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A TALE FOR THE YOUNG. 



I ask thee for a thoughtful love, 

Through constant watching wi.se. 
To meet the glad with joyful smiles, 

And to wipe the Aveeping eyes ; 
And a heart at leisure from itself. 

To soothe and sympathize. 

* * * * 

Wherever in the world I am, 

. In whatsoe'er estate, 

I have a fellowship with hearts 

To keep and cultivate ; 
And a work of lowly love to do 

For the Lord on whom I Avait. 

A. L. WARISO. 



FBOM THE EELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, LONDON. 



PUBLISHED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU-STEEET, NEW YORK. 



33r>'3'^^^ 



GRACE'S VISIT 



CHAPTER I 



*«So dotli many a sin-stained creature 
Catch a glory from Christ's face ; 
And a light is on his feature 

That our eyes should love to trace." 

It was an August evening, calm and 
mild. The sun ^Yas gently sinking to his 
rest, and over the cloudless skies a holy 
peace was spreading, which, in the ful- 
ness of its repose, seemed to give an 
earnest of better things. Stillness had 
settled upon the village ; the heat of the 
day was passed ; the children had finish- 
ed their lessons and their play, and had 
gone home to bed ; the reapers t^^o had 



4: GRACE'S VISIT. 

left the fields, and were resting after their 
labors ; and the women, having prepared 
their husbands' suppers, were now en- 
joying a short respite from household 
cares. 

A carriage was slowly ascending the 
steep village hill, and as the roll of the 
wheels was heard, many curious faces 
peered forth from diamond-paned win- 
dows, to watch the vehicle as it passed 
on its way. "The general's carriage," 
passed from mouth to mouth ; and with 
this explanation curiosity ceased, for 
"the general," otherwise General Cour- 
tenay, was v/ell known in Aberford. He 
was indeed the owner of great part of 
the village, and inhabited its principal 
mansion, generally called by the jDOorer 
people, "The House." 

The carriage passed out of sight of the 
cottages, and then entered a spacious 
park, where it soon disappeared among 



GRACE'S VISIT. 5 

the oaks and elms wliicli studded tlic 
grassy slopes. 

Meanwhile Julia Courtenay, the gen- 
eral's young granddaughter, was leaning 
from an open window in the school-room, 
and eagerly looking out. 

"Do you think they will soon be here, 
Miss Loveitt ?'' she asked. 

Miss Loveitt, her governess, a some- 
what staid-looking middle-aged person, 
did not raise her eyes from her work. 

"I cannot tell, my dear,'' she replied ; 
''but I think you are sadly wasting your 
time in looking out of the window so con- 
tinually ; and all the looking in the world 
would not bring them any the sooner, 
you know." 

"Of course I know that," said Julia 
rather pertly; "but if I choose to look 
out, I suppose I may ;" and she contin- 
ued to stand by the window. 

Julia was a remarkably pretty girl of 



G GRACE'S VISIT. 

about fourteen years of age. Her coun- 
tenance was, however, somewhat marred 
by a look of self- consciousness which 
betokened that self was seldom absent 
from her thoughts. But Julia had been 
spoiled and flattered from her infancy, 
and her nature was not one which could 
thrive under such dealing as this. 

Besides Julia and Miss Loveitt, there 
was another person in the room — a little 
delicate -looking girl, who lay upon a 
sofa, propped up by pillows, with a pair 
of crutches at her side. Eose Courtenay 
was only a year her sister's junior, but 
her form was bent and wasted by dis- 
ease. About a year and a half before 
the time when our story commences, she 
had been seized with a species of hip 
complaint, which had grown gradually 
worse and worse, until at length she had 
become almost entirely confined to the 
sofa. The best medical advice had been 



GllACE'S VISIT. 7 

procured, but all was of uo avail. The 
doctors shook their heads as they noticed 
her little face and hands grow paler and 
thinner, and her breath more feeble, 
each successive month. It was as if she 
were gradually wasting away, and no 
remedies seemed to have any power to 
arrest the premature decline. 

The mother of Eose and Julia was 
dead ; their father had the command of a 
regiment in India, and his children had 
for many years lived entirely with their 
grandpa. The greater number of these 
years had been spent on the Continent, 
for the eldest girl was very delicate, and 
a genial climate was necessary to her 
health. But at the early age of nineteen 
she had died, and General Courtenay 
had brought her home to be buried in 
the family vault at Aberford. His other 
grandchildren had accompanied him, and 
from this time they had remained in 



8 GEACE'S VISIT. 

England. A month only had elapsed 
since their return, when Hose had fallen 
ill. 

Poor little Rose, there was an almost 
painful look of thought upon her brow, 
as though in her lonel}^ hours of sickness 
she had reflected more than she ought 
upon subjects too deep for her, at an 
age when most children meditate upon 
nothing more profound than their easy 
lessons and play. From such children 
Rose was very diiferent; she looked as 
if she were far away from joys like theirs, 
far away from the sunshine, the birds, 
the flowers, and from all such cheerful 
things as these. She looked very weary, 
and seemed longing for quiet repose. 

"Miss Loveitt," said Julia again, 
"don't you think it is very strange that, 
altHough Grace is our only cousin, we 
should none of us have seen her?'' 

"Not strange, my dear, considering 



GKACE'S VISIT. 9 

the circumstances. You know you have 
been abroad so many years, and since 
your return home very much has hap- 
pened to postpone her coming here : 
what with Rose's delicacy, and one thing 
or another, I don't see how she could 
have come before." 

"No, we have been always waiting 
for Rose to get better, but she never 
.does ; why do n't you, Rose?" said Julia, 
turning for an instant towards the sofa, 
and then running on thoughtlessly to re- 
mark, "It was just the same with poor 
Louisa. "We were always expecting Iter 
to get better ; and then she often did 
seem as if she were really recovering ; 
"but Rose^ — Oh, Miss Loveitt, the car- 
riage, the carriage!" Julia started up 
as the sound of wheels became audible, 
and rushed out of the room ; while Miss 
Loveitt rose more slowly, and putting 
by her work, asked Rose if she were 



10 GRACE'S VISIT. 

comfortable, or would like to go to bed. 
She then followed her pupil, closing the 
door behind her. 

No one had observed the sick child 
turn her face from the light when Julia 
so flippantly mentioned their lost sister ; 
but as, on Miss Loveitt's leaving the 
room, she now looked round again, her 
large deep eyes were filled with tears, 
and her lip was quivering. She had been 
Louisa's especial pet, and had loved her 
better than any of the rest ; her wound- 
ed heart was not yet healed, and could 
ill bear a careless touch. 

The sunset rays streamed in at the 
school-room windows, and there was a 
soothing kind of loveliness in the even- 
ing sky. Eose's yearning gaze found in 
it something like repose. 

"It looks very peaceful out there,'' 
'she said to herself; "but then it is not 
real. It appears to me that no peace is 



GRACE'S VISIT. 11 

real, for no peace ever lasts. Louisa 
seemed to be getting better, as Julia said 
just now ; and when we thought she was 
nearly well, and that we should all be 
so happy together, she again grew worse, 
and then she died. Every thing dies. 
Every thing that is good and pretty and 
happy dies ; and I must die, I know, and 
perhaps very soon ; I shall never, never 
be w^ell again. Oh, why must every 
thing die ?" 

"Why must every thing die?" It is 
an old, old question ; one that has puz- 
zled many a head wiser than that of 
Eose ; one that has been asked by many 
a desolate sufferer, looking up to heaven 
with streaming eyes and a dreary ach- 
ing heart ; one that has tried the faith of 
many a trembling soul since first the fiat 
was fulfilled, and Abel lay cold and still 
in the eastern field. 

But a time is coming — is close at hand. 



12 GKACE'S VISIT. 

v/lieii that question shall be asked no 
more. Never, in the heavenly country, 
shall the voice of wailing call after those 
who can neither hear nor answer ; never 
shall disease or pain invade the new spir- 
itual body ; for, blessed be God, he hath 
abolished death, and hath brought life 
and immortality to light. 

Julia had left the school-room for about 
a quarter of an hour, when her step and 
voice were once more heard outside the 
door, and with them was another step 
with which Eose was not familiar. 

"She spends most of her time on the 
sofa now," Julia was saying, and Rose 
was perfectly aware that the words re- 
ferred to herself. The next moment the 
door opened, and Julia entered, accom- 
panied by a young girl. 

''Here is Grace," said Julia, "cojie 
at last. Are you not glad to see her?" 

"Yes," replied Rose, though rather 



GRACE'S VISIT. 13 

doubtfully, and looking earnestly up as 
she spoke into the new cousin's face. 
Grace bent down gently, and kissed the 
pale thin cheek, saying, as she did so, 
"I am sure I am very glad to see you 
too, and I hope we shall be very happy 
together." 

"Of course we shall," exclaimed Ju- 
lia, ''we have been looking forward so 
long to your coming ; and I am so glad 
it is the summer time ; we can go out to- 
gether, and boat and ride. But are you 
not tired now? You had better come 
and take off your things ; tea is waiting 
for you down stairs." 

"Has not your mamma come with 
you ?" kindly asked Eose of Grace. Ju- 
lia answered for her. 

"No; is it not unfortunate? Just 
when aunt Mary was on the point of 
starting for Aberford this morning, she 
received a letter to summon her to Paris. 



14 GKACE'S VISIT. 

She has a sister there, who has been 
taken ill, so she was obliged to go there 
at once, and to send Grace here with the 
old coachman as an escort." 

"Yon mnst be sorry/' said Eose to 
her consin ; and as she spoke she noticed 
in the twilight that Grace's eyes were 
bright with tears. "I am sorry," she 
replied in a rather unsteady voice ; and 
then no more was said upon the subject. 
Julia hurried her cousin away, only 
allowing her time to bid good-night to 
Eose, and the child was left alone again 
in the now fast- darkening room. 

But Eose did not notice the darkness, 
for a ray of sunshine had gleamed forth 
upon her heart. Her new cousin's sweet 
smile, her gentle tone and kiss appeared 
still present to her mind. 

Grace's age and height were almost 
the same as those of her cousin Julia. 
She was a slidit and rather delicate- 



GKACE'S VISIT. 15 

looking girl, and with well-formed fea- 
tures. She, like Julia, had been from 
infancy accustomed to hear herself ad- 
mired ; but unlike Julia, she was humble 
in spirit, and knew the danger of flattery. 
She had been taught the true value of 
beauty by her mother, who, left a widow 
at an early age, had brought up this her 
only child with the utmost tenderness 
and care, praying earnestly that the 
Lord would teach her how best to lead 
her infant mind to him. And so Grrace 
was not vain, but knew of what little 
importance beauty in itself is ; how soon 
it passes never to return, and how slight 
a thing may mar it. The beauty that 
Grace desired to attain was the hidden 
beauty of the heart — the beauty we find 
in Him who is ''altogether lovely," and 
''fairer than the children of men." 

Something of this hidden and spiritual 
beauty shone out in Grace's face ; and it 



IC GKAOE'S VISIT. 

was this expression, far more than reg- 
ularity of feature, ^yhieh rendered lier 
countenance attractive. It was this ex- 
pression, beaming love and truth, which 
so struck little Rose, which cheered hei 
tender heart, and soothed her into a 
gentle sleep. 

We sometimes meet faces which, as is 
commonly said, "it does one good to look 
at."' Such faces are rare, but they might 
be less so if w^e could but live nearer to 
Christ, and realize more of the blessed 
Spirit's influence. Thus the heart would 
be filled with love, and ofttimes touched 
with tender feelings for the inlirmities ol 
others. 




GRACE'S VISIT. 17 



CHArTP]R II. 

"Thou cam'st not to thy place by accident ; 
It is the very place God meant for thee." 

TRENCH. 

"Oft doth the Christian's heart inquire, 
'What doth my God of me desire? 
What service, holy, pure, and high, 
Can he receive from such as I ?' 
Like Chi'ist, in all things we must prove, 
His life our model, and his love 
The onlj'- pure unfailing spring 
Of holiness in every thing. 
The only law by which we e'er 
Can do our Father's business here." 



