something more about being wicked and epox--something." "No matter, dear; you don't quite know all about it, and you mustn't worry that little head," said Dr. John at this moment. "Suppose we see how the room seems a little darkened, and try to rest before dinner. Mamma looks as if she was quite ready to sit down in the big chair -and rest, too." "Yes, papa, I'll try; but I'm afraid I can't for- get all these things and go to sleep. O!" "What is it, dear?" "I forgot, for one little minute, that I couldn't move, and I thought this afternoon I'd-just-fix -up-my baby-house," and here a sob came, which the little heroine tried to repress. "So you shall, dear, for it can be moved close beside your bed, and I will be hands for you," said Margaret. , 1! CHAPTER XV. THS PICTURE AND THAT. A GIRL only sixteen had a very decided will of her own. Isabella's whole nature revolted at the idea of restraint in the only matter that had ever appeared of any consequence to her, and when her mother's summons came, she returned homb unwill- ingly and ungraciously. Nor was it strange. All her life long she had been suffered to pluck and taste at her pleasure the sweetest fruits of life; nay, more, they had been gathered and held to her lips, till now when this, the most rare, most delicio: s of all, seemed within her grasp, it was denied to her, and she was warned to touch not, taste not. Again she was sitting in her mother's sewing- room, again idly toying with whatever was within reach of her busy, restless fingers; but this time there was an expression of positive willful discontent upon her fair young face, and in answer to the mother's mild expostulation upon her delay in re- turning home, she answered pettishy that "she was enjoying herself at her auit's, and as for school she had no intention of going the ensuing term." page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 EVERY DAY. v "Not going to school, Isabella; what do ou mean?" "It is not so very strange what I mean, mother, when you told me last spring I might stay atq ome this winter, and even madame does not favor con- stant attendance." "Only on the plea of injury to health does she favor leaving school. You might, 'at least, do as Margaret does, go on with part of your studies; only think how much else she has to do, whilst you"- "Margaret, Margaret; forever Margaret," was Isabella's impatient answer,; " if she wasn't a dear I should hate her, having, as- I do, her good deeds and good ways always brought up before me." '"At least, Isabella, you could be like her in one thing,-you could give your mother your confi- dence," and Mrs. Gardner's voice quivered, and her heart beat rapidly, while she waited in hope and fear,-- in hope that this wall of adamant which seemed to have grown up between them so sud- denly might be broken down; in fear lest it might. become still more impenetrable. Isabella was naturally of a frank, confiding nature, but she was now under the influence of that passion which so transforms some natures,- the passion of love, which, if real, and based on confidence and. es- teem, widens the affections, purifies, ennobles, and THS PICTURE AND THAT. 157 strengthens the character; if it is the false sem- :i blance, where the fancy-not the judgment-is satisfied, it is narrowing and weakening in its influence, indeed almost corrupting, inasmuch as selfishness is the parent of the most corrupting vices in the world. And Isabella was entirely engrossed by her own selfish feelings. She tried to persuade herself that her mother's feelings arose from old-fashioned prejudice; that it was not her fault if she was willful, when she had never been trained to be otherwise; that no one could judge of her own happiness as she could for herself: but it was all in vain. The still small voice which God has, given to all his 'children, to guide and save when friends and parents fil in their duty, would 'be heard, but it was not heeded, and she said to her mother after ,a painful silence, "I have no special confidence to give. I have made an agree- able acquaintance, and you are displeased with me. If you wanted me to be meek and submissive; and have no will of my own, you should have begun with me years ago. I'm not used to restraint, and I don't like it. Aunt Bolton let me do as I like. I am young, I know, but you have often told me that you loved father from chilhllood." "You do not, cannot mean that it has gone so far as to be a question of- of- love!" "1 don't mean anything. It's you who mean, . . page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 . VERY DAY. and who are chasing a shadow which I shall soon tire of, I dare say." For more than an hour Mrs. Gardner talked to Isabella, but it was talking in a circle: the same arguments and appeals used, the same answers and vindications returned, and no end reached; till at last Mrs. Gardner sank wearily back in her chair, with such an anxious, pained expression, that Isa- bella was touched and said, "You are borrowing trouble as I told you. - I shall soon weary of this enchanting turn in my kaleidoscope, I dare say. Don't worry and don't oppose me, and all will come out right at last." During all this time Mr. De Witt's name-had been carefully avoided by both mother and daugh- ter, and it was so still when Mrs. Gardner strove to obtain a pledge from Isabella that on account of her youth, at least, she would refrain from all seri- ous entanglements. "Entanglements? yes, I can promise that; " and the sound of carriage-wheels broke up the conference, for a servant came up to say that Mrs. Bolton was below, and to bring a card inscribed, "Rufus De Witt." Mrs. Gardner and Isabella went down, although the former was far from able to do so, and the visit was constrained on all sides. Mrs. Bolton found an opportunity to say, "Don't oppose this, Esther. De Witt is set upon it; he has told me so, and THS PICTURE AND THAT. 159^ really there is no ground for such prejudice; de- pend upon it, dear, its just the last remnant of your country breeding, to fancy every man immaculate. Half the mothers in the city are trying to get De Witt for their daughters." "I shall cling to this remnant, then, and I am con- tent to be a mother belonging to the other I half,' " said Mrs. Gardner; " your brother is opposed to any thought of such a thing. It must not be." It was unavoidable that at this time the intimacy , between Isabella and Margaret should be of a less confidential nature than formerly. There were fewer visits to the " sky parlor," fewer walks together, and altogether less intercourse between the two girls who had grown up side by side, and hereto- fore shared every joy and pain together. They had come to a " parting of the ways," and whilst Margaret pursued the old beaten track marked out for her, and which she believed to be not only the safe but the pleasant one, Isabella had chosen the more alluring, only to find that its gay blossoms and, luscious fruits hid thorns and poison. What could Margaret be expected to lknow or care for the present, all-engrossing subject- to Isa- bella,- Margaret, to whom the commandment, '"Honor thy father- and mother," was not an obso- lete injunction, but a positive duty; Margaret, whose little round of -life was so dull and tame in : - 'F. page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 EVBERY DAY. Isabela's view as to be utterly unbearable; Mar- garet, still a child at heart and in the simplicity of her tastes and feelings! Isabella had left school, too, for a time at least, and that was another sepa- rating cause. She declared she didn't care for English literature, music, or drawing. The very sound of literature made her think of musty old books, and prosy prose, and prosier poetry. She didn't doubt the Worthies were all well enough in their way and day, but that wasn't our way or day; that she found enough to think about in the present; that she could play well enough already to please her friends, and as for drawing, she never expected to earn her living by teaching it. This was in answer to Margaret's entreaties to go on with a partial course of study. ' Margaret sighed, andc said, "4But you must want something to do!" 4"No, I don't; I'm a drone in the hive, a butter- fly, or whatever other idle, careless, pleasure-loving thing you prefer. I'm as incorrigible as ever, only more so! I'm not virtuous, and never expect to be, in your way. And you? It's my turn, now. You look pale and worried, sometimes.. I don't believe that you find your mosaic work so pleasant after all. Pretty dull, isn't it?- bit after bit, over v and over, and over and over, the same things every 7 day! Why, I should be wretched if I knew one THS PICTURE AND THAT. 161 day just what the next would bring mei That's the charm of my kaleidoscopic life - constant variety, and constant unexpectedness. That again is, or would be, the charm of a lover. You never know how that dearest of beings will manifest his 1- regard." "' Would be' I hope it is with you, Isabella," said Margaret anxiously. "O, of course; but you needn't beg the question. Ihad the floor, and I wish to know about your way of life,- if it still satisfies; because you are not quite such a child as you pretend, Daisy., No girl of sixteen can be very childish. If you live in a hot-house even Daisies must ' hurry up' a little, and unfold their prim little quills earlier than their field sisters, and your father is always saying that the whole atmosphere of this country is forcing. & I've heard him use that very comparison. Now be honest and true." "To be honest and true, Isabella, my of life does satisfy, for the most part. I have my 'visions' once in a while, but on the whole, with working and studying and playing and loving, there isn't much time or room for air-castles, and the little bits and the over and over have a charm when put together I fancy no wave or clap of the hand nagic, or kaleidoscopic sort of life could give, -the charm of putting one's own shoulder to the wheel of diffi- page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 EVERY DAY. - .culty; the charm of creation also, as by the over :and over, one in time has a finished piece of work." "Please stop; you're too fast for me. I hate to reason things out, but I want to know what you mean by two things, playing and loving. Playing seems to me to be a very small portion of your life, - and the other - why you're only sixteen, and an uncommon, innocent little dear at that." "Visits, here and there, walks, drives, reading, fancy work, touching up a favorite drawing, and, at the risk of being thought very childish,. making dolls' dresses, and helping Blue-bell take care of her Happy Family, for the play part, and not such a very small part either; and as for the loving, why haven't I father, mother, Alice, the boys, and you, and plenty more?" "O - yes, that sort of love." "It fills my heart up to the very brim, ' that sort' does; it makes all my tedious bits and over and over pleasant to me, for the most part, as I said. There is a little unsatisfied corner sometimes, but mother says it is so with every thinking being; she says it is often just the reaching out of the finite towards the infinite." "What a profound thinker I must be, and what a much more virtuous person than I ever supposed; for I have so much unsatisfaction, and so much reaching after something I " THS PICTURE AND THAT.- 163 "Yes, but there are distinctions, I suppose, and I don't believe she meant your sort of- uisatisfac- tion, as you call it." "I don't in the least suppose she did," said Isa- bella, as if weary of the subject; for Margaret was so wide apart from herself in feeling that sh4 did not care to pursue a topic upon which they had nothing in common. A young girl in the very spring-time of life, look- - ing for and longing to gather its roses, might have been excused if more than a little corner of her heart had been left unsatisfied, for there were times when. the little things pressed hard one upon another: when her father looked careworn and her mother - anxious; when Alice was so fretful that it required' all Margaret's tender love and pity to enable her to be patient with her. At such times her journal would occasionally bear the record of a cloudy or even a dark day. This was rare, however, for her -. father and mother had early impressed 4ipon her, that "Seek and ye shall find, ask and it shall be given," applies to the spirit in which life is regarded as much as anything else; that if one sought light, light would come at last; if darkness, one might sit in shadow forever, however clear the sky to others. But it was at this juncture a hard time, or, in the phraseology of the day, "'a tight place" for Dr. l John, with increased expenses, growing boys, and . , , page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] EVERY DAY. means more on the decrease than the increase. But as he told his wife, their children were all with one exception well, Margaret was a treasure, Betsy a host, and God over all always and forever; and help is ever near to the faithful in dark hours. Help was near: but Dr. John had little idea that bread cast upon the waters in the shape of a generous act in his boyhood was to come back to him in the form of relief at one of the trying periods in his life. Bread cast upon the waters always does return to the giver in some form; not always, not often, per- haps, from the receiver, although sometimes this is the case, and this was soon to be Dr. Lee's expe- rience. In his youth he had with fearless indepen- dence taken the part of a younger boy, who had by his quick, ungovernable temper made an enemy of the bully of the school, and had exposed himself to his persecution, till John Lee had put a stop to it by brave and timely interference, which cost him at first a sound drubbing at the hands of the strong, coarse fellow. But the bully did not escape with- out tokens that it was not altogether safe to encoun- ter such a resolute little lad, and he never after meddled with either of the boys, who from that time, till a separation came, were fast and true friends. Since then, a score or more of years had passed, and Dr. Lee had neither seen nor heard from this friend THIS PICTURE AND THAT. 165 of his boyhood; in fact, supposed him, with reason for the supposition, to be long since dead. Yet help was coming to him from this very friend of his early youth, and in a way that would not compromise his independence of character. page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] CHAPTER XV1. GOOD NEWS. ONE morning, late in November, Isabella came flying over to Dr. Lee's more like her old self than she had been for a long time. The family were still at the breakfast-table, although that meal was about over. "Good news, good news, the goodest in fact; dear Doctor John, think of the best thing in the world that could happen to mother!" "Harvey Ferris?" "I knew you would guess it; he is living- has been heard from; mother always said he would be sooner or later. He is com-" "He has come home! Nothing but an actual presence could bring such a glow to your cheeks, such radiance to your eyes; let me go to him at once, my friend, whose supposed death was the one grief of my boyhood," said Dr. Lee, rising and steadying himself upon his chair. "' Yes, he has come, his very self- no semblance, but the real man; but he is not up yet, so let me tell my story; it's just like a story out of a book. GOOD NEWS. 167 "We were all sitting quietly in the library, when some one rang the bell. Mother said afterwards the quick jerk reminded her of Harvey, of whom oddly enough she and father had been talking. The servant said there was a stranger-to see father in the dining-room. He went out, and came back in a few moments, looking strangely agitated, and said to mother, 'Esther, can you bear good news?' Just as you answered, Dr. John, she said, 'Har- vey!' and at that he came in, looking as if he be- longed to us and had only been away $ little time. But mother I I never saw her so much excited in my life. O, it is too good; the old story, with va- riations adapted to the fashion. A rich uncle, not from India, but Japan. He's been months in Cali- fornia- was taken sick there soon after his arrival - found friends who knew of us, and told him that his mother was still living, and ever and ever so much. I know he's rich, because he looks so; and then he said, ' Well, Esther, you don't seem to need my aid; I hope my money will do my mother, and the good old man, your father, some good; and John Lee, the only friend of my boyhood, where is he?' "We could hardly keep him from coming to you at once; but it" was late, and mother told him you were not strong, and ought not to be surprised in that'way - that you had never forgotten him, and ever so much more; and he got up and walked the ^ ' ' ' . *. t page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 68 EVERY DAY oor, and said, c And this has been John's life, while have spent mine in money-making; but it's just ke him-- grand." "Isabella, tell me of him, how he looks and eems." "O, he's splendid! tall and stoutly built' though ather thin now, bronzed and bearded of course, rith character in his face and fire in his eyes. He lakes me think of some of the old Vikings, men ised to battles and victory." "Poor fellow, he has had to battle'it with him- elf, and to be what you describe he must have con- ruered." "He couldn't seem to believe in me; he kept lalling me to him, and would say, ' And you are 9sther's child!' And then he said, 'Your mother gas a true sister to me, and you must call me Uncle rarvey ;' and when I told him there was a ittle Harvey at Doctor Lee's, he looked pleased and ;aid--but I won't tell everything. Only you'll all lave to call him Uncle Harvey; and Margaret, rose-colored sashes and ribbons are prominent for Tou in this turn of my kaleidoscope; but I must go back. Dr. John, will you come with me, or fol- Low? . "Presently, dear;" and Dr. Lee sought his office, and with bended knees and full heart thanked God, who had not only restored an always loved friend, GOOD NEWS. t69 but who had restored to that friend his better nature - -- his true self I The meeting of these true friends, who had parted boys and met with a life-time of experience upon, them, cannot be described. Each had been.loyal in memory to the other, and the affection of man for man in its strength and nobleness is-something al- most godlike. Dr. Lee could hardly credit the reality of this great and joyful surprise ;but there was the same frank, sweet smile, lighting up as of old a rather stern face when at rest, the same dark-blue eyes, with fire such as is seldom seen in that amiable color, the same and not the same clustering curls of hair, once almost golden brown, now tinged with gray; but there was in place of former impet- uosity and passion a determined calmness, which showed that Harvey Ferris had indeed done fierce battle with the rebellious spirit within, and con- quered. And again he had to tell his story. How that a fit of passion, and the one-sided view he took of his mother's treatment, drove him to sea; how he was so unfortunate as to be thrown much in contact with a sailor who had known nothing of women in his life but the' dark and terrible side, that makes them seem fiends in human shape, and who did not hesitate to confirm Harvey's hardest feel- page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 ETERY DAY. ings against his mother; and but for one memory almost made him subscribe to old Tom's graphic, if not flattering description of the sex, "Women's tof three sorts, as I've found em: devils of the black- est, some on 'em, fools some, and hearts of stolne the rest. Belike, your mother belongs to the last." How this man had aided him, when a poor, friend- less boy died in port, to exchange places with him so far as to make his distant friends believe that he, Harvey Ferris, was dead; how he had made sev- eral voyages, never returning to his native country; how at last his industry and ability had secured him a situation in a mercantile house in Hong Kong; how he rose step by step, till at last he be- came a partner, and was sent to establish a branch house in Yokohama; how he sometimes thought he would go home, but put it off year after year; how when he would hear, as he had means of doing, from his friends at home, he would almost decide to return, and some trivial thing would prevent; how in his case the text, " a little child shall lead them," jwas verified, since a simple verse of a hymn learned and repeated at his mother's knee, from a little girl's lips, proved at last the impelling cause of his turning his face homeward. He gave a detailed account of his sickness and adventures after his arrival in California, which was in itself a romance; and every word was devoured . GOOD NEWS. 171 with eager interest by his attentive listeners, and by none more eagerly than Isabella. As she'looked at her uncle,- and watched the varying expression of his fine face, and listened to words which betokened uncommon strength of character and will, a strange feeling came over her,- a presentiment that by or through him her destinv was to be controlled o ruided. This feel- ing was strengthened by the searching glances he iH cast upon her from time to time, and at last became so strong that she moved her seat, so as to be no longer within range of his observation. When he had finished his story, he said, "I have come back to make what 'amends I can for years of mistaken silence and neglect. When I was sick, and taken care of by strangers, - most kindly taken care of, ;e too,--I remembered a severe illness far back in my early childhood, and my mother's tender care of me, although even then her caresses seemed given by stealth; and then, and not until then, did I fully realize the wrong I had done her." "Harvey," said Dr. John, ' I want you to tell me how you learned to govern yourself.' . "I went to a hard ehough school to learn even that difficult lesson. In the first place, on ship- board I found my chance for good treatment and promotion depended upon my own behavior. Now a self-willed boy doesn't find prompt, unquestioning page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 EVERY DAY. obedience the easiest thing in the world; but I did obey promptly arid silently, and kept the fire of rebellion within. It is just as true of your temper as it is of fire, - if you smother it, it will in time die out. I mean that excess of temper which is a curse to a man or boy. When I became a clerk, I found the same need of self-control; and, when I was in my turn a master of others, I found I needed it still more. It was hard to chain down, to repress, to smother such a fiery demon as possessed me at times, and I didn't always do it; and I got into difficulties, and came near losing the best sit- uation I ever had, and that gave me a -fright that set me to thinking. I found I was in the habit of controlling myself upon great occasions, but that a small matter would often excite me to such a degree that it really was true, 'Behold how great a fiLe. a little matter kindleth ' Then I set myself to work to take care of the little stings and irritations; and when I found the astonishing help it was to me, and how, when the great trials came, I was able to withstand them with far less effort than of old, I realized fully how the whole comfort and prosperity of life depends upon little things constantly heeded; how that if, as in the familiar illustrations, ' Taking care of the pence, the pounds would take care of themselves,' ' The pressure of a finger would, prove the salvation of the inhabitants GOOD NEWS. 173 of a valley from destitution and death,' 'Quenching a spark would preserve a city from the flames,' stili more, a little self-control might save from worse des- olation than food or fire could bring: and--I am not ashamed, but proud to own it- -I also remem- bered the teaching of my childhood, and I sought strength from God, without which strength I had again and again found my own will powerless." Here he paused, and Dr. John said with a smile, "My theory works, then, for the rich merchant in China or Japan as well as for the child or man in other climes and humbler avocations. It is every day's life that makes or mars the man or woman; and it is probably the most insignificant events of every day that make the strongest mark upon the character." "Yes, I am sure of that," said Mr. Ferris; " but it's hard to convince large-eyed youtht of that fact. For the young, it is the great thing, the giant stride, the eagle flight, that attracts; forgetting the lessons of God and Nature, learned from tiny seeds and water-drops and grains of sand. But, John, we had our period of scorn for the humble steps, the small beginnings. Don't you remember the dam we began, and left unfinished because it required so much patient labor?" "Yes, indeed, and the bridge and the wharf and the hut,-all monuments, while the ruins stood, of page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 EVERY DAY. the boys who began and were not able to finish, or who did not count the cost, in will, of their under- takings. But it will be as well for me to remember that minutes make hours, and that while I listen to you, old friend, my patients may be impatient." "Old friends don't come back ' every day-' from Japan, rich and grand and lovable; that's one of the things every day don't bring," said Isabella. "O heedless child! hasn't our hero, our Viking, just told you it is, or was, ' every days' that has made him what he is? 'Every day doesn't bring us heroes, but every day helps "to make them every- where out of fairy-land. When shall I see you, Harvey?" "I shall go to Maplewood this afternoon, find out your sister, - whom Esther tells me is as good and saint-like a woman as she was child, --get her to break the tidings of my existence to my mother, and then--and then it will not be my fault if the past is not atoned for,--that is, so far as any wrong past can be atoned for." ^^ , ' CHAPTER XVIL - MOTHERI AND SON. THERE were no witnesses to the meeting be- tween the mother and son, whom a mistaken sense of duty on one side, and boyish ifhpulse and hot temper on the other, had separated more than a score of years previously. But all true hearts can picture what words are far too poor to describe. They had parted, she a stern, inflexible woman, keeping her deepest emotions close locked within her heart; he a hot, willful, impulsive boy. They met, she, bowed with years and secret sorrow, her white hair giving to her the tender glory of advanc- ing age, and softening every feature and expres- sion; he, a calm, resolute, self-contained man, with manhood's noblest beauty-a conquered will-- stamped upon his face. This was the change that every-day life had wrought iS mother and son, - its attrition wearing off and smoothing harshness and toughness, like the ( continual dropping of water upon stone, with the one; and with the other enlarging, developing, and strengthening a noble nature. page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 EVERY DAY. Harvey Ferris was not a man to half do any- thing; and he was too much of a man not -to -freely confess to his mother the sin of his boyhood in rebellion and desertion, and to ask her forgiveness in that simple, child-like manner which is the true sign of a manly, Christian heart. She, too, had her confessions to make; and, at the close of their interview, she not only felt that this her son, who was lost, had been found again, but that she never had really had a son before; for never before had heart spoken to heart, and soul responded to soul. "It is so good to have found you, mother, after all these years of feeding upon husks, Must we be separated? I hope to find some trustworthy young man to go out to Japan for a year or, so in my place. If I can, I shall at once establish a branch house in the city, and live there or -in Rock- ville. Will not you share my home, -you and the good old father, who looks as if he would never know where he was if you give him his books and a quiet corner?" "You are mistaken, Harvey. Mr. Halford would pine for his own study and its peculiar be- longings; for his quiet walks by the river-bank; for his especial old elm-tree, under which he sits and reads or thinks, till I believe earth is almost heaven to his pure soul. No, my duty lies with / MOTHER AND SON. 1" him, my happiness too; and you will come as often as you can, and gladden us with your presence, and then, my boy, -for boy you will always be to me, --you will soon find a younger and fairer compan- ion for life than your old mother." "I am not so sure of that, mother. The women that I see impress me oddly enough. Such queer, street-cleaning machines some of them appear to be; anrd most-- except, indeed, Lizzie Lee - seem given over to dress and fashion. Even Esther is partly spoiled herself; and she is trying to spoil that beautiful, capricious sprite of hers also." "My fault in part," said Mrs. Halford sadly; " at least, years ago Esther said, if she was over-fond of dress and too indulgent to her child, it was because I was so strict with her. Ah! if we only knew how far and deep an error or a mistake spreads! 'I "Mother, when I came to myself, and was clothed and in my right mind after that early period of wandering, I remembered your early teachings; and you know I took my Bible with me when I ran away, and I used to read it, and one text seemed especially comforting to me. It was,' Forgetting the things that are behind, press forward,' etc. The past [ could not undo - theqpresent was mine; in that I rnight hope to atone for the past. A good text, a good remembrance for us all. As for Esther as I remember, her, she always had a passion for dress. 12 :! ^ page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 EVERY DAY. She will live to see, as I have done, that after all every soul has light given it to walk by, and that she sinned against that light in training a child to be selfish and self-indulgent. But to return to my plans, you will let me fit up the southwesterly room for my own, and I promise you your returned prod- igal will often use it." -"Yes; but you must not speak of yourself in that way, Harvey, if you really wish me to forget the things that are behind." "I will not. I don't believe in it either, this forever raking up old faults and errors." Harvey Ferris spent a week with his mother, dur- ing which time he not only gave her a sense of hap- piness such as she had never known, and gladdened the heart of the silent old man, who even laid by his darling books to listen to tales of adventure by sea and land, but also won golden opinions from tile village people by his interest in their town, and his offer to aid in a project on foot for a free library. Upon his return to Rockville he unfolded his plans to Mrs. Gardner, and questioned her as to her own life since he had left home. She told him of her grief at his departure, and the want of sympathy she had experienced till her ngagement to Herbert Gardner; of her subsequent bappy and prosperous career; of her joy and pride in her child, and the delight she had been to them from her babyhood up to the present time. MOTHER AND SON. 179 "And yet, Esther, there are lines of care fipon your face which your bright and prosperous course of life does not seem to warrant. You would ex- pect to find such upon a tossed and weather-beaten wanderer like myself; but you, with a devoted hus- band, a lovely daughter, and hosts of friends, what can you ask more? What, or where, is the skele- ton at your feast, the sepulchre in your garden?" Esther gladly told him all her anxieties respect- ing Isabella, only withholding Mr. De Witt's name, and even acknowledged her fears that she had been too weakly indulgent to her in her childhood. "I can understand a certain kind of over-indul- gence to a child, Esther, growing out of your own repressed and restricted childhood, but indulgence in matters involving character and happiness, perhaps respectability, I cannot understand. It seems to me almost incredible that you should have allowed an affair of this kind to go on under your own eyes without taking stringent measures to put an imme- diate stop to it, if the man is really as objectionable as you represent, although you are rather indefinite in your charges and have not even told the name of the obnoxious individual." "Now I think of it, Harvey, you may know something of him; he has, or had, some business connection with a house in Hong Kong. De Witt is his name." *o page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 EYVERY DAY. De Witt! surely not Rufus De Witt?" "The very same. Do you know anything of him?" "Esther, how could you be so careless of this beautiful girl? I know that of Rufus De Witt that should forever exclude him from decent society; I know that of him that will, if I mistake not, send him abroad or where he will not be likely to meet me. I did know something of him as a business man, not strictly in his favor; but whilst I was in California what seemed chance brought me into contact with a very interesting young woman who supposed herself to be his wife. I learned that she -was not, and it fell to my lot to tell her of the vile imposition that had been practiced upon her. Such another heart-broken creature I never saw, and when I left she was apparently going in a rapid de- cline. Her case excited uncommon sympathy, even in that fast section of our fast country. I thought it was, and it seemed such, a mere chance, that led me to a knowledge of her. I now see, like many another event in my life, it was the directing hand of God. How could I think there was a link in that far region connecting me with the fortunes of your daughter--a girl whom I had never seen! Esther, again I must say, how careless you have been. Are all mothers of this period so thought- less? If so, give me the sterner discipline of a former generation, much as I rebelled against it." MOTHER AND SON. 181 "Harvey, do not judge me too harshy. I indulged Isabella as a child, in what I considered harmless things, wishing to have her life bright and joyful; never dreaming I was fostering willfulness and self- ishness, and never discovering that I had done so till she was ensnared by the baleful fascinations of this man. Then I found to my utter dismay that the child was a woman, and that former wayward- ness had become resolute will." "Link by link, day by day, we forge the chains for ourselves or others that will require a mighty power in the future to break. Poor Isabella, I am sorry for her, but she will bend for a while under / this disappointment, not break, and by and by she will be the braver and stronger for it. You must tell her at once whatever you see fit of the man whom she sees only in the light of undisciplined, girlish fancy. Iwill see Mr. De Witt." Opportuni$ to see him was not wanting, for Mr. Ferris had scarcely finished his last sentence before the door opened, and a servant admitted*Mr. De Witt. Mrs. Gardner bowed coldly and immedi- ately left the room, and the two men stood face to face.' Mr. De- Witt found no words in which to address Mr. Ferris, ]ut stood looking at him with an ex- pression of mingled fear and astonishment. "I am Mrs. Gardner's brother, Mr. De Witt. page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 EVERY DAY. After what passe;bsetween us in San Francisco, you will surely deem that knowledge a sufficient reason for giving up your visits to this house, and all inter- course with any member of this family." "O yes, certainly, certainly. You doubtless have no interested motives in thus espousing the cause of distressed damsels." "I have every motive to do so that should prompt a man of honor and feeling," replied Mr. Ferris, utterly ignoring the sneer and taunt of De Witt's words. "I will also inform you, Mr. De Witt, that I was a partner in the house of Lofimer Brotfers, Hong Hong, in the year eighteen hundred and sixty ----." "H-I was not aware of that fact," stammered De Witt. "I shall soon go abroad--indeed at once. I will not attempt to see your niece- and you will be merciful, Mr. Ferris." "Not with such mercy as you have shown to the weak, defenseless, and trusting, shall I visit you, Rufus De Witt! Go abroad at once, and unless needful in the cause of injured innocence, your name shall never pass my lips." CHAPTER XVIII. BETSY IN A NEW CHARACTER. THE first visit Mr. Ferris made after his return from Maplewood was to his friend Dr. Lee. He was not sorry to find that both Dr. and Mrs. Lee had gone out for a drive, and that Margaret was at home. He had become much interested in this fresh, natural young girl, so like his ideal of early womanhood, and which, since his return to his mnative land, he had almost believed was to be an ideal only. The women whom he hadseen in the countries which had for so many yearis been his home were not,-with a few exceptions, such as to inspire much respect or enthusiasm for the sex. But among other sacred memories of his early life in Maplewood, he had treasured that of innocent, e blooming, happy girlhood, embodied to him in the person of his friend's sister, Mary Lee.' It did not matter to him that she was some years: his senior. The first object of a boy's en usiasm and devo- tion is more likely to be his senior than- his junior, and in his case Mary Lee's kindness to and interest for him at that turbulent and often unmannerly age, page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 EVERY DAY. when even parents sometimes lose their patience and forbearance, made an ineffaceable impression upon his fancy, and touched his heart in such a way as to keep ever fresh before him, notwithstanding sailor Tom's adverse influence*the ideal of girl and woman in its highest and purest-type. In Margaret Lee lie thought he saw again the Mary Lee of his youth. There was the same fresh, natural, ear- nest manner, the same gentle ways, and the same forgetfulness of self and devotion to others. There was, besides, more beauty and more vivacity in the niece than even his partial memory could attribute to the aunt. Of Isabella he was very fond, none the less so, perhaps, that her very faults and weaknesses seemed to require his guiding hand in their control; but he could not approve of her mode of life, nor of those of whom she was a fair representative. Could it be that women, - whom he looked upon as the redeemers of the world from vice and follye through their wide and powerful influence, flowing forth silently, but none the less effectively, from the sacred sanctity of home,--could it be that they were now represented by the hundreds of women whom he daily met in the city, and whose beautiful faces and fine figures seemed to be used only to set off and display an astonishing amount of hair-work and millinery and some mysterious sort of femi- BETSY IN A NEW CHARACTER. i 185 nine upholstery? Could it be that the women who night after night crowded theatres, operas, balls and parties, and every conceivable place of amusementj were the women of his native country, -the women whom he had thought of as household divinities, and not as walking or driving fashion-plates? Perhaps by and by he should be able to solve this riddle, and meantime he would study the character of this child of his early friend, sure that she at least was a type of true womanhood. He wished, too, -to find out through Margaret something more of Dr. Lee's circumstances, and perhaps of his feel- ings in regard to certain plans he had in view. It had not taken Betsy, with her native shrewd- ness and quick perceptions, long to weigh Mr. Ferris in the strict balances of her judgment, and she did not find him wanting. Accordingly, when she opened the door to him upon the occasion of his visit, it was with a genuine smile of pleasure upon her homely old face. "Margaret's in: she's up-stairs with that blessed child she sets her eyes by, but it'll do her good to come down and see you, and I can leave my work a while. The Doctor and Mrs. Lee, for a wonder, are just gone out for a bit of pleasure. Sit down, an' I'll let in the sun; must seem odd to you in these parts. Mrs. Lee says you're an old friend of the Doctor's, an' if you could make him rest a little page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 EVERY DAY. you'd be a friend indeed. But there ain't a child, nor pesky old Irishman about, if they hev a pain in their toes or a scratch on their fingers, but what must come after him, an' he'll go an' go till he drops. Says I, let the 'prentice hands at doctoring try their luck on 'em. But la--Dr. John's just as tender-hearted as that child of his up-stairs, an' she wouldn't hurt a fly--a great waste of tender- ness both sides -for the world'd get on much better without flies an' Irishers, in my opinion." Mr. Ferris laughed, and evidently thinking. this too good an opportunity to lose, said, "You must remember, Miss Priam, that the flies are scavengers, and that the Irishmen build our railroads, and do work your friend or brother would scorn to do. As for Dr. John, perhaps I can persuade him to go South with me by and by. It is cold here, and I shall need a physician's advice." "You don't come it over Dr. John that way. If you want to help him, you'll have to do it on the square. He's proud some ways, but once he sees the rights of a thing he hain't got none of the fashionable kind of pride that'll refuse- a favor from a friend, and then forge a note and ruin him. But you just set Margaret a-going- on her father; she just worships him." And Betsy went up-stairs, and taking a book out of Margaret's hand, out of which she was reading to Alice, said authoritatively, BETSY'IN A NEW CHARACTER. 