Grace was not long in divesting her- 
self of her travelling dress, and this done, 
she descended with Julia to the drawing- 
room. The candles were lighted, and 
the curtains drawn, and Miss Loveitt was 
making tea at the small table upon which 
the urn was placed. General Courtenaj, 
an elderly white-haired gentleman, was 
reclining in an arm-chair, and two bovs 



18 GRACE'S VISIT. 

who had not been present when Grace 
first arrived, rose as she entered, to 
greet her. 

Julia, who was alwa3^s ready to take 
the principal part, stepped forward, and 
introduced her brothers. 

''This is Hector," she said, directing 
her attention to a tall boy of about sgy- 
enteen years of age; "and this," point- 
ing to a merry-faced lad two years 
younger, "is Alfred: I dare say you 
have heard of them before." 

"Come here, and sit by me, my dear," 
said Grcneral Courtenay; "I want to 
look at you." And as Grace seated her- 
self upon a low chair beside him, he add- 
ed, with a deep-drawn sigh: "Ah, you 
are very like, very like." 

She knew he alluded to the strong re- 
semblance which, as she had always 
heard, she bore to her father. 

The general relapsed into a reverie, 



GRACE'S VISIT. 19 

recalling days long gone by, which the 
sight of her, the orphan daughter of his 
son, had recalled vividly to his recollec- 
tion. Grace sat quietly in the corner 
near him, observing all that was passing 
in the room. 

Alfred was lying full-length on a sofa, 
laughing and joking for the amusement 
of his sister and Miss Loveitt, and every 
now and then casting a sly look at Hec- 
tor, who was evidently buried in a book. 
After a while, in obedience to a sign 
from Julia, he rose from his lounging 
position, stole up behind Hector, and, 
watching his opportunity, suddenly 
snatched the book out of his hand. 

Hector started up in a violent passion. 
' ' ISTow, Alfred, w^hat are you about ? Give 
that to me directly." 

''Ah, I dare say,'^ cried Alfred pro- 
vokingly, dancing up and down in front 



20 GRACE'S VISIT. 

of his brother, and keeping the book be- 
hind him. 

"You wont? You shall though, or — '^ 
Hector made a dart at the cul- 
prit, vainly endeavoring to secure the 
book. 

Julia cried out, half in earnest, half 
in jest, "Oh, grandpapa, do speak to 
Hector ; he 's going to hurt Alfred." 

The general opened his eyes, looked 
up, and his face was instantly clouded. 

"I will have no more of this, sir," he 
said in a stern voice, to Hector ; "if you 
cannot behave like a gentleman, you had 
better leave the room. I wonder you 
are not ashamed to exhibit your temper 
in this way, and in your cousin's pres- 
ence too." 

"But, grandfather—" 
"Be silent, sir, and sit down." 
Hector scowled, and moved towards 
the door. 



GllACE'S VISIT. '21 

"Where are you going?" asked the 
general. 

''You said I had better leave the 
room." 

• ' That 's temper again. I said you had 
better leave it, if you could not behave 
like a gentleman. Sit down now as I told 
you." 

Hector obeyed, but his brow looked 
very dark. Alfred returned him the 
book, which he opened, and commenced 
to read again, leaning his head upon his 
hand ; but his mind seemed otherwise 
occupied. Grace felt very sorry for him. 
She saw that his temper was very hot, 
and easily provoked; and she saw also 
that he was not much of a favorite with 
either his brother or sister. When Miss 
Loveitt announced that tea was ready, he 
declined to have any, and was again 
chafed by Julia in an undertone, on ac- 
count of his ' ' sulkiness." He bit his lip, 



22 GEACE'S VISIT. 

but made no reply, and Grace longed to 
say something soothing. 

For this, however, she had no oppor- 
tunity, as Miss Loveitt, shortly after tea, 
desired Julia to go to bed ; and General 
Courtenay, remarking that Grace looked 
very tired, advised her to retire also, 
which she accordingly did. 

The two girls were to share the same 
sleeping apartment, and a pretty little 
dressing-room adjoining it was allotted 
to Grace's special use. Julia seemed to 
ignore any idea of her cousin's fatigue, 
and accordingly kept her from sleep by 
an incessant chatter. 

"Is not Hector a disagreeable boy?'^ 
she said. "He is so passionate and sul- 
ky, that neither Alfred nor I like to be 
v/ith him. I really am quite sorry that 
he is leaving school. I shall never be 
free from him now, until he goes to col- 
lege, which he will not do for a whole 



GRACE'S VISIT. 23 

year. In the meantime lie is to read witli 
the clergyman of the village." 

"I wish I had a brother," said Grace. 
"You are very fortunate, Julia, to have 
two, and a sister besides." 

"I am sure you would not envy me, if 
3^ou had a brother like Hector : he is so 
bad-tempered." 

" I suppose gentleness is the only way 
to draw his love then," said Grace, in 
as sympathizing a tone as she could. 

''I never thought about drawing his 
love," replied Julia rather pettishly ; "1 
only know he is very disagreeable. How 
do you like Miss Loveitt?" 

" I have seen too little of her to be able 
to say as yet," answered Grace. "Do 
you work very hard with her?" 

"Yes, very; but she is going away 
next week. She has been a governess 
a long time, and now she means to leave 
off teachino^, and live at home with her 



24 GKACE'S VISIT. 

mother. My summer liolidays this year 
are postponed until she goes; then I 
shall have six weeks. Grandpapa has 
not heard of another governess yet." 

"You must be sorry to lose Miss Love- 
itt/' said Grace. 

"Rather; but I like a change. We 
have had her so long. Alfred returns 
to school next week too, so you will see 
very little of him." 

"I am ready to say my prayers now," 
Grace remarked, "so perhaps we had 
better talk no more to-night." 

Julia seemed little inclined to agree to 
this proposal ; but just at that moment 
there came a knock at the door, and Miss 
Loveitt's voice was heard. 

" Julia, you must stop talking at once. 
I am sure your cousin is very tired, and 
you must let her go to sleep. In the 
morning, I shall ask whether you have 
obeyed me." 



• GRACE'S VISIT. 25 

Grace thought that Miss Loveitt spoke 
in a somewhat peremptory manner. She 
did not know how difficult it was to in- 
duce Julia to obey. 

The candle was extinguished, and the 
room was still. The brain of each young 
girl was busy with its own peculiar 
thoughts. Had those of Julia framed 
themselves into words, they would have 
run much as follows : 

''I did not know that Grace w^as so 
pretty. I wonder whether she surpass- 
es me ? I must ask Totty Barnes ; she 
is a good judge. I hope not; it is so 
pleasant to be admired, and I do n't like 
any one to be admired before me. I 
wonder if Grace noticed the difference 
between me and Rose. Totty Barnes 
says that when I am beside her, no one 
would look at her for a moment, even if 
she were well. I wish the dressmaker 
had finished my new frock. I should 



26 GRACE'S VISIT. 

have liked to put it on to-morrow, for 
Grace to see. I v/ill ask lier to show me 
her dresses; the one she wore to-night 
was not near so pretty as mine. 

' ' I am very glad Grace has come ; it 
will be so nice to have her for a com- 
panion, and when Miss Loveitt has gone, 
we can have plenty of fun together. I 
will take her to see Totty Barnes. Only 
five more days, and then the holidays. 
I hope grandpapa will not hear of an- 
other governess just yet. How glad I 
shall be when my lesson days are all 
over, and I can do as I like. I wonder 
if Grace has been to many parties. I 
should like to see how she dances. Per- 
haps we may go to a party while she is 
here. I hope so." 

And then Julia fell asleep, to dream 
of finery, balls, and gayeties. 

Grace's thoughts, meanwhile, were 
flowing in a somewhat different channel. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 27 

''How strange it seems,'' slie said to 
herself, "to lie clown without wishing 
mamma good-night. I can almost fancy 
that I am in my own little bed, and that 
the door is open, as usual, between my 
room and hers. It is hard, very hard, 
to part from her ; but I know it is the 
Lord's will, and I must try and submit 
quite patiently, and bend my will to his. 
He is near me still ; Oh yes, I feel that 
he is near. He is near my bed to-night, 
and I am beneath the shadow of his wing. 
And so too is dear mamma. What com- 
fort in that thought. 

"Well, now I must consider it is he 
who sends me here, and so he must have 
some work for me to do in this place. I 
will pray to him to teach me what it is, 
and how best to fulfil it. Perhaps I may 
be able to help Julia a little ; to help her 
to look up to Jesus, and to feel that she 
has 'a charge to keep' for him. And 



28 GKACE'S VISIT. 

then I wish I could do something for 
Hector; he looks unhappy, and the 
others do not seem to love him. Is 
there nothing in which I can help him, I 
wonder? Alfred is going away, and so 
is Miss Loveitt ; but Oh, how pleasant it 
would be to try and comfort Rose. I 
long most of all to be a blessing to her ; 
there is something about her so engag- 
ing, and she is so ill, and looks so wear}^, 
as if she were worn out too early. I al- 
most love her already ; and how sorry I 
am for her, lying all alone on that sofa. 
Oh, there is plenty for me to do, if I can 
but have grace to do it; only I am so 
very weak, and so far from v/hat I ouglit 
to be. Am I fit to take it upon me to 
help others? But I am forgetting Jesus. 
After all, I am merely his instrument, as 
dear mamma has told me so often. He 
vvill give me grace, and all I want, if I 
can only look up to him. I must pray 



GEACE'S VISIT. 



29 



always to remember those two precious 
lines : 

" 'I am a poor sinner, and nothing at all, 
But Jesus Christ is my All in all.'" 

Musing thus, Grace soon fell quietly 
asleep. 




30 GRACE'S VISIT. 



CHAPTER III. 

"Oil, where shall rest be found, 
Eest for the weary soul ? 
'T were vain the ocean's depths to sound, 
Or pierce to either pole : 

' ' Lord God of truth and grace, 
Alone are found in thee 
The light of perfect love — the rest 
Of immortalit}'. " 

MONTGOMEHT. 

As the few days wliicli remained of 
Miss Loveitt's stay were merely devoted 
by lier to an examination of all that Julia 
had learned during the preceding year, 
it was not thought necessary for Grace 
to join her cousin in the school-room at 
present. She was therefore free to em- 
ploy her time as she pleased ; and when, 
on the morning after her arrival, Julia 
was summoned to Miss Loveitt, the latter 
advised her to take her books or work 



GEACE'S VISIT. 31 

into the garden, and sit under the shade 
of the trees. 

Grace acquiesced, and Alfred volun- 
teered to conduct her to a pleasant spot, 
where a little rustic seat was placed be- 
neath a spreading elm ; and here she set- 
tled herself much to her own satisfac- 
tion, amid the fragrance of the flowers 
and the joyous songs of the birds. 

For some time Alfred remained with 
her, doing the honors, as he considered 
it, and entertaining her with marvellous 
stories of school prowess ; but presently 
he was called away, and Grace was then 
left alone. 

Her thouoihts soon wandered across 
the English channel to her mother, and 
she was lost in reverie, when the sound 
of voices suddenly recalled her to herself. 
Looking in the direction from whence the 
sound came, she saw Hector wheeling 
Rose along in a little carriage, which was 



32 GRACE'S VISIT. 

SO constructed as to enable lier to recline 
almost at full length. Grace observed 
them some time before they perceived 
her, for she was so surrounded by bushes 
that she was almost hidden from the 
sight of any one in the path. But they 
seemed to be approaching the spot where 
she sat, and she could distinctly hear all 
they said. 

*'I am sorry to leave you all alone, 
darling,'' observed Hector, "but I must 
go; I have a long morning's work be- 
fore me. However, it is very pleasant 
here, and perhaps Julia or Alfred will 
come out to you by and by." 