187 "(Your pa's friend, Mr. Ferris, is down-stairs, gnd wants to see you. He's a gentleman, he is, which is curus, seeing he's lived so much with them pig- tailed, bead-eyed Chinamen and Japan folks. He needn't mind to call me Miss Priam, though 'twas polite in him. Betsy sounds more intimate and family-like. There, go; you needn't look in the glass a-prinking for that old man. He likes staid old folks; 'twas much's ever I could do to get away." And Betsy, having called up the roses into Margaret's face, sat down beside Alice with a self- satisfied chuckle, and went on talking half aloud in this- strain: "Shouldn't wonder, Betsy Priam, if you had killed two birds with one stone this time. v Set Margaret talking about her father, and 'twon't be long before he'll find out all he wants to know, . an' then -let's see; Margaret's a pooty gal's ever I set my two eyes on, an' he's not an old man, though I said so a-purpose, cause, though his comin' back just now's a special providence, I think it's no harm to help special providences once in a way, Let me see, Dr. John's about forty-two, an' I heerd him say Mr. Ferris was younger. Guess he's about thirty-six: sixteen from thirty-six leaves - eighteen- what am I thinking on? I never was quick at figgers -leaves twenty, you old goose, There's many a gal married a man twenty years older than they was, and been real happy. An' iA w x ' t page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 EVERY DAY. ever there was a family that a little money'd help along, it's this family, and they deserve it, too. Shouldn't wonder if that comes to pass, but what"- but here Betsy, like the milk-maid in the story,*let her imaginary pail fall off her head, for hearing a sound she looked towards the couch, and encoun- tered Alice's wide-open blue eyes fastened upon her with astonishment, almost terror, while she ex- claimed, with trembling earnestness, "Betsy, is you insane?" "You blessed child, what a question. It's just your stupid old Betsy figurin' out a sum." "O, I heard some numbers. Please don't do it here any more. I ab-omer-nate 'rithmetic. Mar- garet'll help you." "Yes, you precious, I 'spect Margaret willo help me in this sort of figurin', if anybody does." "Daisy, dear, I like Betsy ever so much, but don't let her do any more 'rithmetic up here. She screws up her face so, an' half laughs and half cries, and all about sixteen and twenty, and more I couldn't hear. She said you'd help her," said Alice, when Mar- garet returned to her little sister, the bearer of a beautiful bunch of grapes from Mr. Ferris. " So I will, dear. Betsy is slow at figures, but I can't see what she had to do in your room." "O, Oshe was settling accounts, I suppose," said BETSY IN A NEW CHARACTER. 189 the child wearily, " that's what she always used to say when I plagued her in +1!: kitchen. O Daisy dear, sha'n't I never go down-stairs again?" "I hope so, darling-- indeed I am almost sure you will ;" for before Margaret's eyes were dancing fairy visions of future comfort and possible luxuries, and greater means to help onward the cure she always would hope for Alice. The way in which this good fortune wasd to come to them was very different from Betsy's plan, but the source was the same: each had the same enchanter out of whose unsparing hand these blessings were to flow. Mr. Ferris thought ,as he left the house, "What a sweet child she is. I will carry out my plan if- pshaw, what 4 if' can there be in this case? Dr. John and his wife are my friends, and this little piece of real girlhood, this fair young creature with a soul shining out of her eyes, does not dislike me, to say the least." But we must leave Harvey Ferris in his soliloquy and return to his interview with Margaret. She came down to him with the heightened color Betsy had called into her face by her imputation of vanity, and the earnest look in her dark eyes which gave so much maturity to her expression, and warmly welcomed her father's friend. He talked a while to her of Alice, and drew from her an enthusiastic account of her former beauty page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] l90 EVERY DAY. and bright winsomeness, and her present patience and gentleness. II -,:kd her of her brothers, and said if George really had mercantile taste and fit- ness, he would help him to a good situation as soon- as he was educated for it. He said that he hoped Harvey would be a student. "Yes," Margaret said, her father had always hoped the same, though of late he had not said much about it, partly, she supposed, because he did not know as he could send him to college. "But I mean to' do it. I know I can teach, if I cannot make money by designing, which I should like best of all. I am so fond of drawing, I know I could design lovely patterns, because I always notice flowers or any combination that would make a pretty design for muslin, chintz, or even for car- pets." i I dare say you can earn money in that way if you have such tastes; but -Harvey is my name- child, and his education must be my care; but your efforts will give your father rest. I am sure he looks as if he needed it." "O, Mr. Ferris, if you could persuade father to take a good long rest; he is wearing himself out." "I hope to do so. I have a plan, and young as you are, I have observed that you seem to under- stand all the family perplexities, so I will talk with you about it, that you may tell me if you think I can carry it out." 1 BETSY IN A NEW CHARACTER. 191 Margaret looked disturbed, for she feared some offer of assistance which she knew her father would not accept, but she said, "What is it, sir? Father is very independent, and if"- "Trust me for knowing that of the John Lee of old. My plan involves a full equivalent 'for all I may do. Listen to me, child: I have never known what it was to have a real home. My mother's mistaken ideas of training the young, prevented it in my boyhood. Since then, I have een a wanderer upon the face of the earth, and have had only rare glimpses of a true home -a home where parents and children unite in love and kindness to each other, where man and woman fill each the sphere God has designed for them, and where each works not for selfish ends but for the good& of the whole. My business requires a resi- dence near the city.. My sister, Mrs. Gardner, does not need my aid in any way, and if she did she would not give me the home I yearn for. - If your father will let me become an inmate of his family, my share of its expenses will lighten his cares, and enable him to take measures for the restoration of his own health. Can you see any objection to this plan?" "None in the least, sir, but one. We haven't a room in the house fit for you, without taking Alice s. J page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192 EVERY DAY. "Which I should never ask you- to do. If I become an inmate of your family, perhaps for the little time I require it for the coming winter, your mother will let me have the sitting-room or parlor. Nex spring, if Alice is able to bear the noise, I can put up two or three rooms on the south side of the house." "O, I think, I believe father and mother will like this plan so much - only "- "Only what, child of ' ifs and ' onlys?" "Only, Mr. Ferris, you must not make your liv- ing with us a pretext for - for " - she paused, but Mr. Ferris would not help her out this time - " for doing too much." "Do not fear. I could not in money render an equivalent for a happy home; but we shall make a business transaction of it, though whatever the terms I shall be the gainer. Tell your father, Margaret, that I have come a beggar to his door to prefer a petition for a home. I will see him to-night. And now, my child, for yourself. In all this chat you have spoken of Alice, of George, and Harvey, of your father and mother, but not one word of your own longings .and desires. I know little of girlish fancies, though judging from my niece they may be so numberless as to require a fairy or genii to satisfy them. Tell me now, as your father's friend, as one who loves him with an enthusiasm almost equal to your ow , what your wishes are for yourself?" BETSY IN A NEW CHARACTER. 193 "I have no stronger wish, sir, than the one I mentioned--the wish to be able to cultivate my taste for drawing, for the purpose I told you of. My other wishes, your intentions, if father consents to your plan, will aid in furthering." "Yes, yes, child, I know; but you must have some girlish desires for yourself. I don't believe in perfect girls; they must be wretched in this age of the world. Are you one of such?" "O no, indeed; but I didn't understand you be- fore, and I will tell you." "Don't Betsy ' if' again, but tell me without fearing that, I shall consider you a beggar. I am a student of men and women just now, especially the latter. If I can get at the real feelings and aims of a few of your sex I shall know better how to classify the different varieties. Now for your weaknesses, if you choose so to consider them." "Well, sir, I am very fond of bright, new, beau- tiful things, of soft material and delicate shades, for dresses and gloves and ribbons. If I had money, I should not dress extravagantly or gaudily, but in soft and beautiful raiment. I should have roses and rose-color about me, and pure white color; I should have lovely paintings and beautiful engrav- ings of saints and madonnas, and I wouldn't care for pictures and scenes of terror. My passion is for beauty in everything; but indeed I am very happy 18 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 E VRY DAY. without these things, and I do not forget what I have always been trained to observe how much beauty there is about us in sky and earth, and which no poverty or restricted means can take from us. You asked me, you know." Do not let your conscience trouble you, clhild. I asked and I urged you to tell me your special de- sires. If your father does not say me nay, when I put up the addition you shall help me decide upon the furnishing, and my parlor shall be free to you all." This was the conversation that gave Margaret the bright visions alluded to, and it is not often that the visions of young girls have so substantial a basis. Mr. Ferris and Dr. John spent two hours in the latter's office that evening, and the result was a speedy transformation of the parlor, a room but little used now that Alice was confined up-stairs, into a comfortable bed-room for Mr. Ferris. It was with a few misgivings as to Betsy's hearty concurrence in this plan that Mrs. Lee carefully broke it to her the next morning. Her surprise was only equaled by her gratification to find that important person not onlyl willing, but apparently highly pleased with the idea. "More work to do-have Nancy Hill to help? Not if I can help'it! I'll risk it but I can cook to suit Mr. Ferris, an' do the rest too, if you'll put out BETSY IN A NEW CHARACTER. .195 some of the washin'. But who'd have thought it, - coming right into the house, and only twenty- Bless me! what'am I talking about? Them pesky accounts keep running in my head all the time! But how old, now, 's Mr. Ferris?" "I do not know; thirty-six or eight, I should judge." "I thought so. Quite a young man yet, --that is, compared to me." I should think so, Betsy," said Mrs. Lee, laughing; "what are 3ou driving at?" "O, nothing, only e likes to know how old folks is. Hope the children won't call him 'uncle."' "I'm sure I don't know whether they will or not: it won't make him any older if they do. He will be much obliged to you when he, knows how anxious you are he should be thought young." "Well, now, if that ain't a special providence, there never was one yet, Betsy Priam! Comin' right here to the house! An' Margaret do look so pooty, in her morning-gowns an' linen collar, -just like a rose-bud for all the world! I told her yester- day he was an old man, so's she could talk free to him. She'll find out he's not a Methuselah soon. An' didn't he stay a long time talkin' to hert You're no fool, Betsy Priam, that's a fact " This was Betsy's soliloquy. page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] CHTAPTER XTX. AN HOUR OF RECKONING. MRS. GARDNER was so much shocked and over- come at Mr. Ferris's revelation of Mr. De Witt's character, that she could hardly command herself sufficiently to meet Isabella, and prevent her from going down to see the base, unprincipled man who had so unscrupulously sought her affection. "What is it, mother? Has anything happened?" Mrs. Gardner's incoherent account, in which, without telling her daughter the worst, she tried to convince her of his villainy, failed to make the least impression, but was received with that incred- ulous scorn which characterizes inconsiderate, im- pulsive youth. At last fietold her the whole story, without any attempt at palliation; and still Isabella declared that her uncle was prejudiced, and that nothing short of Mr. De Witt's own admission would satisfy her that he had not been basely slan- dered. As she stood in her room, her cheeks glowing and her blue eyes flashing, her whole figure dilated with passion and indignation, and her voice tremulous with the anger she did not strive to AN HOUR OF RECKONING. 197 control,Irs. Gardner felt that she had raised an evil spirit that it would be hard to quell; and, after a few vain efforts to calrm her, she went to Mr. Ferris, who was walking back and forth in the drawing-roomn, stern and calm. In answer to Mrs. Gardner's statement, he took his hat and said, "I will return in a few hours with proof which will convince the most headstrong girl of this most remarkable age, where the babes in swaddling-clothes appear to direct and control their elders." He did return in about three hours, and put an open note from Mr. De Witt to Isabella into her mother's hand. It tas as follows: - "MSS GARDNER,- "Forgive the base deception I have practiced upon you. What your uncle has told you is true. "Yours, "ROUFUS DE WITT." "His first note was filled with protestations of undying love, remorse, etc., etc. I told him noth- ing was required of him but .a brief statement that my story was veracious. I pitied the man, so abject and cringing because he knew his reputation was in my hands." Mrs. Gardner took the note. to her daughter. page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 EVERY DAY. Isabella read it again and again, as if seeking for somethi;g more than the words told her, then turned to her mother with a look which, in its con- centrated agony and despair, should never be seen upon a young face, and said, "Leave me a while, mother!" "My child, let me stay with you. Tell me why you feel this so deeply. Did you, then, really care for him?" "Care for him! I was - Leave me, mother, -in pity, leave me! Some time I will tell you all." And her mother left her, - heard her close and lock her door; heard her suppressed sobs; heard her pacing back and forth, like a caged wild crea- ture; heard her throw herself upon her bed; heard her moans; and at last, from the cessation of all sounds, knew that she had fallen asleep from utter exhaustion. Towards night, hearing some sound in her room, Mrs. Gardner knocked at her door and was admitted, not by the daughter she had heretofore known, but by a pale, still, resolute girl, who looked as if she had nerved herself to endure unflinchingly any torture that might henceforth befall her. "Do not ask me any questions now, mother, and please to ask the same favor of father," said Isa- bella, in a voice as strange to Mrs. Gardner as the AN HOUR OF RECKONING. 199 girl from whom it came. "I will not go down to- night. To-morrow I shall be - better." To her mother's tender and loving words Isabella made no reply, and so plainly evinced a desire to be left to herself, that Mrs. GardVer at last went down-stairs to her husband, feeling that there was a great gulf between them, over which neither could at present pass to the other. She had little comfort to give her husband, who needed it sorely now. He was a kind man, with a tender, loving nature,. which had been his attraction to the Esther Halford of old, but had neither his wife's strength of mind or will, and had always con- tentedly yielded to her in the management of house and child. If any doubt crossed his mind now as to the wisdom of that management, he did not speak of it, but tried to comfort and reassure her, saying over and over, "She is so young, it cannot be anything more than a passing fancy;" and wearily his wife would answer, as she had answered him once before, "Young in years, but old in feel- ing." And so the hours, the long, long hours, wore on; bringing little comfort to these parents, who, however faulty they might consider their child to have been, knew full well that theirs was the greater blame, theirs would be the heavier penalty. When Isabella came down to breakfast the next page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 ETVERY DAY. morning, she appeared 'so calm and quiet that her father at once indulged the hope that she would soon forget this disappointment, and be her own bright, joyous self again. Not so her mother. She knew that the calm and quiet were alike unnatural, and boded something alarming in the future. So day after day went by, and Isabella made no allu- sion to the past, but continued quiet and listless; spending hours in her own room, where her mother often found .her sleeping uneasily on her couch, or leaning dreamily out of the window, till Mrs. Gard- ner became seriously alarmed, and consulted Dr. John about her. Upon hearing that loss of appetite and strength were also prominent symptoms, he looked grave and said, "It may be only a reaction from so much excitement of the mind, but it also may be the commencement of a fit of sickness. Watch her carefully, and report to me." It was only the next day that Mrs. Gardner found her lying on the sofa in the drawing-ropm, her cheeks fiery red, her breathing heavy, and her whole appearance that of one in great suffering. As her mother stood bending over her, she moved restlessly, tossed her arms over her head, and opened her eyes, which were bright with fever, but gave no token of consciousness. "Yes," she said, "it is best so. We will be AN HOUX OF RECKONING. 20i married and go abroad; and, when we come home, it will be all right again. If not, why, we can go to that place-- I forget where it is; do help me to remember it! But then-there's mother- mother - mother! why don't you come to me!" And Isabella shrieked in agony, and looked up at her mother with that stony, unconscious stare so hard to meet from a loved one. / Mrs. Gardner called the servants, sent for Dr. Lee, and had her daughter carried at once to - her room and laid upon her bed. And now began one of those fearful struggles between life and death which are so agonizing to those who watch and wait in alternate fear and hope, grief and joy. On one side was her youth, her good constitution, her former good health; on the other a terrible fever, the very name of which has power to strike terror to many hearts, and this fever had seized upon. a body worn with excite- ment and prostrated in all its powers from sympa- thy with mental trouble. Would it be life or death? was her mother's inward moan. Was this dear child of their love and hope, with all her fresh, bright beauty and promise to be laid away still and cold in the grave? --they to be left desolate, heart- broken? Beyond the grave this mother could not trulvyfollow her. She had a vague idea of a better life after this for her child, but no clear, comforting page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 EVERY DAY. Oonviction that her Heavenly Father would be more to her than all earthly love, more than wealth and , honors, more than all posssible joys for the future. , And Isabella, her pride and darling, lying in her grave, was the torturing thought ever present to her. For herself--ashes for beauty! the spirit of heaviness for joy! What would life be if this shipwreck of her fondest hopes came upon her? She dared not answer the fearful question; she dared not think, and so strove to put away the gloomy and agonizing thoughts that would not be put away at her bidding. Meantime the fever was doing its cruel work,- now, giving a strange, un- natural strength and beauty to its victim, coloring her cheeks with the richest carnation, and giving wonderful lustre to her beautiful blue eyes, and again leaving her pale and still like a marble statue; now, impelling her to pour forth the passion of her heart in bursts of the wildest and most eloquent delirium, and again leaving her unable to open her poor parched lips in answer to tender questioning; now, giving her intervals of peaceful sleep, and again causing her to toss and- moan in her unrefreshing slumbers. O how the words almost shrieked out in her madder hours struck like death-knells upon her mother's ear! How she raved of torture and cruel suspense and her mother, in one breath; how she called upon AN HOUR OF RECKONING. 203 one person as her friend, never mentioning any name, over and over again, begging him to vindi- cate himself and release her from suffering. Then she would cry out, "O, it is cruel, cruel, cruel - and I am so young, and life is so beautiful; " and then she would sob herself into a restless sleep, perhaps again to wake to wild and incoherent rambling. Bput whatever her ravings, the friend of whom she spoke and her mother were the principal persons alluded to, although once, when Mr. Ferris was bending over her, she said, quite coherently, "Go away, Uncle Harvey. You were an evil spirit in the disguise of a prince. Go away; you've spoilt all our lives -and I was so young." She repeated this last so many times that her mother thought it must have been a torturing thought to her while she was in the abstracted state preceding her fever. So young, and such a blight fallen upon her! So young, and yet so fiercely scorched by that passion to which she should have been a stranger! There were many anxious hearts besides her mother's waiting for the crisis of that fell disease, now not far away: her father, to whom she was most dear, although little mention has been mnade of him in these pages; Dr. Lee's family, all of whom ,oved this bright, beautiful girl almost as one of themselves; Madame Merivale, who had always recognized in her gifts and powers beyond the page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 EVERY DAY. average, and who had said some day they would shine out beyond the tinsel and gauds that now repressed them; Mr. Ferris, who had from the first been strongly attracted towards her, and who had exercised so important an influence over her life; her young friends of both sexes, with whom- she was deservedly a favorite - with the girls for her bright, joyous nature, so free from envy and detrac- tion, with the young men for her frank, pleasant manners, never bordering upon boldness, never degenerating into coquetry. At last the crisis came. She had been unusu- ally restless and excited, and it seemed as if that slight frame could not bear any greater strain upon its vital powers. She had fallen into a heavy sleep, from which, when she awakened, the doctor said it would probably be to consciousness, but whether from that point her passage would be onward in the life that now is, or upward to the life beyond, God only knew. Mrs. Gardner had watched be- side her bed as long as she could bear the combined torture of her own thoughts and the sight of Isa- bella's changed looks, for she had grown so thin, and her expression was so distressed, none but familiar friends would have recognized her. At last Mr. Ferris persuaded her to go into the dressing-room and lie down on the couch, promising to call her the moment Isabella awoke. AN HOUR OF RECKONING. 205 But it was of little avail to that tortured mother. If the bodily presence was not before her she saw the shattered wreck all too plainly - not a trace or line of the ravages disease had made that was not present to her. Ah, who could fathom her an- guish, who could give her comfort but. the loving and pitiful Father of us all! And although He was very near to her, ready to listen and comfort, she could not drawnear to Him, and, throwing upon Him the burden of her cares and agonies, say, "Thy will be done." For the time she could think of nothing but what "might have been," had she treated her child like an immortal being with a soul to train for eternity, not like a toy to be dressed and exhibited and admired in this perishable and passing world. It is said that to persons in imminent danger of drowning, the whole past life comes before them with a fearful distinct- ness and rapidity of thought, and that then they are brought into judgment against themselves. Such a supreme moment of life was this to the agonized mother, as all the mistakes and errors of her child's training came before her in that terrible time when she knew that her life was trembling in the balance. O, the trumpet-sound of that tiny watch to her sharpened senses, as to her it, ticked away the seconds of her child's life! How steadily it went on, and how mercilessly, saying to her excited im- page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 EVERY DAY. agination, "Never more - never more never more!" "Never more in this life," she thought, "an opportunity for me to redeem the past, the sealed, irretrievable past!" Will any mother say, Why all this agony of grief and remorse over so common a weakness, if weak- ness it be, as over-indulgence, such little failures as Mrs. Gardner's had been in the right direction? Surely, if she had occasion for such severe re- proaches of conscience, half the mothers in the land must have the same. A recent writer has said that there was no such thing as a little act, or a little neglect, since no one could ever foresee results. Another has given his idea of the judgment hereafter, as seeing God as He is and ourselves as we are. Who can doubt the great truths underlying both these statements? Who can doubt that the little seeds .of vanity and self-love mothers daily sow in their children's hearts, -by ministering to a fondness for dress and display, by excessive indulgence in pleasures and amusements, will, one day, produce a great crop of faults and follies? Well for us all if the faults do not become vices, if the follies do not end in wickedness. And the hour of judgment will come I It may come, as it came to Esther Gardner, when, in her AN HOUR OF RECKONING. 207 blind despair, she felt that it was too late for change or help. It may not come till we stand in the presence of our God, a Being of perfect holiness and love. Standing thus, the veil of illusion stripped from before our eyes, how then will the little things that have helped to make us and -'others the beings that we and they are, seem? Alas, little things no longer, but giant wrongs, wrongs against ourselves and against God. Perhaps a tiny seed of vanity was sown in a little child's loving heart, a heart- susceptible of the purest love to God ,nd man; the seed'took root and grew and grew, s- tered by a mother's care, and it ended --where? Perhaps in nothing worse than in making that child a devotee of fashion and pleasure; perhaps it carried her to those lowest depths to which a child of God can fall! Precisely what direction Mrs. Gardner's self- upbraiding took is known only to herself and her Maker, but that it was given to her in that hour to see herself and her acts and motives as they were, and God as He is in all the majesty of infinite holiness and purity, those who have ever passed through conflicts even less severe, through trials less agonizing, will not doubt. But hark! there was a sound in that room,- a movement, a voice, faint and low, where of late all had been so still! i Mrs. Gardner started up and sat like a statue of stone, with dilated eyes and hands page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 20aos8 EVERY D;AY. clasped, waiting minutes perhaps, hours it seemed to her, till Dr. John came out, and taking both her passive hands in his, said,'in the words of the old verse, "Thank God for all." But she did not understand him - she did not look up to meet that gaze of pitying tenderness and hope which transfig- ured Dr. John's face as with an angel's light. Once before, when Isabella's delirium had been at its most fearful height, he had said this to her, - "But think that God is where He was, And alway thank God for all." She shook her head: she could not thank Him then, she could not thank Him now. "Your child will live, I hope and believe. Es- ther, do you understand me?" It was too much joy: she fainted, and it was long before she recovered consciousness. When she did she found herself on her own bed, her husband be- side her. He answered her beseeching look. "The crisis is over; Isabella is sleeping quietly. She awoke with abated fever and every sign of a favorable change. She said, ' Mother!' took some- thing the Doctor gave her, and in a few moments was asleep again. We have received our darling back from the very gates of the grave. Let us "- but we may not intrude upon that sacred confidence between husband and wife. Results will tell all that we need to know, if indeed our own hearts cannot supply the -blank. CHAPTER XX. WEARY HOURS. ANY one who has watched a person recovering from a severe fit of sickness, knows how tedious a process such recovery is under the most favoring circumstances, and how trifling a thing will delay the return of health beyond all power of calculation. In Isabella's case there were not only the ravages which disease had made to be overcome, but there was the still greater drawhack of her own listless indifference. She had never shown any especial interest or pleasure in any of the unwearied efforts of her friends in her behalf, and although she fol- lowed implicitly all directions left by Dr. John, she did not appear to feel the slightest interest in their results. In spite of this indifference and list- lessness there was a slow gain, and Dr. John could see nothing to prevent her final restoration to health. At the same time he judged it important that an effort should be made to rouse her from her present state, and he urged it upon Mr. Ferris. "It is not best for me to allude in any way to her unfortunate interest- in Mr. De Witt.' With l& page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 EVERY DAY. you, Harvey, the case is different. She knows that you are the cause of their separation. It may be that there are troubles upon her mind which you can relieve, or at least you can perhaps arouse her from this death-in-life condition." "I will do what I can, but she is as capricious to me as ever. Sometimes she appears pleased to see me, and again there is something like aversion in her manner." It was now winter, although there was no sign of winter but the bright cannel coal fire iti Isabella's room, which was as luxurious a spot as the most fastidious could desire. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's, and the intervening holidays, had come and gone whilst Isabella's spirit had been hovering between the seen and unseen world, and except to the children in Dr. John's family they had passed unnoticed in the usual way. They had been remembered by their parents and by Mr. Ferris, and in such a way as to make them believe that fairy-land was really coming to them at last. Mr. Ferris had not thus far been able to carry out his plan for a southern trip for himself and Dr. John, although he really needed it, and he was sure the Doctor did no less. Isabella had a kind heart, that he knew; could he not move her to some. effort by an appeal to her better self? It was worth the trial at all events. WEARY- OURS. 2" One cold morning he came into Isabella's room, and was received by her, with rather more than usual cordiality. "It's like a breath of the tropics, coming into this room out of your frosty air. I wish you would let me get afeel of warm weather again, you lazy girl." ", Uncle Harvey; how do I prevent it?" "This way: I'm not going off alone when I can have a companion that needs the change for rest, as much as I do for climate. Dr. John will never go away and leave you lying here. Little as you seem to value the love of your friends, Isabella," he added in a graver tone, " you have several whose conduct and movements are influenced by you. Dr. John stays at home to watch your case, and I could not leave your mother in her present anxiety, however pressing the call or desire." "I don't want to spoil people's plans," said Is- abella, almost pouting. "I can't get well if I can't ---and I don't know as I want to." "That's just it. In your present state it's the want or don't want to get well that'll help or hinder you. You can't lay down your life at will, but you t can make it a useless one - a burden to yourself and to your friends, if they did not love you better 'han you love them. I never supposed it was a pleasant thing to be bed-ridden, but you seem to find a charm in it," he added, half laughing. page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 EVERY DAY. , You're unkind to me, Uncle Harvey." "No, my child, I am not half so unkind to you as you are to yourself; let us talk about it. I dare say you often feel in your misery, which is partly physical, that it would have been better if you had died when you were so sick." "Indeed I do, Uncle Harvey," and Isabella's blue eyes, which looked larger and more luminous than ever, filled with tears. "Then you consider yourself only, my dear child, and do not think of your father and mother; and is it not cowardly to shrink from our burdens, and instead of struggling against them let them over- whelm us? Isabella, you gave your affection, or fancied you did, to an unworthy object. Shall your whole life be spoiled on that account? And not yours alone: have you noticed your mother's almost heart-broken look? If she reproaches herself, you surely should not reproach her for what grew out of excessive fondness for you." "But what can I do? My life is spoiled; I feel it to be. I can never, never enjoy it again." "Not in the thoughtless, selfish way in which you have enjoyed it, I hope and believe, but in the true way, a thousand times more than you ever yet have done. Believe me - believe one who speaks from experience, who has tried the same road you have entered upon, and who found it leading to de- WEARY HOURS. 218 struction, believe that you have only to set your feet in another path, and steadfastly pursue it, and you will find that the happiness which would not come at your seeking, will be yours when that seeking is abandoned." "I am not seeking it now; I never shall again." "Do not court misery, my child. Will you, for your mother's sake, for all our sakes, will you try to rouse yourself and find some interest in life? Don't ask me what you can do. You can remove the care and anxiety from your parents' hearts, you can gladden your many friends, you can release Dr. John from his post of physician and watcher, and you can make brighter, by sharing your privi- leges with her, the lot of that lovely child of the Lees." "O, I had forgotten Alice. How-is she?" "Much the same, bodily. There is no hope of restoration to health and activity, but the dear child is, for the most part, as sweet and patient 'as possible. She doesn't really need any kindness from you, but I know it would gratify her to feel that she was remembered. The Doctor's patients are very thoughtful, sending her odd enough - gifts, some of them." "Please take her that book of prints to look at, and that little rest to put it on, and "- "That'll do for to-day. I know this will please her." page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 EVERY DAY. "Uncle Harvey!" "What is it, my dear? '" "Was it all, every word true, about - about " - "De Witt? Every word! and the half of his vileness has not been told you. He is a base, unl- principled man. Did you think, Isabella, that I would deceive you?" "O no, not really, although at times I don't I know what I did think after - after it was all over, and before I was sick; but I was very wretched before that, for he- used to be very exacting and jealous at times. He wanted to 'test his power over me, I suppose, and O, he did put it to a: test at last. It makes me shudder when I think of it. That morning when you met him here, he came out to make his final arrangements for - for our mar- riage. We were to be married and go abroad- within a week from that day. Now I have told the whole of my sin; now perhaps I can get well, that this fearful load is removed from my con- science." "My poor, poor child, how you must have -suf- fered! but how-where did you meet him, that your intimacy could have progressed at such a fear- ful rate?" "In the city mostly; sometimes at Aunt Bolton's, sometimes in parks, and sometimes here in Rock- ville. But we did not meet very often; , when we WEARY HOURS. 215 did he completely fascinated me, and indeed, Uncle Harvey, do you wonder? I am not blaming my mother, but she never had warned me of such a danger, and she had always been so indulgent I did, not fear. that she would not forgive me at last. And I wanted something new, something exciting, and O, I thought he was so noble and true. I never should have cared for him, had I not thought that." "No, my child, I am sure you would not. But now that you do know the man as he is, now that you know that it was an ideal that you were inter- ested in, you surely will not let your life, and the Mves of those bound up in yours, be marred or spoiled by idle and vain regrets? I know you will not. You will rise from this bed of sickness with new convictions and new purposes as to the use of the life God has given you. Life, it is true, will never have the gold and purple hues your past ex- perience gave it for a while, but it may have the softer hues of blue and white - the white of pure aims, and the heavenly blue of constant effort. One word more, my dear Isabella. Tell your mother all the history of the past few months, and then let it be for you, as for us all, who have erred and repented, 'forgetting .the- things which are be- bind, press forward.' " "I will. Poor mother, how hard this has been page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 EVERY DAY. for hr anDM she warned me against that man from /h/#er st meeting at our own house. And you will go, Uncle Harvey, and take dear Doctor John with you. What an angel of deliverance he has been to me! Do you know, Uncle Harvey, that that night, when I was so sick and you were all watching around me, and I awoke from that heavy sleep, I had the strangest feeling; there seemed no strength in my body nor will in my mind. I remember wondering whether it could be I, and, if it really was Isabella Gardner, what was about to happen to her. Just then, Dr. John took my hands in his, bent over me with one of his other-world looks, as I call them now, and said, 'Thank God for His mercy; she will live ; ' then he gave me something to take, and sat down beside me, and I thought ' Whatever happens now, I am safe with that friend to care for me,' and before- I could wonder where mother was, I went to sleep, I sometimes feel as if that look and the fervent words decided the trembling in the balance in favor of life. You will persuade him to go with you?" "I certainly shall try to do so; and now, Isabella, I must go, and the sooner you see your mother the better it will be for both." It is doubtful if Mrs. Gardner ever experienced a higher, purer feeling of happiness in her life, than , . WEARY HOURS. 