Grace felt quite surprised when she 
noticed the change in Hector's face. The 
cloud which had darkened it on the pre- 
ceding night had entirely passed away, 
and as he looked atEose his eyes seemed 
filled with a deep tenderness of expres- 
sion, which considerably softened the 



GllACE'fc; VISIT. 33 

soiiicwluit stem lines of liis leaturcs. 
Rose gazed up at him with a loving, con- 
fiding smile, very different from the list- 
less glance which Grace had remarked 
when first she saAV her. 

"Hector," she said now in a tone 
slightly lowered, while a most nnwonted 
glow enlightened her wasted cheek — 
"Hector, I see some one sitting under 
the elm. I think it must be cousin 
Grace." 

"So it is," cried Hector ; " how fortu- 
nate. Now you and she can bear each 
other company. Grace," he continued, 
as she came forward to meet them, "you 
wont mind having Rosy with you, Avill 
you ? She is ordered to be out of doors 
as much as possible in these fine days." 

"I am so glad. We can be together 
then," said Grace; "it is beautifully 
cool and shady here." 

" Yery well ; I '11 wheel her near your 



o4. GllACE'S VISIT. 

seat. She is n't mucli of a chatterbox ; 
she wont disturb you if you want to 
read," replied Hector, glancing at 
G-race's book ; and soon the little car- 
riage was comfortably placed beneath a 
leafy canopy, which through the inter- 
lacing of its boughs revealed glimpses of 
the blue sky. Hector bent down over 
Eose, and whispered a few words in her 
ear. He hardly seemed like the same 
person who had flown at Alfred so 
fiercely. 

" Good-by, darling. Drink in as much 
air as you can, my little white rose." 

"Yes, Hector, I will," said the child 
smiling; "it is so pleasant here, and I 
like to be with Grace. Good-by." 

He went away across the lawn, not 
leaping and whistling as Alfred vfould 
have done, but striding with rapid steps, 
his eyes turned towards the ground. 
Hector had always been a thoughtful, 



GRACE'S VISIT. 35 

earnest boy, and liis disposition was 
silent and reserved. His temper was 
very passionate, and somehow lie had 
always in his childhood been considered 
"the black sheep" of the nursery. He 
had lacked the playful, winning ways of 
his brother and sisters, and in conse- 
quence had never been so general a 
favorite as they. He had been accus- 
tomed to hear that he was "sulky" and 
"wicked," "the worst-tempered boy 
that ever was," until by degrees he had 
almost grown to believe himself so ; and 
conscious that no one understood or 
sought to discover his deeper, gentler 
feelings, he shut himself up within him- 
self, and proudly seemed to resolve that 
he would do without love. 

His grandfather, who had been early 
prejudiced against him, saw in him only 
a disposition naturally violent and sul- 
len. Alfred was frank, warm-hearted, 



36 GRACE'S VISIT. 

and affectionate ; Julia was pretty, bright 
and generally attractive ; but Hector — 
General Courtenay shook his head when 
he thought of him. 

Only little Eose had as yet penetrated 
into the recesses of that really true and 
tender heart. Perhaps it was her weak- 
ness which won hira ; perhaps it was her 
drooping frailness which excited his pity; 
or perhaps it was the silent conscious- 
ness that she also knew something of 
what it was to have feelings hidden far 
out of sight,^and not to be able to speak 
them out, or to share them with any hu- 
man being. 

Any way. Hector almost idolized 
Rose, and Eose fully returned his love. 
He cherished her, he longed to shield 
her from evil, and to protect her under 
the cover of his love ; and while she 
clung to him and nestled in his heart, 
she thought that she had never yet seen 



GRACE'S VISIT. 37 

or known any one so noble, or so wor- 
thy of admiration. It grieved her sorely 
to hear him reproved, to note the scoff- 
ing way in which Julia spoke of him. 
She longed to help him, and show the 
others how they misjudged him ; but still 
she feared that no words of hers would 
ever persuade them to regard him differ- 
ently. And now she knew that the time 
was drawino- near when she must leave 
him. Ah, that was the most bitter of all 
the thoughts which caused her to cry so 
plaintively, ' ' Why must every thing die ?" 

But now, lying in the pleasant shade, 
death seemed far away from her. All 
around her was so bright and sunny, and 
the sight of Grace's face, calm and quiet, 
as she now plied her fingers at some light 
work, gave her a feeling of repose. 

"What are you making?" Rose asked 
at length, when for some time she had 
lain silentlv watehino: her cousin. 



38 GRACE'S VISIT. 

''I am making a little mat for a flower- 
glass belonging to mamma," replied 
Grace; ''it is a very favorite glass of 
hers, and always stands upon her dress- 
ing-table, and I fill it with fresh flowers 
every morning." 

''Did she ask you to make the mat?" 
asked Rose. 

"Xo ; but I noticed, before I left home, 
that the old one looked very shabby, so 
I thought I would make another, for 
mamma is very particular about that 
flower-glass; it is one that dear papa 
gave her long ago, before I was born." 

"Did you ever know your papa?" 
asked Rose. 

"No; he died when I was a little 
baby; I cannot remember him at all; 
but mamma has often told me of him, 
and I feel almost as if I knew him." 

" How nice it must be for you to have 
such a kind mamma," said Rose. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 39 

"Oil yes; I can never be thankful 
enough for her. It seems so strange to 
be aAvay from her now, but I knoAV that 
she will write to me very often, and each 
letter I get will seem like one of our 
talks. Only I hope that she is not very 
anxious about poor aunt Alice." 

"Do you knoAV your aunt Alice?'' 
asked Eose. 

' ' No ; she is mamma's only sister, but 
I have never seen her ; she married a 
French gentleman, and always lives at 
Paris." 

Eose made no reply, and a silence of 
some minutes followed. A look of pain 
passed over her countenance ; G-race saw 
it, and asked, "Do you feel worse?" 

"No, thank you; it was only for a 
moment. I often feel a sudden shooting 
pang, which comes and goes like that." 

"You must be very tired of lying 
here so long," observed Grace gently. 



40 GRACE'S VISIT. 

Something in the tone seemed to thaw 
Eose's reserve. "Oh, so tired," she 
said; "I cannot tell you how tired. I 
do try to be patient, but sometimes I 
wish that I could fly quite away, like a 
bird.'^ 

"That reminds me — '^ began Grace, 
but suddenly stopped and colored ; at so 
short an acquaintance, she scarcely liked 
to introduce the subject of which she was 
thinking. 

But Eose pressed her. "Of what?" 
she asked ; "do tell me." 

"I was going to say that your wish 
just then brought that text into my 
mind — I dare say you know it," said 
G-race, pausing ; but finding that Eose 
waited for her to continue, she repeated, 
" ' Oh that I had wings like a dove ! for 
then would I flee away, and be at 
rest.'" 

"Is that a text in the Bible?" said 



GllACE'S VISIT. 41 

Rose. "I don't rememlbcr it, but it 
seems to put uiy thoughts into words. 
Who said it?'' 

"David, in the Psalms. I was read- 
ing it only the other day, and I like to 
think that he is at rest now." 

''At rest? He is dead," cried Eose. 

Grace looked slightly surprised. ' ' He 
is at rest in heaven," she said. 

'' Oh, in heaven, of course. I did not 
know you meant that." 

Rose said no more, but she lay silent 
for a time. Rest, the rest for which she 
longed ! It gave her a somewhat new 
idea of heaven. 

Grace meanwhile looked pityingly at 
her. She thought now that she had dis- 
covered the secret of that weary look 
upon the brow. The sick little heai't 
had made no response as yet to that 
Voice which ever cries to the weary and 
sad, ''Come unto me, and I will give 
6 



42 GEACE'S VISIT. 

you rest;" and Grace prayed that she 
might henceforth be a messenger to Eose 
of that rest. 

"Grace," said the little girl by and 
by, " I want to ask yon something." 

"Well, dear, what is it?" inquired 
Grace. 

' ' I want to ask you not to think badly 
of Hector if you sometimes see him in a 
passion. He has so much to provoke 
him; and indeed he is not really bad. 
You do n't know how very loving and 
gentle he has always been with me." 

" I noticed how fond he seemed of you 
when I saw him with you just now," re- 
plied Grace. 

"I am glad of that; and you wont 
think hardly of him? You wont con- 
demn him too soon ? I can't bear to see 
him disliked." 

"Don't be afraid, Rose, I shall not 
dislike him. Indeed I begin to like him 



GEACE'S VISIT. 43 

already ; I cannot help it, when I sec 
how kind he is to you." 

"I was not always so fond of him," 
said Rose; ''but I think, since poor 
Louisa died, he has tried to make up to 
me for her loss. I loved her so very, 
very much, and she used to call me her 
child." 

"Ah, it must have been hard to part 
with her." 

The tears tilled Eose's eyes. 

" I can't talk about it now," she said ; 
"perhaps some time, when I know you 
better, I may be able to tell you more. 
I think I shall be able to tell you a great 
many things. I think I shall love you 
very much." 

"And I you," said Grace ; and bend- 
ing down she kissed the child's white 
forehead. " But now you look so tired. 
You have talked enough, I am sure. 
Would vou like me to read to vou ?" 



44 GKACE'S VISIT. 

'' Oh yes, so miicli, if you would like 
it too." 

''I am very fond of reading aloud/^ 
replied Grace ; "I often read to mam- 
ma. I have a book which I know you 
like ; I will fetch it." 

She snatched up her hat, which had 
fallen off, and ran to the house. Eose 
lay still the while, thinking how pleas- 
ant it was to be kissed and waited on by 
Grace. She soon returned, bringing with 
her "Ministering Children." 

"I hope you have never read it be- 
fore," said Grace; and receiving a neg- 
ative ansAver, she began the first chap- 
ter. Eose listened with eager interest : 
the sick child, so tired of her weary bed, 
reminded her of herself, and little Euth, 
in her unselfishness and tender care, ap- 
peared to resemble Grace. 

''That child seemed glad to die," she 
thought to herself as her cousin finished 



GRACE'S VISIT. 45 

tlie cliaptcr. "Thank you, Grace," she 
said, " I like that very much. Can you 
sing? I should like you to sing some- 
thing to me, as Euth did to the sick 
child.'- 

" Ycry well, dear. What sliall I sing?" 

"Something about Jesus. I know so 

little about Jesus ; and it was the thought 

of him that seemed to comfort the sick 

child." 

Grace pondered for a moment, and 
then in a low voice she sang, 

"How sweet the name of Jesus sounds 
In a belieyer's ear." 

Eose lay v/ith her eyes closed, and 
before the hymn was finished she had 
fallen asleep ; the sleep of death it might 
almost have been, she was so still and 
pale. As Grace watched her, she re- 
membered a child whom she had often 
visited in a cottage at home. That child 
had looked verv like Eose in the sum- 



46 GEACE'S VISIT. 

mer, and in the winter lie was carried to 
his grave; and Grace felt that before 
many months were over Rose would be 
carried there too. 

Suddenly Julia's voice sounded mer- 
rily upon the lawn, and Rose awoke with 
a start. 

''I have done my lessons, Grace," 
cried Julia; "are you not glad? Now 
we can be together. Come along, and I 
will show you all over the gardens, and 
take you to see my pony. Ferrers is 
coming to fetch Rose into the house." 

Ferrers, an old nurse who had been 
long in the family, and since Rose's ill- 
ness had taken her under her especial 
care, made her appearance at this mo- 
ment, and Rose, though somewhat reluc- 
tant, was wheeled away. 

Grace meanwhile accompanied Julia, 
who led the way through the gardens. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 47 



CHAPTER lY. 

*'Oars alone can ne'er prevail 
To reach the distant coast ; 
A gale from heaven must spread the sail, 
Or all our toil is lost." 

COWPEB. 

Early in the ensuing week, Miss Lovc- 
itt left Aberford. It was with much pain 
that she said good-by to the children 
who had been her charge for so many 
years ; and the tears fell fast as she kiss- 
ed Rose, for she knew that in this world 
she could not hope ever to meet her 
again. 