217 she did after the long and thoroughly free and con- fidential conversation she had with Isabella soon after Mr. Perris's visit: not that the knowledge of her daughter's suffering did not grieve her greatly, for she had iever for a moment imagined that matters had he so far between her and Mr. De Witt; not that she did not feel again the upbraid- ings of conscience at her careless neglect of her child's higher interests; not that she did not know, far better than Isabella could, what a weary time it would-be before she would recover from this e sickness and from the shock that had caused it; not that she did not, upon hearing her recital of the emotions and feelings this passage in her life had evoked, bitterly regret that a girl so young should so much as dream that such feelings existed: but despite all this she was happy--happy that her child had come to her with a spirit of love and confidence such as she had never exhibited before; happy in the thought that a better life was be- fore' them all. For the terrible lesson Ilned beside Isabella's bed of sickness had not ]en for- ' gotten, and in her long and discouragin gperiod of convalescence Mrs. Gardner had po0ered many things in her heart, and had only waited for the fit time to speak, with the hope tiat such speaking would not be in vain. page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] CHAPTER XXT. WHAT THE WORLD SAID. THE world of Rockville, being composed of much the same variety of human beings, with about the us- ual average of interest and curiosity in their neigh- bors' affairs, as in other little worlds, had queried and speculated and gossiped about the events oc- curring in the two families in which centres the interest of our story, much as the same number of people would do in our native village, town, or city, my friendly readers. Like the game of scandal, in which a sentence whispered from one to another through a dozen different persons, loses in the close all identity with its commencement, so events and facts become so distorted and changed, so added to or subtracted from, on passing from neighbor to neigh- bor, friend to friend, and so on through the different social circles of a place, that at last the old proverb is reversed, and lo, the mouse has brought forth the mountain! -not that there was not abundant ma- terial for excitement and wonder in the plain, un- varnished recital of events that occurred one after the other so rapidly in the autumn of the year 186- WHAT THE WORLD SAID. 219 to the Gardners and the Lees. But the stories that got afloat, and kept so, probably owing to the un- substantial fabric of which they were made, were these:- , Mr. Ferris was a perfect nabob, rolling in wealth which he knew not how to end; he had already settled fifty thousand dollars upon each of the Lee children, beside adopting Harvey as his own; most of his time was spent in lying upon a sofa and smoking in a state of dull apathy, though if once roused, his wrath was something fearful! He had made up his mind immediately upon his return to marry Isabella, who was in no way related to him, and hence his eager espousal of her mother's opposition to Mr. De Witt. They had met; he, Mr. Ferris, had knocked De Witt down, and afterwards sent him a challenge, but De Witt had consid- ered discretion the better part of valor, and had fled abroad. It was now settled that he should marry Isabella, She objected, still pining for her lost lover, and strange scenes of violence could be told, only there had been strict promise of secresy. Mr. Ferrisghad got his immense wealth in a strange way: no one knew just how, but he had been much on tie sea since he first ran away frop his mother, after threatening to take her life. The inference was- well, the informant wouldn't like to say what, but pirates were not yet monsters of the past. Then page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 EVERY DAY. the tide of rumor changed all at once, and ran swiftly in an opposite direction. Mr. Ferris had made his money in business, was a very prince of honesty and generosity, had endowed his native village with a magnificent library, was about to build an elegant- couiitry-house on the site of his step-father's house, and-crowning absurdity to those who knew the parties -was going to send his grave, white-haired mother, and the good, ab- sent-minded, old man, his step-father, abroad! In Rockville he was about building a splendid memorial hall in honor of soldiers " dead on the field of honor," and had already consulted with Mr. Gard- ner as to the plan, and employed a deserving young man to draw it up. Then a little mote of rumor got afloat in a little side-brook of Rockville's subur- -ban population, and that floated and grew till neither brook nor suburb could contain it, and it came right into tife heart of Rockville's " best society." Who started this mote will be told by and by. Our busi- ness at present is with it in its increased dimen- sions, and its thoroughly genteel locality. But this part of the story can be best told by two persons who in common parlance might be called gossips, but whom we will simply consider as having a great interest in their fellow-creatures. Contrary to all supposed precedent, these in- terested friends, whose gossip follows, were not old WHAT THE WORLD SAID. 221 maids, were not even both women, -one being the mother of a family sufficiently large and unruly, if report said truly, to occupy exclusively the time and attention so freely bestowed elsewhere; the other, a man of leisure and some education. Mrs. Markwell met this gentleman at a friend's house, and after the customary interchange of greet- ings and remarks upon the weather, which were con. fined to the present season, and not carried back for years past, as is sometimes the case when subjects for conversation are not abundant, she began at once upon the topic of the day. "G Can you tell me, Mr. Freeman, if the last re- ports with reference to the Lees are correct? It seemed as if they had pretty good fortune before, with all Mr. Ferris had given to the children, but if this strange story is true, they are likely to get the whole of that immense property in their hands." 4"You refer, doubtless, to Mr. Ferris's reported engagement to Margaret Lee?" "Yes, precisely; is it true?" "Not now, but very likely it will be true soon, for when I jocosely spoke to the Doctor about it, sup- posing it a settled thing, he seemed much more irri- tated than I think he would have been had not there been some foundation for the story. My wife says of course he wouldn't wish it to be known at pres- ent. Some worldly wisdom there, Mrs. Markham?" page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 EVERY DAY. "Yes; I never thought the Lees quite so free from all worldly taint as some persons. Who could blame them for wishing to secure suyh a rich husband for their daughter, though of course, as your wife doubtless meant, they wish it kept quiet, because they have always advocated keeping young people out of society at their daughter's age. But this report came from such good authority, I do not feel the slightest doubt about its correctness. I hear the father-in-law elect and Mr. Ferris are going South: probably the preparations for the marriage will go on during their absence. I hear also that Mr. Ferris has bought the old Southmere place, and is going to have it elegantly fitted up in the spring." "Ah, indeed! a fine old place that. Do you know, Mrs. Markham, how Mr. Ferris disposed of the other affair?" "What, Isabella Gardner's? I was told in confi- dence that he got tired of her sulkiness, and, beside that, he never cared much for her. That was her mother's doing." "Very likely; but it's strange how stories do get about. I'm glad for Lee; he's a good fellow, a little short and brusque at times, but he means well, and that's a good deal," said patronizing, neigh- borly Mr. Freeman, as he took his hat and bowed himself and his gossip out of the house and into another, where "Lee's good fortune " was still the subject. O WHAT THE WORLD SAID. 228 But more than enough of this, though page upon page might be added, and the whole not told of , the idle and worse than idle gossip that was circu- lating throughout Rockville, while at least two of the parties concerned were in total ignorance of the interest their affairs excited. These were Isabella, and Margaret. Isabella's sickness and seclusion shielded her, and Margaret's native dignity and purity of character had always been her safeguard as to any foolish badinage from the girls upon such subjects. To their significant questions about Mr. Ferris, and suppositions that they all enjoyed his society, Margaret's frank answers and open admis- sion that such was the case, prevented further re- mark to her. Dr. Lee, as has been seen, knew something of thetalk of the place, and it excited his just indig- nation, yet he did not choose to take any notice of the reports, most of them being so utterly without foundation. "It's a good rule," he said to his wife, "never to believe anything Madame Rumor says. I began life in my profession with giving credit to only part of what I heard from apparently good authority. I soon found a part was too much in many cases, and so 'I've learned to turn a deaf ear to all 'she says,' and 'he s-ys, and 'best author- L ity,' and ' in strict chnfidence,' etc., etc. I've always found that any facts in relation to my friends and page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224 EVERY DAY. neighbors which it was desirable I should know, came to my knowledge soon enough; fictions of that sort never did interest me. You would hardly credit it, Lizzie, but I have been from one house to another in my round of visits, and been told of things which occurred in one or other of these houses, in which' I was a prominent actor, and in which there wouldn't be a vestige of truth to hang a long story upon. But I put a stop to that long- ago. As for these reports now in circulation, I cannot conceive how they got about. Margaret is such a child, and Mr. Ferris so evidently regards her as such. I am only too thankful her serene young life is not disturbed by the knowledge of them. It is too bad that there cannot be pleasant and natural social and friendly relations between the sexes without matrimonial intentions being sus- pected and reported. This report has such a very mercenary and interested aspect on the face of it! I hope it will be long before our Margaret has any other lover than her father, and then I hope to see her married to a pure, .high-minded, intelligent, young man; not even to a noble-hearted man like Ferris would I willingly give my Daisv. Remem- bering our oneness of heart and life - a oneness that never could have been so perfect with a score or more of years between us, I hope an eanal good future for her, if indeed she ever marries. For the WHAT THE WORLD SAID. 225 rest this babble needn't make any difference. Never more applicable than to us, and now, were the words of that wonderful reader of human nature who says, We must not stint Our necessary aetions in the fear To cope malicious censurers; which ever, As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new trimmed.' Ferris shall have a home with us as long as he desires it, and I have decided to go South with him, and brave all idle talk. Ferris and Margaret, what an absurd idea!"' Mrs. Lee had no more desire than her husband that Margaret should marry a man so much her senior, or that she should think of the subject at all at present; but as to the ' absurdity of the idea,' she could not quite see it in that light. Her Margaret was surely attractive and interesting enough to win the love of any man. "And,!' so soliloquized Mrs., Lee, "men always have Hen and always will be totally oblivious of the disparity of twenty, even forty years, if their hearts are interested." . / page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] CHAPTER XC JJ. ANOTHER CRIISIS. "WHAT the world said" made very little differ- ence to Isabella, although some faint rumors at last reached even her sick-room; but what her con- science said to her in her hours of reflection, and in the still night, when tossing restlessly upon her bed the past came vividly before her, was quite another matter. She could even laugh a wan sort of laugh at the absurdity of some of the on dits of Rock- ville, but she groaned in spirit at the remembrance of the events of the last few months, and she could' not deny that she had erred willfully, for, however indulgent her parents had been to her, she knew that in receiving Mr. De Witt's attentions she was acting contrary to their wishes. And to what had all this reckless willfulness brought her and those dearest to her? - to the very brink of a connection which would have been morally, however the world might view it, a disgrace and shame. And then the shock which had been given to all the finer emotions of her nature by the abrupt awakening from her dream of bliss? Most dazzling and alluring to her undis- ANO THER CRISIS. 227 ciplined fancy had that turn of her kaleidoscope been, followed so soon by one so dark and revolting as she had never dreamed could be in reserve for her. How old and worn in the world's ways she felt, having this knowledge of the evil that is in life, while yet in years she was but a child! And could this dreary feeling of premature knowledge ever pass from her? Could she ever be gay, light- hearted, and merry again? Could she ever atone to her mother for the grief that had silvered her hair, and stamped indelible lines of care upon her face? Never, alone and unassisted, she thought, never per-- haps at all. Was she not like the traveller who be- holds fair cities, and grand and lovely scenes of mountain and valley rise before him as if by magic, when, upon approaching for a nearer view, lo, they vanish from his sight, and who henceforth knows s/ot what is seeming and what reality? So, would life and its joys ever again be anything to her but a mocking, alluring vision? Then the thought of her uncle's words-that happiness would come in proportion as its search was abandoned and thoughts of self were put aside. How could she do this; how forget the cruel o\ wounds she had received which still bled? Then she would go over and over, again and again, the r same review of the past, strive again to excuse her- self, and again be reminded that she had sinned page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 f EVERY DAY. against the light of her soul's intuitions, and that her wrong must be expiated by suffering. But this state in which she now found herself was only the final struggle to burst the bands of this mental and moral disease, which involved a crisis more fearful than the physical one through which she had so recently passed. Then, she had no consciousness of her peril, and was watched over and guarded by loving friends. Now, her powers of perception were quickened to the utmost keenness and sensi- tiveness, and she knew that she must tread the wine- press alone--alone, for neither parent nor friend could help her; yet not alone, for God was with her. And when the crisis came, His everlasting arms sus- tained her. She had fallen asleep upon first going to bed, and her mother had left her, satisfied that she was quiet for the night. She awoke, as she often did now after two or three hours' sleep, and the same thoughts that had so haunted her came thronging into her mind, only, it seemed to her, with more tormenting power than ever. At once, like an an- gel's whisper, the words that she had carelessly read that day came into her mind, the words of that world-comforting and soothing invitation which has been the messenger of hope to many a-despairing soul: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. For myyoke - -, . ) ANOTHER CRISIS. 229 is easy, and my burden is light." Surely that was for her: she was heavy laden. She knew not how to pray except the lip serviced mechanical prayer, but another text came to her mind. "Lord, I be- lieve : help thou mine unbelief." She did believe that God would help her, and she knew that she needed to have that belief strength- ened. In that moment she was born again; not born into full and undoubting trust in Christ and his teachings: not born into perfect acquiescence with God's will; but born into a new purpose in life - a purpose to seek " the way; " a purpose to learn how oto take the yoke of true service upon her; a pur- pose to bear the burdens made light by such service. God's laws for the soul are as fixed and immu- table as for his worlds. The sun has set, and as we watch the trail of his royal garments die out of the heavens, and night come on, we know that there is an appointed space over which he must move before he shall again flash upon our vision in all his royal glory, bathing the world in a flood of light and glad- ness. So to those souls who catch a glimpse of the light of truth, a heaven-born purpose may come, but there are steps and steps of progress to be taken, a work for every day, before the purpose -becomes a life; and at times we may have neither the light of the moon nor stars to guide us, and we may cry out, Who will show us any good? but if we are true to page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230 EVERY DAY. the ptrpose the progress is sure, and the Sun of Righteousness will atlast rise clear nd effulgent, bathing our souls in his divine light! Born again! O how many new births there are out of the travail of sin and despair, out of the depths of human sorrow and human wrongs; out of the wrestling of the soul in its striving after some- thing heretofore beyond its reach; out even of the unsatisfying whirl of life's gayest pleasures, that the world knows not of! It is not a mere figure of speech, it is not a doctrine that belongs to the past, but it is a solemn, a holy, a beautiful reality! Born again! Can a feeble pen write, can a finite mind conceive of all that phrase implies? The spiritual crisis was past, and into Isabella's soul came a sense of exceeding peace. With peace came the healing angel, sleep; and when she awoke late the next morning it was with a strange sense of relief from that weight which had so long op- pressed her. In the course of the forenoon, when her mother came into her 'room to sit with her, she found traces of tears upon her face. To her mother's tender inquiry as to what troubled her, she told her briefly of her last night's struggle, and of her resolution. "Only, mother, the begin. ning seems so hard. It is like a great piece of work half done, that has to be taken out and done over again." ANOTHER 'CRISIS. 231 "Mine should be the undoing," said Mrs. Gard- ner, "since mine has been the wrong; but alas! it is part of the penalty of my careless neglect of your true interests, Isabella, that I cannot do the whole.' "No," said Isabella, gravely, "I suppose it is with me as with the man who built his house upon the sand, and when storms came, it fell. I must begin again, and build with a new foundation." "We will build togethqr, my child; together we will study the Bible, and together we will strive to follow its teachings? I have only been waiting for a fit time to speak to you of this; for on that night, my child, when I thought God was about to take back the gift He had .given me because I had proved so unworthy the trust, I resolved to lead an- other life, and to use my influence in a direction in which heretofore I had abused it." "Poor mother!" said Isabella, fondly stroking her silvery hair, and looking into the pale face anxiously, "I have been a wayward daughter in return for your devotion, but I will do better in the future." "We will both strive to do'better, my child. 1 have sinned against 4te teaching of my youth; you have only followed where I have led you. It was a fearful precipice upon the brink of which you x stood; but that peril is over, and we will adopt your ,uncle's text, and, 'forgetting the things that are be- hind, press forward' to the work before us. If I page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 EVERY DAY. can once more see you truly happy, my child, I shall feel less guilty than I now do." It is no part of the purpose of this story to go into a lengthened detail of the steps by which mother and daughter sought and found the " way " that the hard discipline of the last few months had brought them to seek. It was no easy work which they had undertaken, and for both there would be hours of despondency and discouragement, yet through all a steady if slow progress upward. To- gether they read the wonderfur Gospel -narratives, wherein is found the record of Him who spake as never man spake, who lived as never man lived, who died as never man died, that through that word and life and death the world might be redeemed from the thraldom of sin, and brought into oneness of life with the Father of us all! O how could she -so thought Mrs. Gardner-- have lived so-many years with this Book of books at hand, and yet have suffered it to remain sealed in its spirit to her household? To Isabella in her present state this record of a perfect life was as manna in the wilder- ness, as water in the desert. With Mrs. Gardner, it was going back to the familiar instruction of her childhood, which unfortunate circumstances had made void to her, and to which, as she now felt, she had turned a deaf ear, i CHAPI'ER XXTTT. MOTES AND BEAMS. THE little mote of gossip about Mr. Ferris and 'Margaret originated in this way. Betsy's most particular friend lived in a littht cottage in the suburbs of Rockville, and occasion ally Betsy allowed herself the recreation of taking a friendly cup of tea with her. Over this cup of tea they discussed matters of particular interest to each other, Mrs. Howe usually taking the lead, and giving her willing listener an account ofrher own and her neighbors' experiences since the last visit. This evening her record was a very brief and concise one indeed. After ascertaining that her visitor was helped to her taste to milk and sugar, and that she did not like the latter upon her slap- jacks, she said, "Malviny Burton's child's 'bout over the measles; Miss Spear's son hasn't been heard from yet--she's powerful anxious; and my minister's children, four babies as you may say, all on 'em's got the whooping-cough; eand she's laid up with rheu- matic fever. Poor man, he's a hard time on't, with an ailing wife an' all them child'en to look after." page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 EVERY DAY. The she referred to was of course the "poor man's " wife, though why she shouldn't be entitled to that commiserative epithet also, it would be hard to tell, except that the minister always gets the lion's share of sympathy in any family disturbances. But even this darling and usually inexhaustible topic, " my minister " and his family, was summarily disposed of on this occasion. Mrs. Howe probably thought it would keep over for- another visit, and before Betsy had time to say anything more than "Land sakes! how do they git along?" Mrs. Howe broke in with, " O, her sister's there, and they worry on somehow; but do tell, Betsy, 'bout the great doins up your way. All Rockville's a-talkin' 'bout this rich nabob. I expect some o' the things they say is stretched a bit, but when Nancy Hill told Sukey Bell, and Sukey's mother told me, that he was goin' to marry Miss Gardner's daughter, I was confounded- 'cause I thought, as Nancy worked by spells for your folks, she'd be sure to know the rights of it, though the last thing-I hearn afore this, was 'bout t'other lover, an' I didn't s'pose she'd got over that so soon." "Nancy Hill, indeed! much that chit knows what's goin' on in our houses!" "Well, but tell us, Betsy,how 'tis. Is he goin'- to marry her?" "Marry Miss Isabella? I -guess - not ;" and MOTES AND BEAMS. 235 the incredulous expression upon her face told her friend that rumor had been false this time. "Well, now, it is a pity some of the gals couldn't get him, such a nabob. I dare say now, Betsy, he hasn't got nothin' like common folks." "Yes, he has--eyes, nose, and mouth, and - a temper, though I never saw that, or no sign of it; but your good, gossiping folks say so, and they must know." "La, Betsy, I meant his cloes; don't he wear a velvet dressing-gown, and such?" "Never saw him -can't say but what he sleeps in 'em, though. I tell you what, Miss Howe, Mr. r Ferris is just as handsome, fine-spoken a young gentleman as ever you'd be likely to put your two eyes on." "Young?-la, I thought he was an old man; nabobs most generally is." "O, he's not so young as your neighbor's son over there, but he's not old - not so old as Dr. Lee by ever so many years. I call him young - as for his being a nabob 'that's all humbug. He's just a rich merchant what's made his money all honorable in trading with them China and Japan folks." "O, I thought he was a kind of a prince out there, with a lot of them pigtailed men to carry him round in a planqueen, or some kind of a machine." " Well, he's just plain Mr. Ferris, as to title, page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 EVERY DAY and can wait upon himself like the rest of us. As for Isabella, what an idea!p" "Perhaps," said Mrs. Howe, unwilling to give up the investigation, "perhaps it's Dr. Lee's daughter he's after. Dr. Lee's a first-rate man. How is it, Betsy? Ha! I've guessed right this time," she added triumphantly, looking at Betsy's compressed lips and queer expression; " that'll be nice, now won't it? Tell me all about it, Betsy." "There's nothing to tell, and if there was, I shouldn't tell it." "No need, no need; guess / haven't been a woman of some experience and a little gumption for nigh onto sixty years, and known you, Betsy Priam, full half on 'em, not, to know the set of your mouth and the cock of your eye when you won't tell nothin'. A - very - good - thing; very good for the Lees, indeed. Bless us! the slapjacks is dried to a cinder in the oven, and so's the toast. So much for a little friendly gossip. Do take a bit of this cake. It's made after Madame Southmere's rule." "Mrs. Howe, I haven't told you nothin', please remember that. I hope I know what's expected of me in a genteel family; an' you wouldn't find a genteeler, search the country through, than my fam- ily. I haven't told any of their secrets, and should ntht if there was any to tell. I leave that to the MOTES AND BEAMS. 237 Irishers, who go about tattlin' and abusin' the folks who's supportin' 'emr." "'Twa'n't an Irisher brought these stories, no. how. There's an' old sayin', Betsy, ' Give the- you know who - his due.' "You needn't be so respectful to him. I ain't afraid to call black black, nor " - "No more am I; but as I was sayin', what a nice man Dr. Lee is, an' poor folks say where he goes with his medicine and things, she follows arter with her gruels an' jellies an' broths." "You may believe that, Mrs. Howe. An' that's what I call genteel folks -always lookin' out for their neighbors' needs, an' "- but we may not fol- low Betsy farther in this visit, where her employers and friends met with strict justice from her words, and will only add, that when she left Mrs. Howe it was with a renewed caution not-to say that Mr. Ferris had any idea of marrying Margaret. Mrs. Howe meant to he as circumspect as Betsy had been, but her good husband had always said of her that she was a leaky vessel, and the less trusted to her keeping the better. And so it came to pass, by the aid of hints and looks and emphatic oh's and ah's, that all this par- ticular suburb of Rockville in a week's time fully believed that Mr. Ferris was engaged to Dr. Lee's pretty daughter Margaret. For had not Mrs. Brown page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 EVERY DAY. told Miss Clarke the dressmaker, that Mrs. Carter had heard from Mrs. Martin, who had it direct from a particular friend, who knew all about the Lees, that it was a fact? And this was the way that the little mote of conjecture dancing in a cup of tea in a suburb grew to a beam of certainty in Rockville Centre. Meantime, of all theexaggerated reports and idle rumors with a thread of truth running through the whole, none which came to the knowledge of Mr. Ferris disturbed him, till he heard of his reported engagement to Margaret. Mr. Freeman was the bold man who ventured to congratulate him upon it. Mr. Ferris looked at him with an expression of mingled anger and astonishment, and then said, "You are laboring under a very strange mistake, sir, and one which, for the young lady's sake, I beg you to correct. The excessive interest which I am aware some of the good people of Rockville take in my affairs does not disturb me one whit so long as it is confined to those personal to myself; but to involve a young girl in such miserable gossip seems to me quite unwarrantable." "And," said Mr. Freeman, in relating this pas- sage of words to a lady friend, " he bowed himself away with an air as stately as if he were an Eastern rajah condescending to speak to an inferior; but I am only the more sure that it will be an engage- I MOTES AND BEAMS. 239 ment sooner or later. I suppose he wishes to have her educated a little more for the position she is to fill." But it is quite time to leave Rockville's gossips, who after all comprised but a small portion of the community, and pass on to that part of our story which either confirms or refutes their conjectures. I I page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] CHAPTER XXTV. CROSS PURPOSES. As soon as Isabella's health was so far restored as to make it safe and agreeable for them to leave home, Dr. Lee and Mr. Ferris started upon their southern trip. Isabella made every effort to interest herself in all that was going on about her., When she was able to go- out, she spent some part of every day in Alice's pleasant room, and from her couch the little patient sufferer preached many a wordless ser- mon that helped her in her upward progress. And Alice became very fond of Isabella. Her former notice and attention, the child's heart, so unerring in its instincts, told her, did not spring from any great affection or depth of interest. But now she read love and compassion on her pale face, and she re- turned it with all the intensity of her loving nature. ( O Daisy, how sorry I do feel for Bella--so rosy once, just like my Miss Helen" (a favorite wax- dolD', "so white now, and so trembly when she comes up-stairs! Dear, dear, what can I do? "You can love her, darling." 4 That ain't anything. I love her now." cROss PURPOSES. 241 "'Perhaps some time, dear, you will know that loving is doing for her." Gradually Mrs. Lee excited Isabella's interest in one and another of the Doctor's poor patients whom he had left to his wife's care, and in this work her naturally kind heart found great satisfaction. And at home there were little attentions that she colld constantly pay to her father and mother, and which it gave her no less delight to render than it gave them to receive. Her young friends came to see her, but although she was usually bright and cheer- ful, some of them felt that she was no longer of them. Miss Theodosia Burton in particular, who lead, since Mr. Ferris's residence in Rockville, been a frequent visitor at the house, voted her slow and mopish. "Shouldn't wonder if she'd turned pious--pity if she has." "Never fear," said her companion, one of the girls who had commiserated Margaret on the occasion of Isabella's party, "she'll get over that when she's quite well an d strong; I can read Isa- bella just like a book, and I know she'll soon be her old self again." This young lady did not remember that even in the shallow books which she read there were pages quite beyond her comprehension, a nd . that such might be the case with a character like Isabella's. But whatever Miss Theodosia's verdict in regard to her, or that of any of her young friends, Isabella page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] :42 EVERY DAY. was changed, and although it was a change for the better, there were times when she was dull and depressed, and her young face bore marks of painful struggle. Mrs. Gardner consulted Mrs. Lee as to the expediency of taking her from home, but this the latter could not advise. She suggested sending for Blanche Monkton to make them a long visit, and this suggestion suited Isabella, who felt that Blanche's cheerfulness, strength of mind, and independence of character would be a help to her. There was nothing to prevent Blanche from ac- cepting Mrs. Gardner's cordial invitation, and she was soon established upon an intimate footing in both families. Even Betsy, who always regarded all new-comers with a jealous eye, pronounced heyr "a soft spoken, pleasant mannered young lady." Mrs. Gardner made this visit a pretext for resum- ing the pleasant social parties of the previous winter, that Isabella might again meet her old friends. Of the s"Brothers," Harry Winthrop and'Edgar Bond became frequent visitors at the house, and Rock- ville soon decided that the former was interested in Isabella, the latter in Miss Monkton. Mr. Selford also came out to see Blanche whenever he could; so at least she said, when Isabella pettishy wished he would attend to his studies. But whosoever came or went, it mattered little to Isabella, beyond the wish to make her friend's visit pleasant. CROSS PURPOSES. 243 And so with the new inward life struggling bravely on, gaining slowly day by day, even when there appeared to be a retrograde ,movement, and the old outward life changing as slowly, the winter passed away and spring returned, and with it the travellers in improved health and spirits. Mr. Ferris began his contemplated addition to Dr. Lee's house as soon as possible, and Margaret entered into the proposed change with quite as much eagerness and interest as any one. This interest did not escape Isabella's attention, and she some- times appeared strangely cold to Margaret. One day, just before Blanche was going home, Isabella, who was searching for something in her drawer, said abruptly to Blanche, who was sitting with her, "What do you think of Daisy?" "Think? Why, that she is a dear, good, lovely girl, and I could add any number of adjectives be- side." "O, that of course; what made me ask just now was, I came across this kaleidoscope, and that re- minded me of Daisy's emblem of life. If she only doesn't make a great botch now and spoil it all!" "What can you mean?" "It's been on my mind 'a little bit since I heard that story last winter about Uncle Harvey and Mar- garet, and now it is on my mind a good deal and must come out. Of course I didn't believe it at first, page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 EVERY DAY. j but since he came home they are so busy-over their plans, and it's Margaret this and Margaret that, that I begin to be afraid that Uncle Harvey does want to marry her, and that she'll marry him for money; there, it's out now, treason or no treason. I've half a mind to speak to her about it." 4I'm sure I would not," said Blanche; "just think how she would feel, how it would spoil all their pleasant relations with each other; and even if there should be any truth in it, why do you object? Why suppose she would marry him for money?" "Because- though I've no right to say it --I do think Margaret couldn't give her whole heart to Uncle Harvey. I believe, without knowing it in the least, she has her ideal of a lover in Harry Win- throp. And that's another thing I don't like. Harry's doing well enough here, and Uncle Harvey has tempted him with such a good offer, if he'll go out to Japan in his place for three or four years, that the poor fellow is going; and what a chance that'll be for Uncle Harvey, if he means anything." "Your imagination hasn't lost its power yet, Isa- bella. It seems very natural to me that Mr. Ferris should like the child of his friend, without wishing to marry her; and as for his sending Harry away for any such purpose as you suppose, it appears to be an absurddea." CROSS PURPOSES. 245 "Wait and see." "I will, and perhaps it is best for you to do the same; promise at least you'll not speak of this to Margaret?" "No, I won't speak of it; on several accounts I shouldn't like to; but I will give her my views upon interested marriages." She soon had an opportunity to do so, for Rock- ville had a new sensation. Eva Searles, after a protracted flirtation with young Metcalf, had just engaged herself to a man of immense wealth, with the slight drawhacks of want of education and re- finement, and thirty years' seniority. Isabella and Margaret talked it over, as did all the rest of their friends and acquaintances, some pityingly, some sneeringly, some wonderingly. "I always knew Eva was a heartless little thing," said Isabella, "but I never thought as badly as this of her --such desecration, and call it marriage!" "At least she has secured ease and luxury, and you know she always cared for that," said Marga- ret; " and if she hasn't a heart, why, how can you expect her to love?" "Well, each one to her taste, but I do think to marry for money, as one half the -girls do nowa- days, is sinful,-and such a vulgar old man, too'!" "How can you possibly tell, Isabella, that half the girls marry for money? Very fiw make hmatches like this." page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 EVERY DAY. "Common sense would tell anybody they did. They want it for the dress and amusements they must have; and I suppose a Daisy like you has never noticed how very fascinating a rich man is, no matter what his character. How many of the girls who have been so attentive to me since Uncle Harvey's return, care for anything but money?" -"It isn't delicate to be attentive to a girl because she has a rich uncle, but surely Mr. Ferris is attrac- tive enough to be cared for, for himself." "Do you think so?" "Certainly, and so did you once." "Perhaps I do still, but I hold to my opinion that but for his money Harry Winthrop, Gussy Blake, Edgar Bond, and half a dozen others I could name, would be more attractive. Don't you think so?" "Money is a good thing," said Margaret, eva- sively. "I always maintained that it was, and now it seems you are coming round to my view; but, Mar- garet Lee, in my most foolish time I never, never would have given myself for money." "Neither would I, if I know myself," said Mar- garet thoughtfully, " though perhaps some of us are not aware of the influence it might have in deter- mining our liking. Poor Eva, she can't even fancy she likes this man." "Well," said Isabella sharply, not muchsatisfied CROSS PURPOSES. 247 with the result of this little strategic attempt to sound Margaret, "( as your mind is rather unsettled upon the point, perhaps you'll marry for money some day." "Perhaps I may, but - besu Violet, dear, I'll marry for love as- well," and Margaret ran out of the room, laughing, but thinking that Isabella was almost cross that day. Blanche Monkthn went home a few weeks after that, and to Mrs. Gardner's cordial invitation to come and visit them again very soon, answered that she hoped to see them before long in Seafort. A few days after her departure a servant brought in a letter to Isabella as she and her mother were sitting together in the latter's room. "From Blanche, mother; O, I'm so glad!" She opened it, ran hastily over the first page, and then exclaimed with all her old impulsiveness, "Idiot!" "Who, Blanche? not very complimentary." "Myself-- ourselves, anybody, everybody - not to have had a suspicion." "Don't hurry, dear, but you are slightly tortur- ing." "O, I'll read the letter, or part of it." "' MY DEAR TSAR TRT TA,- We wish to give Rock- ville a surprise matrimonial in return for Rockville's page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 EVERY DAY. kindly interest in the senior "we." Do you like me, dear, well enough to accept me for an aunt in name and affection, if not in fact? At all events your mind will be set at rest from the fear that Margaret Lee will marry Harvey Ferris, he being otherwise engaged.' Then followed a cordial invitation to the wedding, which was to take place early in June, messages to the Lees, etc., etc.- "One - two --three --six weeks' acquaintance, -how very sly they were about it. Mother, did you ever suspect it?" "No, but Harvey told me after Blanche left, and then I wondered that I had not. It was a case of love at first sight on his part. If you remember how very brilliant and beautiful Blanche looked that evening of his return in her blue silk and coral ornaments, and hoy gay she was, you will not won- der that a man who has seen so little of ladies should have been attracted by her. And he told me when he found that her mind and heart matched her other attractions, he determined to woo and win her if in his power. I think she was soon inter- esti in him also, but both agreed upon one point, that their interest and engagement should be kept secret. Don't you like it, dear? I know of no one whom I should like so much to see Harvey's wife as Blanche." CROSS PURPOSES. 