General Courtenay's farewell was very 
cordial: "There is little that I would 
not give to keep you with us, Miss Love- 
itt; indeed I scarcely know how we 
shall manage without you. I am sure 
Julia and Rose will never forget the care 



48 GRACE'S VISIT. 

and pains you have expended on them, 
and I hope 3'ou will often come and pay 
them a visit. Your old room will al- 
Y/ays be ready for you ; and if you can- 
not leave your mother, you must bring 
lier too." 

Miss Loveitt attempted to utter a few 
words of thanks, but they died upon her 
tongue, and just at that moment Julia 
advanced to bid her adieu. 

'' Good-by, Miss Loveitt ; I am so sor- 
ry you are going, but, as grandpapa 
says, you will come to see us. You must 
be glad to go, and rest at home. I will 
be sure to write, and tell you all that 
happens here." 

And now Alfred, who was that day 
returning to school, and was to travel 
part of the way with Miss Loveitt, called 
to her in merry impatience, beseeching 
her to "make haste." She assented, 
stepped into the carriage, waved her 



GKACE'S VISIT. 49 

hand to the assembled group in the hall, 
and was gone. 

Many sad reflections filled her mind 
and rendered her heart heavy as she 
drove away. The chief subject of these 
reflections was Julia. Miss Loveitt wish- 
ed that she could have left her more 
gentle, more aff'ectionate, more desirous 
to act from high and noble principles. 
She wondered how it was that her con- 
stant labors, her endeavors to impress 
her "charge" with a sense of duty, had 
failed. It was very wearying, very dis- 
piriting, Miss Loveitt thought; and she 
sighed. 

Ah, with all her knowledge, her fond- 
ness for teaching, her cultivation of mind, 
she had forgotten one thing, "the one 
thing needful," without which no earth- 
ly system can be truly blessed. Miss 
Loveitt had imagined that the love of 
Jesus, the importance of prayer, the joys 



50 GRACE'S VISIT. 

of heaven, were subjects which did not 
lie within the province of her instruc- 
tions. It is true that she had daily read 
a chapter in the Bible with her pupils ; 
she had questioned them on Scripture 
history, and had superintended their 
writing the morning's sermon from mem- 
ory on Sunday afternoons. But all these 
things had appeared to Miss Loveitt 
totally distinct from the real business 
of the day. The reading finished, and 
the Bible laid on the shelf, no more was 
said about either until the appointed 
hour came round again. There was no 
application of its blessed precepts, its 
animating promises, to the common du- 
ties of each hour. 

If only the love of Christ had entered 
into that school-room, how much easier 
the lessons would have become, how 
much sweeter all the play. The love of 
Jesus, that was the power which Miss 



GEACE S VISIT. 51 

Loveitt failed to acknowledge. She did 
not lead her pupils to him as to the great 
and good Shepherd. She did not direct 
their hearts to him, reminding them gen- 
tly, from hour to hour, that all their 
study, unblest by him, was vain. She 
did not teach them to take their evil 
tempers, their levity, their carelessness, 
their impatience to him, to be washed 
away in his blood. She did not e^ideav- 
or to make the sweet stories of Bethle- 
hem and Calvary and the mount of Olives 
precious and familiar to them. She did 
not strive to impress his image on their 
afTections, as a tender Friend, a kind, 
compassionate Saviour, ready to help in 
all their little troubles, to sympathize in 
all their little joys. 

Had Miss Loveitt made these things 
her care, had she thus tried to awaken 
in the hearts of her pupils an earnest 
love for. Him Avho died, the Just for the 



52 " GKACE'S VISIT. 

Qnjiist, then she might indeed have hop- 
ed to see them growing up as she wish- 
ed ; for such love would have shown it- 
self in their very life. When the Holy 
Spirit has entered the heart and impart- 
ed a sense of divine forgiveness, to walk 
as Christians becomes the earnest desire 
of every soul. 

It is true that this spiritual life and 
peace is a gift from heaven, and that no 
mere human teaching can instil it. But 
it is also true that God has committed to 
man great power in influencing his broth- 
er man. We can endeavor to lead the 
hearts of those who are dear to us to our 
Saviour ; we can also pray for them our- 
selves, that he may reveal himself to 
them; and he has promised that such 
endeavors, such prayers, shall in no wise 
lose their reward. 

Julia was secretly rejoiced that Miss 
Loveitt had taken her departure. She 



GRACE'S VISIT. 53 

knew that she should now enjoy more 
freedom, and have more time at her own 
disposal; above all, there would be a 
temporary respite from lessons. Her 
delight at escaping from the restraint of 
the school-room overpowered any sliglit 
regret she might feel at parting from her 
governess. 

After luncheon, while with Grace, pre- 
paring to go out, Julia observed, "Oh, 
Grace, I want to take you this afternoon 
to see Totty Barnes." 

'' Yery well ; butwhois Totty Barnes?" 
asked Grace. 

' ' Such a nice girl ; not a lady 
though; but I like talking to her so 
much. She is the daughter of farmer 
Barnes, who is one of grandpapa's ten- 
ants, and lives just the other side of the 
park." 

"I knoAV some girls too at home, of 
whom I am very fond," said Grace, 



54 GllACE'S VISIT. 

"some who have been in my class at tlie 
Sunclay-scliool, and some — ■'' 

"Oh, Totty Barnes is not of that sort 
at all, " interposed Julia hastily. ' ' Why, 
she has been to 'boarding-school,' as she 
calls it; and she can play the piano a 
little. She dresses almost as well as we 
do." 

Grace did not say, what she conld not 
help thinking, that these were no great 
recommendations in Totty's favor; but 
as Julia Avas now ready, the two girls set 
off. 

"Totty Barnes' mother is dead," con- 
tinued Julia as they pursued their way 
across the park; "she has been dead a 
good many years ; and a disagreeable 
old aunt comes every now and then to 
stay with farmer Barnes, to see that all 
is going on right. Totty cannot bear 
her, she is so fussy, and wont let Totty 
have her own way in any thing." 



GRACE'S VISIT. 55 

"How did you become acquainted with 
Totty?" said Grace. 

''Oh, it was in the first holidays after 
we came back to England. Miss Love- 
itt was away, and Eose beginning to be 
ill, and I was a good deal out of doors 
alone. Totty is very fond of leaning over 
the palings of her garden, and looking 
into the park, and I used often to see her 
there, and at last began to talk to her." 

"Is that the house?" inquired Grace, 
after a pause, as they came in sight of a 
small, brown, gable- ended building, the 
back of which faced the park. 

"Yes, that is it, and I believe Totty 
is there, leaning over the palings as 
usual." 

Yes, Totty was there, and as they ap- 
proached her, Grace observed that she 
was a bold-looking girl, tall and dark, in 
a smart though tawdry dress. 

"Well, Miss Julia, so it's you, is it?" 



56 GRACE'S VISIT. 

were her first words, spoken in a loud, 
harsh voice, and a manner unpleasantly 
free: "I'm sure I'm very glad to see 
you ; I thought you were never coming 
again." • 

"But I have come now, you see, Tot- 
ty," returned Julia; "and this is my 
cousin, Miss Grace Courtenay, who is 
paying us a visit." 

"Hope you 're well, miss," said Totty, 
turning a bold stare on G-race, and drop- 
ping a pretence of a courtesy. Grace 
scarcely knew what to make of this new 
acquaintance, and stood silently by, while 
her cousin and Totty entered into con- 
versation. 

"Is any one at home besides your- 
self?" asked Julia. 

"No, not a soul. Father, he's gone 
to market ; and aunt. I 'm happy to say 
she a'n't at Abe r ford at present." 

"What a relief; is it not?" 



GRACE'S VISIT. C7 

**I should just think so. I do hate to 
have a body after me all day, lecturing 
me and folloAving me about. But I lead 
a pretty easy life oi it now she 's away. 
Father, he don't hinder me in noth- 
ing." 

Julia laughed. "You have more of 
your own way than I," she said. 

"Well, for ni}^ part, I think it 's mean 
and low-spirited to let one's self be or- 
dered and put upon in the way some do. 
Why should one or two have all the rule, 
and others none? You've lost Miss 
Loveitt, I suppose?" 

Julia nodded. "She went away this 
morning." 

Totty leaned forward and whispered, 
in a voice too low for Grace to hear, 
something which seemed greatly to amuse 
both herself and Julia. 

"I am not sorry upon the whole that 
she is gone," said Julia aloud, and Grace 



58 GRACE'S VISIT. 

perceived that they had been speaking 
of Miss Loveitt. 

The Uyo girls went on talking ; Totty 
giving forth her views on various sub- 
jects, and Julia agreeing with her in all. 
They ridiculed the dress and appear- 
ance of various persons in Aberford, dis- 
cussed the summer fashions, and recount- 
ed the latest details of village gossip. 

At length Grace suggested to Julia 
that it was time to go home. Julia re- 
luctantly assented, and taking a worn 
and not very clean volume from her 
pocket, she handed it to Totty, saying, 
' ' I liked it very much ; have you anoth- 
er for me?'' 

"Yes, I have one here. I thought 
you might be coming, so brought it out. 
It is a lovely tale." 

Julia received the book uneasily, and 
coloring as she felt Grace's eye upon 
her ; and then, bidding Totty good-by, 



• GllACE S VISIT. 59 

the cousins directed their steps home- 
wards. 

For some time not a word was spoken 
on either side, but when they came with- 
in sight of the house, Julia said, "Grace, 
will you do me a favor? I wish neither 
grandpapa nor Hector to knoAV that I 
have been to see Totty ; so will you 
oblige me by saying nothing about it?" 

"I will say nothing unless I am ask- 
ed,'' said Grace gently ; "but Julia, dear, 
do you think it is right to go to her with- 
out grandpapa's knowledge?" 

"Don't be silly, Grace," cried Julia 
petulantly ; " I see no reason why grand- 
papa should mind my being with Totty ; 
only it is just as well that he should not 
know." 

"I do not think he would like your 
being with her ; she does not seem a very 
nice girl," said Grace. 

"You have such strait-laced notions," 



60 GRACE'S VISIT. . 

exclaimed Julia; "there is no harm in 
her whatever." 

Grace made no reply ; and Julia con- 
tinued : 

"I thought you would be nice, and 
that I should be able to find a companion 
in you ; but now you go against me, and 
want to lecture me." 

''Indeed, Julia, if it were even my 
place to lecture you, I should be very 
sorry to do it," replied G-race ; "only I 
wish so very much that you would give 
up going to Totty Barnes." 

"I tell you," said Julia, "that nothing 
shall induce me to give up going to her. 
I like her very much, and I have great 
fun with her, and, as I said before, I don't 
see any harm in her." 

"Then, Julia, please never ask me to 
go there with you again. I am very 
sorry to vex you, but I cannot help it." 

"Yes, you can help it," exclaimed 



GRACE'S VISIT. Gl 

Julia. "I see you wish to set yourself 
up above me, but I do n't care : and after 
all, I can very easily dispense witli your 
company when I go to see Totty ; only 
I hope you will say nothing to grand- 
papa." 

"I have told you that I shall say noth- 
ing unless I am asked," replied Grace a 
little proudly. She was hurt and vexed 
at Julia's injustice to herself, and both 
surprised and grieved at her conduct 
with regard to Totty. But it was not 
long before her ready disposition to make 
allowances for the faults of others gained 
the ascendency in Grace's breast. She 
reproached herself for having momenta- 
rily suffered a feeling of resentment to 
arise within her, and recalled to mind 
the numerous disadvantages under whicli 
poor Julia had labored. 

Motherless, and to all intents and pur- 
poses, fatherless also, without any one 



62 GRACE'S VISIT. 

who might help her to miclerstaiicl the 
real purpose and end of life, ought not 
one Avho had ever been carefully trained 
and taught, rather to pity than blame 
her? So Grace argued; and throwing 
her arm round Julia's neck, she said, 
''Dear Julia, do not let this prevent our 
being friends. I do very much wish that 
you thought as I do about it; but any 
way, we must not quarrel, must Vfe?" 

Julia looked rather awkward, but she 
returned Grace^s kiss, and for many 
weeks afterwards Totty's name did not 
once pass between the cousins. 

But nevertheless this little dispute 
served to create a slight coolness in 
Julia's feelings towards Grace. She was 
conscious now that Grace's principles 
were far superior to her own ; she was 
conscious that Grace's taste and inclina- 
tions were very different from her own. 
She could not help respecting Grace for 



GEACE'S VISIT. 63 

the moral courage with which she per- 
sisted in what she knew to be right ; but 
at the same time, she did not hesitate in 
ridiculing that courage when she told the 
story to Totty Barnes on their next in- 
terview. 

Julia had more than one reason for 
wishing to continue her intimacy with 
Totty. Their conversations were very 
amusing to her, and especially gratify- 
ing, as Totty seldom lost an opportunity 
of flattering the young lady's vanity. 
Moreover Totty was in the habit of sup- 
plying her with books, generally novels 
of a foolish tendency, if not positively 
evil. These Totty procured from a li- 
brary at the neighboring town, and she 
contrived to make this little negotiation 
tolerably profitable to herself; for where- 
as she paid a penny for the loan of each 
volume, she was accustomed, on the same 
score, to charge Julia twopence. Gen- 



64 GEACE'S VISIT. 

eral Courtenay allowed his grandchil- 
dren an ample supply of pocket-money ; 
and the greater part of Julia's share went 
in the holidays towards the books. Dur- 
ing the half-year however, she could only 
pay stolen visits, few and far between, 
to Totty Barnes ; for Miss Loveitt was 
very vigilant, and would on no account 
have allowed her pupil to hold any in- 
tercourse with the girl. 

This Julia well knew ; and thus it was 
that she suffered herself to fall into a 
regular system of deceit. The pleasure 
which she might not openly enjoy, she 
resolved to enjoy by stealth. The first 
secret visit weighed considerably upon 
her conscience ; but the second found 
that conscience was more easy, and the 
third easier still. By degrees it ceased 
altogether to reproach her, until, at the 
time of Grace's visit, she was scarcely 
aware of the culpability of her conduct. 



GllACE'S VISIT. 65 

So it is ever : ' ' Ce n'est que le premier 
pas qui coilte." The first advance in 
good or in evil is often painful to us • but 
as we persevere, our minds grow gradu- 
ally reconciled to the change. The path 
to heaven becomes more easy, the path 
to hell more delightful, and from that 
time we go swiftly on, until we reach 
our destination : eternal glory on the one 
hand, eternal darkness on the other. 

Let each one who is beginning to strive 
against evil encourage himself; he will 
soon find the struggle less hard. And 
let each who has ceased to strive, who is 
retreating from the battle-field, pause 
and look back, and consider well, before 
he gains the meadows of ease beyond. 



GG GRACE'S VISIT. 



CHAPTER Y. 

*'Not only near the glittering sword 

Doth -war's fierce spirit dwell ; 
The discord of the soul, a word, 

A glance can speak too well. 

* * * * 

But thoughtless words may bear a sting 

Where malice hath no place — 
May wake to pain some secret sting 

Beyond the power to trace : 
When quivering lip and flushing cheek 
The spirit's agony bespeak, 
Then, though thou deem thy brother weak. 

Yet soothe his soul to i^eace. " s. a. stoers. 

It was on a bright Sej^tember morn- 
ing, some five weeks after the events re- 
corded in the last chapter, that Julia, 
wild with joy, burst suddenly into the 
school- room. 

'' Oh, Grace, Grace, something so de- 
lightful. What do you think ? Here is 
an invitation for you and me to a grand 
juvenile party next Friday evening/' 



GRACE'S VISIT. G7 

'' That will be very nice," said Grace. 
'' Whose invitation is it?" 

' ' Mrs. Lyon's. She is a very rich lady, 
who lives about four miles off. I know 
her parties well; they are perfectly 
charming. What shall you wear, Grace ?" 

''I don't know; I suppose my white 
dress. I should think there would be 
plenty of time before Friday to settle 
that." 

''Oh no, there wont. The shape of 
my frock will require altering. Let me 
see. I think I will have it freshly trim- 
med with lace, or perhaps some kind of 
a ruche might look better. I will run 
and ask Mary ;" and so saying, she has- 
tened from the room. 

Grace meanwhile continued the occu- 
pation which Julia's entrance had dis- 
turbed. It was that of reading a letter 
which she had just received from her 
mother. 



68 GKACE'S VISIT. 

"My child, I am sorry to disappoint 
you," it Avas thus that the letter ran, 
' ' but I greatly fear that it may be months 
before I am able to return home. Your 
aunt is better, but she is still so ill that 
her recovery is uncertain. I cannot leave 
her ; and even when she begins to con- 
valesce, she will require much more care 
and nursing than I should feel justified 
in leaving to strangers. It is a great 
comfort to me to feel that my darling 
Grace is well and happy. You know 
how often I think of you, and how I pray 
that our heavenly Father may keep you 
under the shadow of his wings." 

A few tears dropped upon the letter, 
for Grrace earnestly longed to see her 
mother; but she remembered that the 
Lord Jesus was ordering this trial, and 
overruling it for her good, and by de- 
grees a more cheerful expression return- 
ed to her countenance. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 09 

In a short time Julia reappeared. 

"I have chosen my dress," she said, 
"and Mary has thought of some altera- 
tions which will improve it very much. 
But, Grace, I have been considering — • 
would not my hair look much better if I 
could w^ear a few flowers in it ?" 

" I dare say it might," said Grace ab- 
sently, for she was still intent upon her 
letter. 

" Or a single blossom perhaps," contin- 
ued Julia, "just one, such as Laura Mow- 
bray wore the last time that she dined 
here. Her hair is exactly the color ot 
mine, and it looked beautiful, arranged 
in the new fashion, and with no other 
ornament than a simple white camellia. 
But I know we have very few camellias 
now, and perhaps the gardener has not 
got one to spare. How tiresome it is." 

As Grace made no reply, Julia sat 
silent for some minut-es, revolving the 



70 GRACE'S VISIT. 

weighty matter of the camellia in her 
mind. At length she jumped up and 
ran out into the garden, announcing her 
determination to speak to the gardener 
on the subject; but after a time she re- 
turned with a fretful cloud upon her brow, 
and saying that there was not one camel- 
lia which would be sufficiently blown by 
Friday. 

''Never mind," said Grace soothingly, 
"it does not signify. Your hair will 
look quite as nice without a flower as 
with one." 

''No, it wont," returned Julia pet- 
tishly. "Besides, I have set my heart 
upon a camellia. I wanted my hair to 
be like Laura Mowbray's." 

"Well, could you not buy one at the 
Aberford nursery gardens ?" 

"I don't choose to spend my money 
for that," replied Julia as pettishly as 
before; "and I can't ask grandpapa to 



GEACE'S VISIT. 71 

buy one for me, because lie gave me my 
allowance only this morning." 

" If I were you, I would think no more 
about it,'' said Grace. "After all, it is 
only a flower. It would last but a short 
time, and very likely no one would es- 
pecially remark it." 

Julia pouted, but made no answer, and 
Grace beginning to talk of something 
else, the camellia was for the time for- 
gotten. 

The days passed away ; Friday morn- 
ing came. The two girls entering the 
drawing-room soon after breakfast, saw 
Hector busily engaged in the little con- 
servatory adjoining it. 

"Why, Grace," cried Julia, "I do 
believe that he has got a camellia there." 

"Suppose we go and see," said 
Grace, and they passed into the conser- 
vatory. 

Yes, there was a camellia, a beautiful 



72 GRACE'S VISIT. 

snowy one, nearly blown, its queenly 
head clustering among the dark green 
leaves, which served as a foil to its 
whiteness. 

" Oh, Hector, Hector," exclaimed Ju- 
lia, ''where did you get that lovely 
flower ?" 

Hector turned round smiling, the dark 
look with which he generally regarded 
Julia wonderfully relaxed. 

''Is it not a beauty?" he said. "I 
have been nursing it a long time; it 
was very sickly at first, but I have got 
it all right now. I want to give it to 
Rose." 

"Where did you get it?" repeated 
Julia. 

"I begged it of the gardener. He 
thought badly of it when he handed it 
over to me, but it has been well doc- 
tored since then. You see Eose is so 
fond of flowers," added Hector, turning 



GKACE'S VISIT. 73 

to Grace. "A camellia lives a long time, 
and it is one of licr favorites." 

Hector did not say, what lie neverthe- 
less well knew, that the chief charm in 
the flower to Eosc would be the care 
and nursing he had expended on it ; but 
perhaps he saw in Grace's look that she 
understood it all, for as he caught her 
eye his smile deepened. 

"I don't see any use in giving it to 
Rose," cried Julia. ''She would be 
equally pleased with any other flower. 
I wish you would give that to me." 

" To you ; why?" said Hector. 

"Because I am going to a party to- 
night, and I want a camellia to wear. 
The gardener has not got another white 
one." 

''Well, Julia, I really can't give you 

this," replied Hector. "I have reared 

it on purpose for Rose, and I mean to 

take it to her this very afternoon." 
10 



74 GRACE'S VISIT. 

"That is very unkind. You know 
how I want it, and it would look so nice 
in my hair," cried Julia. 

"I am very sorry, but it can't be 
helped," said Hector dryly. "I don't 
quite consider that your hair is more 
worthy of attention than Eose." 

"You always pet up Eose," exclaim- 
ed Julia, now very angry; "but the 
camellia is not yours to give. It belongs 
to grandpapa, and I will ask him if I may 
not have it." 

"Ask him, if you like to be so disa- 
greeable," said Hector. 

" I do n't think it at all disagreeable,'^ 
replied Julia, "and I certainly shall ask 
him. I '11 go now." 

"Stay a minute," said Hector, step- 
ping forward and holding her wrist as 
she was about to run off — "stay a min- 
ute, and I will just take the liberty of 
telling you my opinion on the subject. I 



GBACE S VISIT. 75 

have no doubt that my grandfather will 
instantly give you permission to have the 
flower, as his partiality for you somewhat 
exceeds his sense of justice. But I hope 
that, Avhen you place it in your hair, 
your conscience will not be backward in 
reminding you of the vanity, the selfish- 
ness, the ill-nature, the meanness which 
form the price you have paid for it." 

Hector's flice was flushed, and his eyes 
gioAved like Are. Julia cowered beneath 
his glance, but he released her wrist, 
saying, ''Now go," and she quickly dis- 
appeared. 

Grace, who was left behind, felt very 
uncomfortable ; she did not know what 
to say or do, and therefore remained 
standing silently wdiere she was. Hec- 
tor took no notice of her, but continued 
bending over his plant. A few minutes 
elapsed, when General Courtenay's step 
was heard comino- alono; the hall. Grace 



76 GRACE'S VISIT. 

felt rather alarmed, but Hector's counte- 
nance did not change as his grandfather 
entered. The general was evidently 
much displeased, and his voice sounded 
very stern as he said, "Now, sir, let me 
know the rights of this story." 

' ' I suppose Julia has told it to you 
already," replied Hector. 

"She has told me of your ungentle- 
manly and cowardly conduct," said the 
general, warming as he spoke ; "of your 
refusing to give her that camellia, when 
she has no other to wear in her hair to- 
night ; of the abusive way in which you 
addressed her, calling her mean, vain, 
selfish, and so on — terms which no right- 
minded youth of your age would use to 
a young girl. Now have you any thing 
to say for yourself?" 

"I should scorn to implicate another 
lOr the sake of excusing my own con- 
duct," replied Hector proudly; "and 



GRACE'S VISIT. 77 

therefore I will merely say that all she 
has told you is true ; but the plant I 
have been training for Rose, and this is 
why I did not wish Julia to have it.'' 

"Does Rose know that you are train- 
ing it for her ?'' 

"No." 

"Then there is no occasion to give it 
to her. There are plenty of other flow- 
ers for her, and I dare say the gardener 
has camellias which will blow in a few 
days. Why, even here on this very 
plant I see some buds not far from burst- 
ing. There is no excuse whatever for 
you. Julia w^as quite alarmed at your 
violence. This must not go on, remem- 
ber. Now you will cut off this flower 
and give it to her, and beg her pardon 
at the same time." 