249 "Like it? I suppose I shall more than like it when I get over the blow - I mean being stunned Let me hear it--Harvey Ferris and Blanche Monkton engaged--yes, it sounds very well in- deed. But never to have suspected it! and you say youitidn't either?" "No, though I wonder I didn't. They are so suited to each other. Harvey told me when he first came home that he should marry if he found any one whom he could love; but after he had seen some of our ladies, - he was unfortunate in those he did see, --he appeared to give up the idea; and Blanche is so unlike most young ladies with gentle- men, that is, she is so perfectly natural and so much at her ease, that I never thought of that interest be- tween them." "Blanche must think me a fool I " was Isabella's next remark. "Why so, dear?" i Isabella repeated her fears for Margaret, and what she had said to Blanche. "I am surprised that you should have had such an idea. It seems to me as if all Rockville was playing the game of cross purposes. It is fortunate the poor victims have a word to say in the matter your Uncle Harvey and Margaret! Margaret is a dear, sweet girl, but she is a child in many things, and your uncle is old for his years. No, page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 EVERY DAY. he wants in a wife just what he will have in Blanche, -a woman of sense and character and in- dependence, and of attractions, too, which will em- bellish the home he can offer her." "O well, it's all right, I've no doubt; but as the egg said when it found itself a chicken, you can't expect me not to be astonished. And what's to become of Mademoiselle Blanche's woman's rights theories, and all her views upon various subjects which we have talked over together?" "Your uncle will respect her opinions, and never interfere with any true rights of hers." "He to be decider thereupon? I wish them joy of each other for a couple of the most determined people I ever met with, or, to use my own word, obstinate, or, to use Betsy's, ' settest.' I'm going to write at once.' And this is part of Isabella's congratulatory letter to Blanche. MY DEARLY BELOVED AUNT ELECT,--Not of my election, however, for you and Uncle Harvey are about the last people I should have supposed congenial. .Still I wish you joy, and in time may forgive you for this great surprise. My revenge, therefore, will come when Rockville pours upon you the vials of its wrath for having so completely reversed its matrimonial decisions. Does Uncle CROSS PURPOSES. 251 Harvey, poor deluded man, know your views upon equal' rights, and does he know how many victims have already been immolated upon the shrine of your attractions?" "But, mother," ilid Isabella, a few days after the first surprise of this engagement, " what becomes of Uncle Harvey's having a home with Dr John; surely he will never-take Blanche there?" "He hopes to do so for a year. Rockville has hit upon the truth in one respect, though when the story was started your uncle had no more idea of buying the Southmere place than your father had. But he has bought it, and contemplates extensive alterations, such as it will take a year to complete. Whilst these alterations are going on, he has Dr. and Mrs. Lee's permission to occupy the new wing with his bride." "And after they leave 3)r. John's?" "I am telling you afl his secrets- not secret from you though, but/from Rockville at present. He intends the wing as a present to Alice, and he has drawn up a deed of gift of twenty thousand dollars to Dr. John." "How did he receive it?" "With many stout dewa u may be sure, till Harvey reasoned them out of him, reminding him of his wife and children's destitute condition in page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 252 EVERY DAY. case of his death, and also reminding him that he was only giving him now what would be his event- ually. Besides, he charges himself with the educa- tion of Harvey, and placing George in a good mer- cantile situation." + "Does Blanche like all this B" "If she did not like it she would not be worthy to be your uncle's wife; but she does like it. She will go hand in hand with him in generous deeds and in works of love and kindness." "What does Betsy say to this addition to the family? Isabella had never been able to get over regard- ing Betsy as a domestic tyrant. "I do not know; but as she is so interested in the family, she will not object." This is what Betsy did say, however, when Mrs. Lee told her of Mr. Ferris's engagement to Blanche Monkton, and of his wish to bring his bride there for a year." ?, "You don't mean it, Mrs. Lee? "Mean what?" "That he's goin' to marry Miss Monkton and bring her right here after"- "After what?" "Well, some folks haven't eyes to be sure -let 'em be blind then,"--she muttered; aloud she said, -"it isn't likely I could suit with the new goin's CROSS PURPOSES. \ 258 on; s'pose Betsy Jane'll be glad to have me live with her; give her more time to spend a-spilin' her dElld'en." "Betsy!" ' "Ma'am." "Have you takenileave of your senses?" "Guess not so much's some other folks;" and then her indignation would not be pent up any longer, and she sand, "If you had half an eye fou'd a seen he wanted Margaret till this soft- voiced gal came along and beguiled him." "Wanted Margaret!!I did think, Betsy, you had more sense; and so this is what all your strange speeches have meant!' He has never thought of Margaret, nor she of him, in that light, and more than that, neither her father nor I would have liked such a thing. O Betsy, Betsy! good, faithful, old friend, wasn't it enough that half Rockville have been intent upon marrying Mr. Ferris to Margaret, without your taking up the idea and wishing it too? j Do let the child be a child as long as she may. Hush! here she is; " and Margaret appeared singing, "Let's haste to the wedding," and seeing by Betsy's expression that she had been told the news, ex- claimed, "Isn't it good news, Betsy? You liked Miss Monkton so much, you know, and now we shall have her always first here in the house, and then for a neighbor." page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 EVERY DAY. Poor, Betsy, convicted out of her own mouth, knew not what to say; but at last answered, "One may like a body, and not want 'em in the same house. Never know till you've summered and win- tered folks, whether they're all they seem. S'pose it can't be helped." And when Betsy thought it all over, and Mrs. Lee told her of Mr. Ferris's generous deeds in their behalf, she relented enough to say, "Well, well, it's no use plannin' in this world; some folks never will see what's best for 'em." CHAPTER XXV. FOUR YEARS LATER. FOUR years have passed since Rockville was electrified, one bright June morning, with the news of Harvey Ferris's marriage to Blanche Monkton, years which, if they have brought in their swift pas- sage no other surprise as great as that, have at least brought marked changes in the two households with which our story has interest and concern. Dr. John, the beloved physician and friend, has passed on beyond that veil at once so impenetrable and so transparent, -so impenetrable to mortal vision, so transparentto the eye of faith ; passed on, to that higher service he so longed to enter, when he felt that service here was over for him; passed on, to receive, no doubt, the commendation, ("Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord;" passed on, leaving behind him a memory sacred to many hearts, to whom he had seemed at times an angel of deliverance. A year of work such as he had never been able to perform since his troubles in the army, was granted him after his return home from his southern trip with apparently page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 EVERY DAY. reestablished health, and then came to Rockville a fearful epidemic; one of those diseases, the very name of which has power to blanch the mother's cheek, and make her heart throb with anxious fore- bodings. The Scarlet fever raged in Rockville as it had never been known to do before. No locality was too select, none too common for its inroad. From stately mansion to- lowly hovel it went, followed in the greater number of instances by the "Reaper whose name is Death." "I My Lord has need of these flowerets gay, The Reaper said and smiled; Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where He was once a child." And day and night, whenever or wherever his professional services were required, Dr. John fol- lowed this terrible scourge, -- where he could not save, giving strength by the powerful magnetism of his great, tender heart. How the little children smiled feebly upon him when too sick to speak, and when they did not appear to recognize him, would be soothed by his touch and voice! How mothers hung upon his looks and words, sure that if they found a sad truth in them, they would have his warm sympathy for their griefs! But this strain upon heart and mind was too much for him; and when he came home early one day from a round of visits, and laid down to rest, he felt FOUR YEARS LATER. 257 that his work on earth was done. He knew the symptoms of the low fever which had fastened upon his worn and exhausted frame. In his short sick- ness he was too feeble to say much to wife, children, and friends, but the few words he did speak were priceless legacies to them all. And what need had he to speak, or they to listen? Had not his life, as day followed day in its round of cares and duties, spoken to them as no words could speak? And when the " last of earth" came to him, it was calm and peaceful, even as a little child falls asleep rf in its mother's arms, and upon his face was " that awful and beautiful peace which is the farewell of the soul to its servant." To the members of his own household Dr. John never died; that is, he was always present to them in loving remembrance and veneration, an inspira- tion to guide and help, when guidance and help were needed. Of the unutterable yearnings at times for the visible presence, the tender tones, the warm, strength-giving hand clasp, we may not speak, further than to say that these longings strengthened their belief in a future reunion. Margaret had matured into a lovely and attract- ive girl, no longer a child in years or appearance, though still childlike in truthful simplicity. There were indications that to "that sort of love " which had once filled to the brim her measure of happi- 17 page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 EVERY DAY. ness, had been added another, true, deep, and holy; but however that might be, her sphere at present was in her mother's home, and the lanes and by- ways of life into which every true home widens. To aid and comfort her mother, to be to Alice as far as possible in place of the active life she never could hope to enjoy, to be a true sister to her brothers, to lend a helping hand to all within her circle of influ- ence, every day, as she found opportunity, - this was her sphere, this her happiness. Everything that love and skill and money could do for Alice had been done to alleviate her misfor- tune, but she was disabled for life, though not without her mission in the world -for Margaret calls her their " household angel," and Betsy " that blessed child," and many a kindred sufferer has rea- son to be grateful for her thoughtful kindness. Betsy no longer reigns supreme over Mrs. Lee's kitchen, for age and rheumatism have abridged her powers of labor. Poor Nancy Hill, who is now a fixture in the family, has no sinecure in the office she holds under Betsy's supervision, and exposed to her snubbing. To all this household "4 a good time " has come by steady persistency in the way of right, never on the look-out for the great thing to do, and yet when it eame to them fitted to do it by the faithfulness of their daily lives; able to bear separation, sickness, FOUR YEARS LATER. ', 259 adversity, and even bereavement serenely, if not always cheerfully. And what has four years done for the Gardners, whom we left struggling to undo the past, by press- ing forward to a new life? The mental and spiritual struggle through which Mrs. Gardner was passing when our story left her, has not been without its outward tokens. Her health suffered, and she has grown older in' looks than the lapse of four years would warrant, but she has gained a repose of manner which indicates a soul resting in calm reliance upon the hope, sure and steadfast, which is now hers. Her husband is one with her in the new interests and aims of her life. They still live in the generous and hospitable manner which their wealth makes a duty as well as pleasure; but the character of their hospitality is changed, including as it does in its exercise not only their friends, but those who can make them no re- turanbut gratitude. Isabella has not become dull or mopish; on the contrary her vivacity, if less sparkling, is more con- stant, and the "blues" find no lodgment in her ac- tive mind. After her health was restored she went back to madame's school, and spent nearly three years in reviewing former neglected studies, and attending to some new ones. As she progressed in moral and spiritual as well as eitelletual cture, page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 EVERY DAY. she found that less and less of the ,"undoing? she dreaded devolved upon her, and she lea rned to value and enjoy the results of patient dail labor, finding therein a satisfaction her kaleidoscopic life had never given her. Her style of dress is one of simple elegance,o which offers no example to those of limited means to spend their precious time in that excess of decoration which is the fashion of the day, and which is not only disfiguring but de- moralizing. As yet no true love has taken the place of the false which came so near making a shipwreck of her young life. Admirers she has, but she treats them with that cordial frankness which admits of no nearer approach than friendship. When her friends laugh at her coldness, she says, "If I ever marry, it will be a man who can be my master - not in the sense of ruling over me, but in that of superiority." Four years have given to Mr. and Mrs. Ferris a deservedly influential position in Rockville. They brought into that old community an independent but not arrogant spirit; and if they did not intro- duce any new theories, they had at least the moral courage to live some old ones. Neither indolence nor fear of Mrs. Grundy kept them from ordering their extensive and generous establishment in such a manner as to promote comfort, happiness, and the ex- ercise of the Christian virtues and graces. Blanche rOUR YEARS LATER. 261 is emphatically the "mainspring" of that home, and whatever desire she mighthave had in her girl- ish days ,"to be the hands that point on the dial," as yet she has found no time to occupy that conspic. UOus position. Not a little of her time is given to a sprightly, bewitching little maiden, now two years old, who is known on the baptismal record as Alice Lee, but who, with the usual despotism of such small tyrants, persists in calling herself Ally-too, and when called by any other name, shakes her golden-brown curls and says, "No, no, no,---Ally-too." Her adoption of this name arose from Alice Lee's saying to her one day, when she was just beginning to put words sogether, , Do you know, darling, that my name Is Alice too?" Both Mr. and Mrs. Ferris have their ' special- ties." To all wayward, perplexed youth of either ex, he, remembering his early moral perils and ! scapes, is ever a kind counselor and friend. She, Tod bless her, in the full glory of her pure, spot- *ss womanhood, is doing her best to solve the roblem how to lend a helping hand to the unfor- nate of her own sex, so many of whom have been eacherously lured into the paths of sin. fz, page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] CHAPTER XXvI. A REUNION. "I THOUGHT birthday parties one of the things of the past, Margaret, but look at this, though I suppose you have a note also." " Yes, isn't it good of Uncle Harvey to give us a party? He has fixed upon the Wednesday between our birthdays, so that I shall not be quite twenty- one. I can't get a word out of Blanche as to what the party is to be. Just think, the last was when we were sixteen!" "Yes, and I must confess your mosaic work has progressed finely, and out of your material you've made a lovely pattern," said Isabella, fondly strok- ing Margaret's soft brown hair. "Isn't that a bit of flattery, dear?" "The truth, and nothing else; and I owe you the truth for thinking in those days that you were a little bit tame and humdrum. Now I know you had many a dark piece in your mosaic that, with some girls, would have spoiled their work." "No thanks to me that it didn't. It was all dear father and mother's credit," and Margaret's eyes A REUNION. 263 moistened, as they often did in speaking of him who was always "I dear father." "And, Isabella, I had one very dark bit indeed that I never told you of; at least for a little while. I wonder if it had really been as I feared, what I should have done with it?" . "You speak in riddles, child." "Do you remember how sick I was last autumn?" "Yesesa queer sickness - I thought it was then - no fever, and no especial cause for it, as far as I knew." "Perhaps," said Margaret, her color rising to a deep carnation, and speaking rapidly, "you did not know that Harry Winthrop was expected home then, and that instead came tidings that he had died from a dreadful fever then raging in Yokohama. 0 Isabella, if it had been true! I thought it was. I could see nothing bright then, and I couldn't see how anything bright could ever come from it. Uncle Harvey said it was not well authenticated, and he didn't really believe it; but there was the awful suspense, and then to wait till another mail. O, those weeks seemed months, and I took a little, cold and gave out entirely, and then the good news came that he never had had the fever, but the gen- tleman in the firm with whom he was to have left the business, had it and died, and that delayed Harry's coming home. No," answering an in- page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] ; SVEIRY DItY. quiring look, "I was not engaged to Harry, but before he left I knew that he cared for me, and I- I have never cared for any one else. Allthatthere was to know about its dear father and mother knew; it was little enough, so little, even you, Isabella, would never have known of it, had he died of that fever." "Yes, dear, I understand now--blind not to have seen it all before ; tell me all about it, girl-fash- ion,--we are not quite a hundred yet; that is, all you may tell," and Isabella drew the blushing Margaret down beside her, and put her arm lov- ingly round her waist, and taking her hand, saw a pearl ring upon it. "Ah, that tells part of the story -pearls though, not diamonds?" "Yes, Harry says I am a pearl--my name you know; and he couldn't think of anything else for this ring." "And many another pretty thing he said too, or I'll say for him, about your being his pearl, and "- " Let me tell my story. As soon as he got home he came to see my mother and told her--well-- what he wanted, and pretty soon she called me down, and--no matter for the rest, Violet, only he has never loved any one but me, and I--I didn't love him of course, but I never liked any one as I did him from that night he was so good to me at your party." A REvUNION. 26 "Does Uncle Harvey know this?" "Yes, certainly, Harry told him; he is to be his partner, you know, the working partner, Uncle Harvey says; and, O, I am so happy - if only dear father was here! but mother says she is sure he must know the happiness, at least. O Isabella, I wish you were happy in just this way. Poor Ed- gar!" "Edgar Bond! he knows I never can love him. If I ever love, it will be a man who commands my entire respect: that won, he may look for some- thing more; whether,he will find it or not I can- I not say. What shall w wear?" "O, that's another thing. I am to wear white muslin and rose-colored ribbons; you- Mrs. Blanche wishes you to wear white and blue." "' Very well, bring the dear youth to see me - rather for me to see him. I suppose he has eyes but for one. Good-by, dear; I haven't wished you happiness, but I do, and you'll have it; and you'll go on with, your beautiful pattern c every day,' till you have finished your work here, and then-, Harry may call you Pearl and Daisy, and all manner of sweet names, but he doesn't half know how good you are;" and Isabella kissed her friend and left her abruptly, and her mental refrain was, "the true and false -the true and false." Mr. and Mrs. Ferris's, invitations for the party : ^ * '.? * ' page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] " EVERY DAY. were to a social tea at seven o'clock. Isabella was a little late, and when she arrived all the guests were there, arid to her surprise she found -the party, with a few additions, to consist mostly of thoseiwho had taken part in their last birthday celebration From far and near Mr. Ferris had gathered them in, some from the South, some from the West, and some from abroad. First to catch Isabella's eye was Margaret, lovely in her pure white dress, simply made and looped up with roses, her face radiant with her new-found -happiness, and beside her, Harry Winthrop, who, though on duty to attend to the guests, was never very long from his betrothed. Next, Arabella Liver- more, now Mrs. Hayford, came sweeping towards her, and looking with her handsome husband as if so far she had sailed her ship of life much as she fore- shadowed it. She had come from Paris to attend this party, she told Isabella. "In fact, there was no reason why they should not come. They had nothing to do but enjoy themselves." "That tells their story," said Isabella with a ring of satire in her voice, as she carried Margaret off to greet the girls of five years ago, many of whom had been absent from Rockville the greater part of that time. "I see most of them are here. Emma, dear little snowdrop, is in that better land, from Thence A REUNIONl. 