" I cannot, sir." 

' Cannot what ?" 

"Beg Julia's pardon." 



78 GRACE'S VISIT. 

"You either do that, or leave my house. 
Now mark, I shall ask Julia before she 
goes to-night whether you have obeyed 
me ; and if I fmd that you have not, I 
shall to-morrow begin to make inquiries 
after a tutor to whom I can send you 
Do you hear ?'' 

"I hear," said Hector; and General 
Courtenay, turning round, was just leav- 
ing the conservatory, when he saw Grace 
beside him. His look and tone softened 
as he laid his hand upon her head, and 
inquired, ''Well, my dear girl, have you 
any thing to say to me ?" 

''Oh, grandpapa, please don't be very 
angry with Hector. He wanted so much 
to please Eose by giving her the camellia 
this afternoon. He forgot himself for a 
moment when he spoke to Julia. I don't 
think he meant what he said." 

"Meant!" exclaimed the general. 
"But, Grace, by which am T to judge 



GKACE'S VISIT. 70 

him; by what he means, or what he 
does ?'' 

" But you know it is very hard to r?o," 
said Grace pleadingly. 

The general smiled, but shook his head 
and went out of the conservatory. Grace 
looked round half timidly towards Hec- 
tor. He had gone away to the other 
end of the conservatory, and was leaning 
with his head against the glass. Grace 
thought he could not have heard what 
she said, and with a sorrowful step she 
left the place. 




80 GRACE'S VISIT. 



CHAPTER YI. 

"Oh, miglit we all our lineage prove, 
Give and forgive, do good and love, 
By soft endearments in kind strife, 
Lightening the load of daily life." keblk 

GrRACE had for some time been lioarcl- 
ing up her money, in order to purchase 
a large and handsomely bound Bible as 
a present to an old servant at home, of 
whom she was very fond. She had al- 
ready saved a considerable sum, and 
hoped in a week or two to possess the 
requisite amount ; she was therefore 
careful to abstain from all unnecessary 
expenses ; but as she walked up stairs, 
on leaving the conservatory, she asked 
herself whether the purchase of a camel- 
lia for Julia might be reckoned under 
this head. She was aware that, at this 



GRACE'S VISIT. 81 

4 

time of year, a camellia cost a shilling, 
and a shilling taken from her fund would 
cause a delay in getting the Bible. But 
then it would enable Hector to give his 
flower to Kose — it would be the means 
of cheering and pleasing poor little Eose 
herself ; and perhaps it might even soft- 
en Hector's heart, and induce him to beg 
Julia's pardon. yes; there was no 
doubt about it ; Grace must buy the ca- 
mellia. 

Fortunately, at the very moment she 
made this determination, the maid who 
waited upon her and Julia appeared in 
out-door equipment. 

''Where are you going, Mary?" in- 
quired Grace. 

"I have an errand, miss, in the vil- 
lage. I shall not be away more than an 
hour." 

" Shall you be passing by the nursery 
gardens ?" 

Grace's Visit. 1 1 



82 GRACE'S VISIT. 

"Yes, miss, I sliall," replied Mary, 
" and I may very likely go in for a few 
minutes, as my brother is one of the un- 
der-gardeners." 

"Oh, then I will trouble you to get 
something for me." And Grace ex- 
plained what she wanted, gave Mary the 
shilling, and afterwards, with a heart 
considerably lightened, went to inquire 
after Eose. 

Rose's room was one of the most cheer- 
ful apartments in the house. It was large, 
light, and airy, and had three lofty win- 
dows ; it contained many beautiful pic- 
tures, amusing books, and other treas- 
ures, for G-eneral Courtenay had spared 
neither pains nor expense in making it 
as pleasant as possible for the young in- 
valid. She now lay on a comfortable 
sofa, drawn up to one of the windows ; 
and Ferrers, who esteemed it as much 
her delight as her duty to watch over 



GKACE'S VISIT. 83 

her young mistress, was seated near her 
at work. 

Eose's face brightened when she saw 
Grace ; and Ferrers, knowing that she 
was leaving her in good fellowship, took 
her departure. Grace sat down in the 
chair vacated by the nurse, and took one 
of Eose's hands in hers. 

Much paler, much thinner, much more 
wasted was little Eose, since the day on 
which our story last concerned her. Her 
eyes shone brighter than ever, and the 
look of thought was still busy upon her 
brow. But it would not be very long 
now, little Eose, before that look of 
thought should be taken away. 

"Do you feel better this morning, 
darling ?" 

"Yes, thank you. And when I see 
you come in, Grace, I always feel better.'' 

' ' Would you like to have me read to 
you ; or is your head too tired V^ 



84 GRACE'S VISIT. 

''Oh no, it is not too tired; besides^ 
listening to the reading rests it. I think 
you left off last time at the end of the 
twenty-fourth chapter." 

''Yes, dear, so I did," replied Grace 
as she opened a well-worn volume. It 
was not "Ministering Children" to-day; 
that had been long finished; and that, 
and the conversation on it, had led to 
another book, a book divine and holy, 
and comforting beyond any other to be 
found upon earth. 

Grace began to read the twenty-fifth 
chapter of St. Matthew, and the sick girl 
listened earnestly, holding her cousin's 
hand all the time. 

Eose was beginning, though by slow 
degrees, to know something of the real- 
ity and life of religion, the love of Je- 
sus ; she was beginning to long after that 
love, and to pray to be filled with it. 
She was beginning, now and then, to 



GKACE'S VISIT. 85 

catch glimpses of the glory which lies 
hidden beyond this mortal life. 

It was Grace who, by the blessing of 
God, was helping Hose to choose this 
''better part;" and Eose had conse- 
quently grown to love Grace ardently, 
and to cling to her with that earnest 
affection of which her tender heart was 
peculiarly susceptible. 

The reading was fniished, and Grace 
was just closing the book, when a low 
knock sounded at the door, and Hector 
entered. He half retreated when he saw 
his cousin, but, on second thoughts, came 
on, and kneeling down by Rose's sofa, 
asked her how she felt. 

There w^as a sorrowful tone in his 
voice ; Rose noticed it, and stroking his 
dark hair softly with her hand, she said, 
'' Hector, is any thing the matter?" 

Hector attempted to laugh it off, but 
finding: that he could not succeed, he 



86 GKACE'S VISIT. 

asked, after a while, in a would-be indif- 
ferent manner, ' ' Rosy, what would you 
say if I told you I was going to leave 
you V' ' 

Rose smiled incredulously. 

''You are not going to leave me 
though," she replied. 

"I fear I am,'' said Hector; ''I am 
going away from here ; and if it were not 
for you, I should be glad, for I lead a 
pretty life of it, what with one thing and 
another. But it is hard to leave you, 
my little sweetheart." 

"But, Hector, I don't understand; 
what is it?" cried Rose in an agitated 
voice. "Why are you going; and 
where ?" 

"The fact is, I have had a row with 
my grandfather. He wants me to beg 
Julia's pardon for something in which 
she has been more in fault than I, and 
has told me to choose between doing this 



GEACE'S VISIT. 87 

and going to a tutor at a distance. I can 
never beg pardon of licr, so tlicrc is no 
alternative. I must go." 

Eose's cheeks had turned still paler 
than before, and her large eyes were di- 
lated. She looked appcalingly to Grace, 
and from Grace again to Hector, and 
then buried her face in the cushions, and 
burst into an agony of tears. It was in 
vain that they attempted to soothe her ; 
her sobs rather increased than abated, 
until both Grace and Hector began to 
be alarmed. 

" My darling Eose, please do not cry. 
I beg of you to be quiet, '^ said Hector, 
throwing his arms around her. ' ' You 
will make yourself worse; do try to 
stop.'' 

" Oh, Hector, I can't help it," sobbed 
out the child. " If you only would ask 
Julia's pardon." 

''Yes, if you only would," Grace 



88 GRACE'S VISIT. 

ventured to say, as she stood behind 
him. 

Hector looked very gloomy. "It is 
beyond human nature/' he said ; "I can- 
not stand the way in which she behaves 
to me — I cannot beg her pardon. '^ 

''But don't you think it would be 
right?'*' said Grace gently; "I am sure 
you will be sorry afterwards, if you do 
not." 

"Oh yes, indeed. Hector, you will — 
you Avill," cried Eose, half starting up. 
"I must die. Hector ; and I shall die the 
sooner if you go. Perhaps it may be 
selfish to talk of myself in this way, but 
I know you care for me ; and Oh, I want 
you to care for Julia. It will be so bit- 
ter to die, knowing that I leave you un- 
happy, without any one to love you, or 
any one whom you love in your home. 
Hector, dearest Hector, I do not ask you 
many things." 



J! Illlfl 



, .liiitiUi; 







GEACE'S VISIT. 89 

Hector was moved ; lie never allowed 
himself to think that it was even possible 
for Eose to die, and he would do or bear 
any thing sooner than hear her mention 
the subject. 

"Well, Rosy," he said at last, "I will 
submit for your sake, but only for your 
sake, remember ; only because you are 
such a foolish little thing, and cry your 
eyes out at Avhatever vexes you. I 
wish, though, that I could do it for 
Grace's reason, because it would be 
right," he added, looking round to the 
place where Grace had been standing. 

But she had left the room; she had 
heard Mary's voice in the passage, and 
anxious to ascertain whether the camel- 
lia had arrived, had slipped quietly 
away. Almost as Hector spoke, she 
reappeared, her eyes and cheek glowing 
with pleasure, and in her hand a splen- 
did white camellia. 
12 



90 GRACE'S VISIT. 

"Oh Grace, Grace/' cried Eose, '4ie 
lias iDromised; lie is going to ask her 
pardon." 

"I am very, very glad," said Grace 
earnestly ; and then, with a meaning 
look at Hector, she continued, ''See 
what I have bought for Julia to wear in 
her hair to-night." 

"How beautiful!" exclaimed Eose; 
but Hector looked up with a heightened 
color. 

"What, Grace, you have bought that? 
But I thought you were saving up your 
money for a particular purpose." 

"So I am," said Grace, coloring also; 
" but a little delay is of no consequence, 
and I very much wanted to give this ca- 
mellia to Julia." 

Hector said nothing more in Eose's 
presence ; but when the luncheon-bell 
rang, he and Grace left the room to- 
gether, and as soon as the door was 



GKACE'S VISIT. 91 

closed behind them, he seized her 
hand. 

" Grace, indeed I do not deserve this 
kindness. It was not enough that you 
spoke for me to my grandfather, but 
you have bought this also : I wish you 
had not." 

"It has made me very happy," said 
Grace. 

"You see," continued Hector, look- 
ing down and speaking rather confused- 
ly ; "you see it is so hard to bring down 
my temper, and I know what a wretched 
one I've got, well enough; but don't 
think I'm quite without heart, and I'm 
very much obliged to you for being so 
kind to Eosy." 

"I love her very much," replied 
Grace with a slight look of surprise. 

"She is the only one I get on with 
here ; all the rest think me such a good- 
for-nothing fellow, and perhaps they are 



92 GEACE'S VISIT. 

right. But still it is pleasant to know 
that somebody cares for one, and I can't 
tell what would become of me if — " 

He paused, and Grace said timidly, 
''But you know we have some one who 
cares for us always." 

Hector looked up quickly. "What 
do you mean V 

"1 was thinking just then — I hope 
you don't mind my telling you — I was 
thinking of that verse in the Bible which 
says, 'He careth for you.' " 

Hector was silent ; Grace feared lest 
she might have vexed him, and as they 
went down stairs she could not help say- 
ing, " I hope I have not made you angry 
by reminding you of that." 

"Angry! Oh no; thank you very 
much," said Hector earnestly; and then 
they went into the dining-room. 

Julia was there alone, and Hector at 
once going up to her, apologized for hav- 



GRACE'S VISIT. i)3 

ing spoken to her so ronglily, and asked 
her to forgive him. 

Julia readily assented ; and so peace 
was made. She was very silent during 
the meal ; her conscience accused her of 
having been no less in fault than her 
brother, and some little struggle went on 
in her secret heart as to whether, after 
all, she should consent to relinquish the 
flower. But for this small act of self- 
sacrifice her vanity proved too strong ; 
and it was therefore a great relief to her 
when Grrace produced a camellia even 
more lovely than the one she coveted, 
and begged her to accept it. 

She wore the flower in her hair that 
night, and if it failed to yield her the 
amount of pleasure she had anticipated, 
Grace at least was blessed with that deep 
happiness which is the portion of the 
peacemaker. 



94 GRACE'S VISIT. 



CHAPTER YII. 

•* Je&us, perfect my trust, 

Strengthen the hand of my faith ; 
Let me feel thee near when I stand 
On the edge of the shore of death — 

*'Feel thee near when my feet 
Are slipi ing over the brink ; 
For it may be I 'm nearer home, 

JSmrer now than I think." cabey. 

It was Sunday evening. Church bells 
were ringing in the distance, but other- 
wise an unbroken stillness prevailed all 
around. The sun had set, and the peace- 
ful twilight was gathering over the earth. 
The trees in the park began to look grey 
and shadowy, and the outlines of the far- 
away hills were sinking into dimness. 

Grace sat beside the window in Eose's 
room. She had been reading, but the 
book had dropped into her lap, and with 
folded hands she was gazing silently out, 



GRACE'S VISIT. 95 

thoughtfully watching the deepening 
shade. 

Kose lay as usual upon the sofa ; she 
was not so well this evening, and had 
fallen asleep. 

The sweet church bells had a Sabbath 
sound, and as Grace listened to them, 
her heart seemed drawn away from earth 
to the "land that is very far off." She 
thought of the "everlasting spring," the 
"never-fading flowers," the "sweet 
fields," so green and calm and still be- 
neath the heavenly skies ; and while 
thinking of these things she could almost 
fancy that she saw them, and the chim- 
ing of the bells seemed blending with 
the chords of angel minstrelsy. 

Her reverie was interrupted by Eose, 
who suddenly awoke with a start, and 
called to her, "Grace, are you there?" 

"Yes, dear. Have you had a nice 
Bleep ?" 



96 GRACE'S VISIT. 

" Oh yes, and such a lovely dream. I 
dreamt of the old days long ago when I 
was well and happy, and it seemed as 
thongh Louisa and I were vfalking to- 
gether in a beautiful place near Hyeres, 
a place where we often used to walk be- 
fore she grew so much worse ; and the 
sky was so blue, and the flowers were 
so delightful, of such bright colors, and 
smelling so sweetly. Then suddenly 
the scene changed, and we were rowing 
down the Ehine. I saw the vineyards 
on the banks, and the mountains stretch- 
ing to the clouds, and the boatmen were 
singing a strange wild song, and a white 
swan was sailing on the water near us, 
and so I awoke." 

"Had you not better go to sleep 
again, and dream some more ?" 

" Oh no ; I could not dream like that 
again. But how I wish it were real. I 
have such a longing to see the mountains 



GRACE'S VISIT. 97 

once more, and tlie vineyards, and to 
feel the sweet fresh air. We used to 
spend such happy days abroad. I can 
hardly believe that now it is all over, 
and that I have seen my last of them, 
and am going on so fast to the silent 
grave." 

Grace rose from* her seat and went to 
kneel by the sofa, saying, in a low tone, 
"Don't say that, darling;" but Rose 
was excited now, and she continued 
talking. 

"Yes, G-race, it is quite true. I am 
dying, and I don't want to die. The 
world is — Oh, so beautiful, and I love it 
so much. I love the trees and the flow- 
ers and the birds, and I cannot bear to 
leave them. It is autumn now; the 
leaves are beginning to fall, and I shall 
never, never see them again ; I shall be 
gone before they come back: and the 
grave is such a gloomy place, Grace ; it 

Gi-Rce's Visit. 13 



98 GEACE'S VISIT 

frightens me to think of it. Oh, why 
must I die, when I am so young ?" 

"Hush, Eose ; you should not talk in 
this way, dearest. You are mistaken, 
indeed you are. You will not go to the 
grave when you die; it is only your 
body that will be there — your tired lit- 
tle body, you know, which gives you so 
much pain. It will rest there, and be- 
fore long it will crumble away, and you 
will see it no more till it rises at the last 
day; but you, Eose, if you love Jesus, 
and find in your heart that peace and 
forgiveness which the Holy Spirit gives, 
the thinking part of you, the part of 
3^ou which loves and hopes and wishes, 
will rise up far above, to a world more 
beautiful than this, to a home where 
many friends will meet and welcome 
you." 

" But I must leave so many behind," 
said Eose. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 99 

" Only for a little time, we soon shall 
come to you ; and till then you will have 
Jesus and the holy angels, and thousands 
of others who have lived and died upon 
the earth like yourself. And then you 
will be so safe — out of reach of all trou- 
ble, sin, and i^ain. Oh, sometimes, when 
I think of that world, I could almost 
wish to go with you. But this hope, dear 
Eose, of the bright and happy future, 
we can only have through faith in Jesus 
Christ.'' 

"Who taught all this to you, Grace? 
What is it that makes you so different 
from other girls ?" 

''I did not know that I was different 
from other girls," replied Grace ; "but 
mamma has taught me to love these 
things ever since I can remember.'' 

"I wish that you had been with poor 
Louisa when she died," said Eose ; "she 
had no one to teach her and help her, as 



3sr 






100 GEACE'S VISIT. 

YOU teach and help me, and she was 
often so unhappy. May I tell you all 
about her? I feel inclined to talk to- 
night, and I have wanted to tell you 
about her for some time." 

'' I shall like to hear very much," said 
Grace ; and Eose continued : 

"Louisa was always very delicate, 
and the doctors were afraid of her going 
into a decline ; so grandpapa took us, as 
you know already, to live abroad for her 
sake. We went to a good many places, 
one after the other, travelling among the 
German watering-places, and staying 
some time at Ems. Last of all, grand- 
papa hired a very pretty little villa at 
Hyeres, in the south of France, and there 
we lived until Louisa died. 

"Hyeres was a quiet place compared 
with some that we had seen before ; but 
we all liked it, it was so shady, and the 
country so beautiful. There were many 



GRACE'S VISIT. 101 

invalids brought there, for the air is very 
balmy ; and in the cemetery were many 
English graves, the greater number those 
of young people ; but several of the in- 
valids whom we saw were taken home 
again much better, and this encouraged 
Louisa, and made her hope that she too 
would recover. 

''I wish you could have seen Louisa. 
^She was — Oh, so beautiful. Her face, 
as I remember it, was generally either 
very pale, or else just tinted with a del- 
icate pink, although latterly she often 
had a bright rose color, which came on 
in the evening. She was rather short, 
and very slight. There was something 
in her air which always made me think 
of a drooping flower. 

"She was very sweet-tempered too, 
and very merry, so that every one who 
saw her liked her. I think I told you 
that they called me her child. I was 



102 GRACE'S VISIT. 

much smaller then, you know, and she 
used to pet me, and tell me long stories 
that she composed herself. They were 
strange, wild stories, about countries far 
away, and beautiful fairy regions and 
cities up in the stars. I once for a few 
nights slept in a little bed in her room, 
and I know she used to lie awake, watch- 
ing the stars and thinking. I wondered 
at such times how it was that there^ 
seemed such a searching look in her 
eyes. 

"We had not been at Hyeres long 
before she grew much better ; indeed we 
all thought her nearly well, and grand- 
papa began to talk about coming to Eng- 
land. But the doctors advised him to 
stay in France another year, that her 
health might be entirely reestablished, 
they said ; but before that year was out, 
Louisa had grown worse again. 

"I remember one Sunday evening — 



GEACE'S VISIT. . 103 

it was lier nineteenth birthday — we were 
all in the school-room with Miss Loveitt, 
who had been reading aloud, and Louisa 
said in her bright way, 'Well, Miss 
Loveitt, you none of you expected me 
to live to be nineteen, and yet here I 
am, almost as strong as any of you, and 
looking forward to returning to England 
next year.' 

^ '' 'Yes, you certainly are w^onderfully 
improved,' said Miss Loveitt to her. 

"Louisa was silent for a few min- 
utes after this, and then she said more 
gravely, ' I wonder where I should have 
been now if I had died when I was so 
ill. I often think of that, and it puzzles 
me.' 

" 'It need not puzzle you, my dear,' 
Miss Loveitt answered; 'you would be 
in heaven, of course. You have always 
been a good, affectionate girl, and anx- 
ious to do right.' 



104 GRACE'S VISIT. 



( ( ( 



But I have often been naughty 
too,' said Louisa. 

' ' ' Yes ; but in a general way you have 
been good. God is very merciful ; and 
if, on the whole, we endeavor to do our 
duty, he will not be over-stern in pun- 
ishing our faults.' 

"Louisa said no more; but she was 
not satisfied, I know, for she afterwards 
remarked to me, 'I wish I knew whether 
Miss Loveitt is right in her opinion of 
Grod ;' and then she sighed, and looked 
very thoughtful for a moment, but soon 
was merry again. 

''The next week grandpapa gave a 
large party. I had gone to bed, but 
they told me about it next day — how 
Louisa talked and laughed, and charmed 
all the ladies and gentlemen. But she 
overtired herself, for before the people 
went, she fainted suddenly away, and 
was carried to her room. 



GKACE'fci VISIT. 1U5 

"It was from that time she seemed to 
grow weaker, and Miss Loveitt noticed 
that her cough, which she had lost, was 
returning. All through the winter she 
grew w^orse and worse, but always thought 
that she Avas better, and her laugh was 
happy as ever when she said that the 
time was very near noAV for her to return 
to England. 
''She often talked about Aberford, 
and said how glad she should be to see 
it again, and wondered whether the old 
servants would remember her, and if 
they would think her much altered. But 
yet sometimes, when she had been left 
alone, we used to find her crying ; so 
grandpapa said that she was low-spirit- 
ed, and got her ever}^ amusement he 
could think of. 

''The spring passed away, and still 
she went on growing w^orse. At last 
the summer came. One evening in June 

14 



106 GllACE'S VISIT. 

she and I were sitting together ; she had 
been nnnsually silent that day, and by 
and by she said, ' Rose, I sometimes 
wonder — I dare say it is only fancy — 
but I sometimes wonder whether, after 
all, I ever shall recover.' 

'' I began to ciy, but she took no no- 
tice, and went on speaking, her great 
eyes looking steadily out into the trees. 

'' 'You see I feel so ill sometimes, and 
my cough seems as if it would not go 
away ; and Rose, if I should indeed die, 
where should I go ; what would become 
of me V 

" I answered, 'Miss Loveitt said you 
would go to heaven ;' but she shook her 
head sadly. 

" 'Miss Loveitt does not know. She 
calls me good, but I am not good really. 
I have done many wicked things, and I 
am afraid to appear before God, whom I 
have so disregarded and disobeyed.' 



GRACE'S VISIT. 107 

*'I could not reply, and slic contin- 
ued : ' I have not thought about religion 
enough, and I do n't know how to pray. 
I have always thought the Bible di\y, 
and have heard that it was too gloomy a 
book for sick people. I have been too 
fond of gayety and pleasure, and I have 
had no one to force those things upon 
me, no one to explain them, no one to 
tell me how to love them. I know that 
Jesus died for our sins, but I cannot go 
to him ; I don't know how, and I am too 
wicked. He would not accept me now, 
I fear, when I have wasted all my life, 
and only come at the end of it because I 
am afraid. But still, if I only knew— if 
I only could go to him properly, I should 
be so glad. Eose, do you think that 
grandpapa would let me see a clergy- 
man ? If you will run and ask him to 
come to me, I will talk to him about it 
at once.' 