267 she seemed to have strayed only for a little time. Elsie, poor girl, where is she?" "Hush, she is here, but up-stairs. You know she made that unfortunate match with that miserable impostor, Count-somebody; he proved to be, or to have been a count's valet; he abused her- made her sing and play in public, and finally de- serted her. Her life has had little of the mad joy she longed for, but much of the stormy and sad. Uncle Harvey heard of her after she came back poor and heart-broken, and as he knew something of her history, was interested for her, and gave her a home. Mrs. Blanche is just the person to draw her out of herself, and make her as happy as she can ever be. She has already got a class of pupils for her." "I shall come and see her to-morrow." "Isabella, there is Eva Brompton." "I shan't speak to her unless she comes in my way. If she'd married Metcalf, sappy a lhe is, I should have had some respect for her, for strmight have fancied she loved him, but this man--he's worse than report said, and report is not usually too flattering," was Isabella's indignant comment, as the delicate, lovely Eva, superbly dressed in thread lace over white silk, and with beautiful pearl orna- ments on head, neck, and arms, floated into the room on the arm of a stout, vulgar-looking, loud-voiced / v *^ ^ page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] EVERY DAY. old man, who more than once in the evening w as heard from a distant part of the room speaking of "my wife." "She thinks her life is settled for Iher after her wishes - silks, laces, diamonds, velvets, and all conceivable luxuries, but if she doesn't find and means to make practice of them. "Well, I may join the ranks yet; not that I don't find enough to do so far, but one must have an object in life; and when I've been amongst your father's p oor, Daisy, I've often wished I knew something of "edicine._ Where's the little girl who found so much poetry in housework, and whom you so stoutly defended ?" "She's putting her theory in practice, too, bright- nig a Western farmer's home, and diffusing her brightness far and wide over other prairie homes, from whatI hear." Good! I like that; but you've forgotten Carrie Blake." "She couldn't bquite make up her mind to come, though she's beginning to look upon her lost dar-s ling as having gone to his true home. Shesays she never knew, till she lost that child, a want in her A REUNION. 269 gay life; it was all-satisfying; but since, she says, it seems when she wakes at night as if she could hear the baby voice saying, 'Here, mamma,' and see him stretching out his little arms towards her, as he used to do while living. He was sick so short a time - only a few hours - she says she ' cannot make him dead, and that where he is her heart is drawn too. And Gussy -Gustavus, I ought to call him now- 'is so kind and tender to her. O, I don't believe the loss of that child can be anything but a blessing to them." "Carrie has a heart, and that'll help her out and up ; where that organ is wanting, fuss and feath- ers and gauds will heal all wounds," said Isabella glancing contemptuously at Mrs. Brompton, who, languidly reclining in an arm-chair, was flirting, her jeweled fan, as if even that action was an effort. "Margaret, who is that? you didn't tell me there ,f was a lion here--look at his mane," and she pointed towards a tall, finely-formed man, whose attention seemed directed towards them, and'whose beard and a pair of very brilliant black eyes were the prominent attraction of his face. "That's a friend of Uncle Harvey's from abroad. He's coming to be introduced. Yes, Harry,' I'll go to the conservatory with you. Isabella has kept me long enough," and Margaret moved off with her lover, with a mischievous side glance at Isabella. page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270 EVERY DAY. Just as Mr. Ferris mentioned the t4 lion's " name, crash went a vase upset by some careless passer-by, and it the confusion consequent upon picking up the fragments and receiving condolences fora plenti- ful share of the water upon her white dress and blue sash, Mr. Ferris walked off to other guests, leaving Isabella talking to a man of whom she knew neither his name nor nationality. However, June weather and flowers and travelling are safe, and, with some persons, prolific subjects, and Isabella was soon roused into something like real interest in her com- panion. She made some remarks that gave him to understand that she thought he was a foreigner. He smiled, and that smile touched some chord in her memory, she couldn't tell what, but thought it con- nected with some unpleasant association. Howevr, the smile was gone in a moment, but tlfe feeling remained, and Isabella was not sorry to be claimed by Edgar Bond for a dance, though his compli- mentary commonplaces sounded more commonplace than ever after the conversation of a man who was wide awake, and evidently thought he had come into the world to be of some use in it. This she said to Margaret, a little later in the evening, who seemed to find her remark very amusing. "I should like to know his name; once I ac- tually said Mr. Li-- I was thinking of our chat about the lion." A REUNION. 271 "You must ask Uncle Harvey, he's on his way to us. I've not been introduced to him;" and be- fore Isabella could express her surprise, she said, "this is a very pleasant party with the flowers and music and dancing and fine dresses, but I can't help thinking-- 'Mingle ye who mingle may.' How far-off these fine ladies seem. What do you suppose Uncle, Harvey's idea was in giving this party?" "I've just been wondering--but here he is. Uncle Harvey, I've two questions to ask; one is, perhaps, not the most polite in the world, still I ask it. Whv did you give this party?" "From mixed motives; partly in hono/o my young friends,"--looking at Margaret,--"partly from curiosity to see the principal actors in five years agone foreshadowing of life, partly to convince a somewhat cynical young lady of my acquaintance that there are not a few even among the young who lead rational lives." "But I'm not- convinced by this party. Rather take for a fair judgment a dozen girls whom we both know, beginning with Miss Theodosia, and ending with foolish Annie Farnham, who spends more time and strength and thought in remodeling, renewing, and finishing her clothes, than a dozen Miss Theo- page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] 272 EVERY DAY. dosias even. Take these girls and see how they spend their time. It's party, ball, or concert, dress and redress, and preparation for the same, a large part of their time; while the good work they might do, the rich in helping the poor and sick, and the not rich in aiding their own mothers at homr, is not done. Don't I know, Uncle Harvey-wasn't I of them?" "Yes, child, and so much the more likely to be too severe and sweeping in your censure. I think better of your sex than I did before I knew yonder estimable woman," he said laughingly, looking to- wards his wife. ? "I hope you are right, but can't stop to argue now. For query second, please tell me who your friend is to whom you introduced mze a while ago. Whoever he is, he knows what he came into the world for, and isn't going to help make girls simple- tons by idle flattery. I like a man who can' speak the truth to a girl without any allusion to her beau- tifil eyes, etc., etc. I hope he hasn't an unpro- nounceable name." "O no, quite the reverse; here he comes.. Let me reintroduce you to our friend - Mr. Selford." / , PHAPTER XXvll. B. SELFORD. ISABELI A gave a start of genuine surprise, but her self-possession did not desert'her, and she said, "Excuse me, Mr. Selford, but I misunderstood Mar- garet. I thought she said that you were a foreigner, and," with an arch glance at his face, "it's not very strange that I didn't recognize you." "No foreigner, but every, inch of me an Ameri- can-I might say a Yankee of Yankees. I love my country all the better for having left her for three years or upwards; but I should have known you any- where, or after any lapse of time, Miss Isabella." It's not so much place or time, Mr. Selford, it's partly, it's wholly growth---I don't mean in inches," and this time her coolness forsook her, for ' what inference but a flattering one could he draw from her words? He came to her relief, however, with no little tact, and said, " O, I understand, but it's only a growth that may be here to-day and there to-morrow." "If he takesit that way," thought Isabella, " it's i "very well, and that odious beard does change page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] 274 EVERY DAY. him;" and before she/9ould answer him, a diversion occurred in her favor, for her uncle came to beg Mr. Selford to join the musical party at the piano and play upon his flute. As she stood listening to melody which indicated a master's skill, Blanche passed her and mischiev- ously whispered, - "With an eve that takes the breath, And the lute he plays upon Shall strike ladies into trouble." - Isabella didn't very well know what passed the rest of the evening, for she was wondering how the. B. Selford of her former acquaintance, red-haired, lanky, obtrusive, and altogether disagreeable, could have changed into this man so--well, altogether so different. She had a vague impression that the 'music, both vocal and instrumental, was very fine, and that it wasas pretty sight to see the ladies and gentlemen making their adieux to Mr. and Mrs. Ferris, each in her or his characteristic fashion, and that she hoped her uncle was gratified with the " varieties " he had gathered under his roof, and she was sure he must be satisfied with the pleasure he had given Harry and Margaret. Then her thoughts wandered off again to the impression Mr. Selford had made upon her that evening, and to the earlier impression at Seafort, and at last she was aroused out of her B. SELFORD. 275 reverie by her mother's touching her arm and telling her that they were amongst the last, and must go home. When she went to say good-night to Mr. and Mrs. Ferris, there stood Mr. Selford, and he saw them to their carriage, and Mrs. Gardner asked him to call, and Isabella wondered what would be the end of it all. Other people wondered also what would be the end of it all, for Mr. Selford made it very manifest what his especial object was in remaining at Rock- ville, for his attentions to Isabella were constant and devoted. On her part, she liked him and she didn't like him. She liked the man with whom she had had fifteen minutes' natural, easy conversation the evening of the party, and who had impressed her with his ear- nestness of purpose, and manly straightforwardness. She didn't like the man who was associated in her mind with the most trying period of her life, and whom she then had regarded with positive dislike. But her standard of what makes a gentleman had changed since those days, and but for - she left the thought tinfinished and returned to the present at- tractions; and so she went on balancing one side against the other, till she could have hardly told which preponderated. Then his very devotion irritated her. Had a man of his ability no better work in life than to dance page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] 276 EVERY DAY. attendance upon a wayward girl - for such she still was in affairs of the heart? Why didn't he leave her to find out what her mind was, which she could never do while he ap- peared so supremely happy in her presence. t This capriciousness on Isabella's part disturbed her mother, and one day after she had made some severe remark about Mr. Selford, Mrs. Gardner said, 4"You are unjust; I do not see what there is in his character or conduct to merit your strict- ures -a man of so much character, and so much intellectual development and cultivation!" "I am not unjust to him, mother. The opinion you have of him proves that I am not. To think that a man like him should be willing to run in the ordinary grooves of life! Why doesn't he make a way for himself, over hill and valley; why wait to have the rails laid upon which he is to follow the same swift, level career with thousands of others? Then if he cares for me, why doesn't he say so with his lips, and not follow every look and word of mine as if he thought I was some divinity to be adored from afar? It wouldn't make any differ- ence, though, except to settle my mind and put him at rest, for I never shall marry any one to stay here and live on in the old tiresome round of dressing, visiting, and goodness - yes, even the goodness is tame to me; and then there are so many people who -B. SELFORD. 2" know what a gay, thoughtless girl Isabella Gardner used to be. Margaret, dear child, will go on making a beautiful life out of her little bits, but I can't do it. I've enough of the old spirit left in me to wish for a little variety in my life still." "Do you know Mr. Selford's plans for the fiuture?" asked Mrs. Gardner, without noticing Isabella's reference to herself. "I suppose so. I know he has engaged a room in one of Uncle Harvey's buildings in the city for a law office. I even heard him say when he wished to take possession, or rather fix the date when the room would' be wanted, and I know he used to talk law when he was a verdant youth in that 'isle of the blest,' Seafort." "I happen to know through your Uncle Harvey that the office is engaged for a friend, and that his life-work is to be something very different from fol- lowing in any set groove." "I'm glad to hear it, though I suppose as he has means he's going to do nothing better than roam about the world. I heard him say something of the sort once." "I do not know as to that; very likely he may in the future. At present he intends to go West as a missionary." "A missionary! of what sort? In whose be- half?" *t page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 EVERY DAY. "Of the sort which Christ sent out into the world to preach his gospel- in behalf of, the weary and heavy laden, the benighted and sinful!" "Why did you let me be sh unjust to him? What a grand thing for him to do!" "It was not my part to tell you of his plans. In fact, I have only known this a few days." The result of this communication was to give to Isabella's manner to Mr. Selford the next time she met him a degree of cordiality not unmingled with embarrassment, that raised hopes on his part which her recent coldness had almost dispelled. Opportunity favored him. He called at Mrs. Gardner's, found Isabella alone, and told his story in a direct, honest fashion, which had far more weight with her than if he had declared himself her slave and adorer. Five minutes passed, and he had spoken words to which she had not said nay, which opened before them an united life, a life " wherein its joys are doubled, its sorrows divided," a life of earnest purpose, of high endeavor. At the point of their interview when, from the realization of a long- cherished hope on his side, and the tumultuous rush of emotions which filled her whole being, it was almost too "feeling full," --she said demurely, "Am I expected to call you B.? JIt's short and suggestive of- some things, but rather an uncom- mon diminutive is it not?" B. SELFORD. 279 "Is it possible you don't know my Christian name?" "Very possible -so possible I didn't know as you had a Christian name. I wonder if you'll forgive me, if I tell you what I used to call you in the old, giddy days?" "Not surely the unchristian name beginning with B?" "Not so bad as that; only Burr." "That is my name, or part of it. Burleigh is the whole; because the boys teased me and called me Burr, I gave only my initial when we moved to Seafort. I'll merit the name, however, as a pun- ishment to you, perhaps even the prickly part." ' Do ; I don't like people who only prophesy smooth things, and I'm sure I don't believe I should like it one it in a "- Here she blushed scarlet, and again he was gener- ous, and without apparently noticing her confusion, said gravely, "We will be our true selves, and turn the pricks, if there be any, into spurs. It's only in- dolea and vain people who find their happiness promoted by walking in the ' flowery paths of ease,' and being worshipped as oracles of wisdom. But I must not bind you to my fortunes, Isabella, without fully explaining to you what these fortunes may be. My early purpose was, as you know, to study law. While I was in college, a circumstance oc- page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 EVERY DAY. curred which showed me that I had great power over my classmates - a power used for their good. I tremble to think what might have been, had I been disposed to use it otherwise. On shipboard a' harsh captain and discontented crew gave me an- other opportunity of testing this influence, and I re- solved to use it henceforth for the good of my race. Abroad I became a student of books and men, and what I learned I practiced, for there is no place-so quiet or seemingly so fri-ee from temptation to sin, where opportunity does not come to the willing soul to do good. My plan for the future is this: to be ordained as an evangelist, to have the blessing of our friends and the holy sacrament of marriage up- on that union which is to make us one in heart and life, and then to go West as a missionary to what- ever obscure village or distant outpost I may find, to carry there the good tidings of the gospel of love to God and man, to those who perchance do not know'if there be a Lord Jesus Christ. Perhaps in time it may be given to me to live my belief so earnestly and truly that I can go to the large cities and speak the word in season that shall rouse the slumbering consciences of those who are cast into the mire and filth of sin and misery. Will you, can "you, dearest Isabella, join me heart and hand in this work, not delaying progress by debating which work is thine and which is mine, but together, B. SELFORD. 281 'equal yet diverse,' doing the work before us in the field white for harvest, laying down for ourselves no fixed rules, no settled plan but this, to work with diligence at whatsoever work our hands find to do while yet it is day?" "I can and I will, with heart and hand, so help me God!" and the blue eyes she raised to meet his earnest gaze were beautiful with the divine light of the soul which shone out from them, and the fair white hand she placed in his was given and received as a pledge of love and truth. It was in effect Dr. John's watchword which they accepted as the rule of their lives. With this watchword, with youth and strength, and Christian faith and courage, who shall measure the good work they shall do in the wide field of the world? Who shall measure the good or evil we all may do according as we spend the days that make up the sum of our existence? The fearful tragedies of life, no less than heroic acts of self-sacrifice, are en- wrapped in the tiny seeds sown day by day in the heart, through word and action. We know not but what!" every day" may be preparing at our very door, nay, within our own homes, some start- ling .catastrophe, which shall be as strange and hideous to us to conceive of as possible, as to him page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282 E VERY DAY. of old who said, "Is thy servant a dog to do this thing?" "' Every day " has told an imperfect story of two young lives for a period in time; what story shall every day tell for us all in the ' eternal years of God"? THE END.