108 GRACE'S VISIT. 

"I ran directly ; grandpapa came, and 
they had a long talk. At the end of it, 
I went into the room. Louisa was smil- 
ing again ; all her unhappiness seemed 
gone, and grandpapa was saying, 'My 
darling, you are gloomy and weak and 
low-spirited. I must take you some- 
where for a change. But you shall see 
a clergyman, if you like ; only wait until 
to-morrow; perhaps then you ma}^ feel 
more cheerful ; if not, I will send for 
him; we will see. Are you contented 
now, dear?' 

" Louisa kissed him, and told him he 
had cheered her wonderfully already, 
and then she went up to bed. 

" Afterwards I crept into her room ; I 
always loved to be near her, and I knelt 
down by her pillow ; she was just drop- 
ping off to sleep. She put her arm round 
me, and wished me good-night, and call- 
ed me her darling. Then she fell asleep. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 109 

I was still beside her, when she said, as 
if talking in a dream, ' Am I going there? 
That country is not England.' 

''After this all was very still, and I 
was just on the point of going, when she 
began to cough violently. This awoke 
her ; she opened her eyes, and suddenly 
blood rushed from her mouth, and she 
seemed struggling for breath. I was 
frightened, and rang the bell loudly. 
Grandpapa, Miss Loveitt, and some of 
the servants came running into the room ; 
they got between me and the bed, so that 
I could not see it; but somehow there 
was a shriek and a confusion: I heard 
Louisa's voice once more exclaim, 'That 
country is not England ;' and then came 
a deep, dead silence, and Miss Loveitt 
said, 'She is gone.'^ 

" I remember no more, for I fainted at 
the words, and when I awoke, was in 
my own bed.'' 



110 GRACE'S VISIT. 

''And was Louisa really dead?" said 
Grace. 

'* Yes, reall}^ Oh, Grace, that dread- 
ful time ; I can never forget it. And 
now I can scarcely bear ever to think of 
her, for I don't know where she is, 
and—'' 

Rose shuddered, and covered her eyes 
with her hands. 

''Grace, do you think ohe is with = 
Jesus?" 

"Dear Eose," said Grace soothingly, 
"I can quite well understand how hard 
it must be for you to feel that in this life 
we can never know for certain where 
she is. But don't you think it better to 
trust it all to Jesus, and to rest content- 
ed to leave it in his hands ? We know 
how very wise and good he is, and how 
he always orders every thing for the 
best ; and we know too that Louisa did 
wish to love him, and was already be- 



GRACE'S VISIT. Ill 

ginning to seek after him when she died. 
He accepted the dying thief at the hist 
moment of his life, and he is anxious 
that all should be saved. So I wish you 
w^ould try and set your mind at peace ; 
for Jesus is over all, and he knows 
best.'^ 

"Oh what a Saviour he must be," 
cried Rose, suddenly throwing her arms 
round Grace; "how thankful I am that 
I have you to tell me of him. I see now 
how ungrateful it is to put off thinking 
about him to the end. Will you pray 
to him to make me a child of God, and 
to be with me when I die ?'' 

"I will indeed, as I do always,'' said 
Grace; "and I know that he will hear 
our prayers, for he has promised.'' 

At this moment Ferrers entered with 
a light, and Grace, seeing that Rose was 
very tired, bade her good-night, and 
went awav. 



112 GEACE'S VISIT. 



CHAPTER Till. 

**Tlie higliest hopes we cherish here, 

How soon they tire and faint. 
How many a spot defiles the robe 

That wraps an earthly saint. 
Oh for a heart that never sins ; 

Oh for a soul washed white ; 
Oh for a voice to praise my God, 

Nor weary day nor night." 

About this time two young ladies of 
tlie name of Murray came with their 
parents to stay a few days at Aberford. 
They were good-natured girls, but want- 
ing in judgment, and they very openly 
expressed their admiration of Grace. 
They praised Julia also, but not so high- 
ly, for they had taken a great fancy to 
Grrace ; and indeed they lost no oppor- 
tunity of making her aware of this fact. 

The morning after their arrival w^as 
wet, so that it was impossible to leave 



GEACE'S VISIT. 113 

the house, and they were therefore com- 
pelled to find amusement within doors. 
Grace and Julia brought various things 
to show them, and among these was a 
portfolio of choice water-color paintings. 

''Oh, the sight of these pictures gives 
me an idea," cried the eldest Miss Mur- 
ray, who was extremely fond of draw- 
ing. '-Do you think. Grace, that you 
would have patience to sit for your por- 
trait?" 

''I dare say," replied Grace, blushing 
and smiling. ^-"Why do you ask?" 

''Because I am engaged upon a paint- 
ing at home, and want a model for one 
of the principal countenances. Your face 
would just answer the purpose, if you 
would allow me to draw it.'" 

Grace instantly consented. 

"I am so glad that I have seen you/' 
exclaimed Miss Murray, as she rubbed 
her colors. "Your face quite embodies 

Grace's Visit. 1 5 



1J4 GEACE S VISIT. 

some vague ideas of beauty which have 
been flitting about in my head for some 
time.'^ 

Grace was in secret not ill-pleased to 
hear herself extolled. She at first thought 
Miss Murray rather foolish, but soon 
changing her mind, found her delightful. 
The morning passed rapidly and pleas- 
antly; and at luncheon Grace detected 
herself making private comparisons be- 
tween her own eyes and those of Julia, 
who was seated opposite. She checked 
herself at once, for her mother had al- 
ways specially warned her against any 
fault of this kind ; but she did not feel 
the same quick compunction of conscience 
which usually followed upon her slightest 
jdelding to temptation. 

Grace had never been accustomed to 
think much about herself; and it had sel- 
dom before occurred to her to consider 
whether her features were well- formed 



GRACE'S VISIT. 115 

or the reverse. Mrs. Courtenay liiul 
succeeded in convincing her that mere 
personal beauty is in itself of small iiii- 
|)ortance. But now Mrs. Courtenay v/as 
not by to counteract the evil effects of 
Miss Murray's ill-bestowed flattery, and 
somehow the words of admiration seem- 
ed very agreeable. 

After luncheon, the rain having ceas- 
ed, the whole party went out into the 
park. Miss Murray possessed herself of 
Grace, and made her walk with her, to 
which arrangement Grace was indeed 
nothing loath. 

The conversation fell upon balls, thea- 
tres, and operas, and Miss Murray gave 
her companion a long account of her last 
season in London. 

' ' Shall you not be glad when you are 
old enough for such things?" she inquir- 
ed of Grace. 

''I do not suppose that I shall ever go 



116 GKACE'S VISIT. 

out very much, " ans\yerecl Grace 
ma would not allow me, I know." 

"Why not?" exclaimed Miss Murray 
in surprise. 

Grace was rather at a loss for a reply ; 
for although she quite well knew her 
mother's opinions, she shrank from con- 
fiding them to one who, for aught she 
knew, might only ridicule them. Min- 
gling with this feeling was another, hith- 
erto a stranger in Grace's breast: un- 
consciously she was beginning to feel 
somewhat ashamed of the difference be- 
tween her mother's opinions and those of 
Miss Murray. She therefore merely 
said, ''Mamma does not approve of too 
much gayety." 

''Ah, but she will alter her mind when 
you are grown up," replied Miss Murray, 
laughing. "You will be such a pretty 
girl that she will be unable to resist the 
temptation of exhibiting you." 



GllACE'S VISIT. 117 

Grace was silent, but felt more and 
more self-complacent; and this mood 
continued during the whole of the day. 
She made no effort to throw it off: her 
good principles Avere for the time forgot- 
ten, overpowered by the force of the 
temptation. 

When Julia and herself went up to 
oed, and she was alone in her little dress- 
ing-room, she sank into a seat and built 
up a pleasing castle in the air, of which, 
almost for the first time in her life, her- 
self was sole owner and occupier. At 
length rising, she began to undress ; and 
this finished, she sat down as usual to 
read her evening chapter. As she open- 
ed her Bible, her eye fell upon the card 
which was pasted on one of the fly- 
leaves. This card contained a list of 
questions for self-examination, and Grace 
was accustomed to use them every night. 

She had almost forgotten the task this 



118 OilACE'S VISIT. 

evening, but the sight of the card recall- 
ed it to her memory. The little prelim- 
inary prayer, "Search me, God, and 
know my heart; try me, and know my 
thoughts ; and see if there be any wick- 
ed way in me, and lead me in the way 
everlasting," sobered her in great meas- 
ure, and she began the questions thought- 
fully. "With the first of these came con- 
viction; it was a very simple inquiry: 
"How have I spent the day?'' 

How indeed? In seeking the glory 
of G-od? In following the footsteps of 
Jesus? In searching to be more pure 
and blameless each moment in his sight? 
In striving to work for him? In helping 
or comforting others ? In fighting down 
all temptation ? In keeping a steadfast 
gaze above? 

All the circumstances of her fault 
flashed instantaneously upon her mind ; 
she could not bear it, and falling on her 



GEACE'S VISIT. 119 

knees beside the chair, she burst into a 
fit of crying. The tears shed were tears 
of bitter repentance. She would have 
given much to recall the hours of that 
day, to live them over again. But no, 
this was impossible; they were past and 
gone, gone up to the book of God's re- 
membrance. 

A long time Grace remained upon her 
knees in prayer, seeking forgiveness and 
strength ; and when she arose was much 
humbled, feeling that "in herself dwelt 
no good thing.'' Thus she was led to 
cling closer to Jesus ; for she knew now 
better than before how impossible it is 
to cling to the so-called pleasures of the 
world on one hand, and to maintain that 
sweet communion with the Father on the 
other. ' ' Ye cannot serve God and mam- 
mon." 

Ere she laid her head upon the pillow 
she had formed some new resolutions. 



120 GKACE'S VISIT. 

and determined, by the help of the Holy 
Spirit, never to allow her mind to dwell 
on her own personal appearance. She 
determined to labor more than ever for 
tliat hidden beauty, the beauty of the 
soul; she determined to lose no oppor- 
tunity of reminding herself of her own 
weakness ; and she determined that, 
should Miss Murray inquire again con- 
cerning her mother's opinions, she would 
speak them out unhesitatingly, as cir- 
cumstances might require, never more, 
by the grace of God, allowing herself to 
be "ashamed of Jesus." 

Having laid down these rules for her- 
self, Grace felt much happier, and ere 
half an hour had elapsed she was sound- 
ly asleep. 

The next morning she prayed earnest- 
ly for strength ; but having once yielded 
to temptation, she found that it was now 
more than ever difficult to resist and 



GKACE'8 VISIT. 121 

forestall its advances. Proud and vain 
thoughts constantly found their way into 
her heart ; and it seemed to Grace that 
the more steadflistly she withstood them, 
the more frequently did they return. 
This was indeed a day of conflict; but 
Grace knew that she well deserved it, 
and when, on going to rest that night, 
she looked back through the past hours, 
she felt that even this constant struggling 
was far better than the deceitful calm 
into which she had previously fallen. 

Miss Murray asked her no further 
question concerning her mamma's opin- 
ions until the last evening of her stay, 
when Grace happened to be alone with 
her. 

''Grace," said she, ''I feel rather 
curious to know on what ground your 
mamma would object to your going to 
balls and parties?'' 

''She would not object to my going 
16 



122 GKACE'S VISIT. 

sometimes to friendly gatherings," re- 
plied Grace ; * ' she would only disap- 
prove of my forming the habit of going 
out every day and every night, as many 
people do, which one way or another has 
an influence for the worse." 

''I for one, when I am in London,*' 
said Miss Murray laughing. " J3ut come, 
do you agree with her?" 

"Yes, of course I do ; I always agree 
with mamma," replied Grace simply. 

''But tell me your reasons?" said Miss 
Murray, laughing still more. 

''There are a good many reasons," 
answered Grace ; "but the chief is, that 
life was not given to us to spend in noth- 
ing better than pleasure." 

"Why was life given to us?" asked 
Miss Murray. 

' ' The Bible says we are to spend it for 
the glory of God, preparing for eternity,'' 
replied Grace. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 123 

*'01i, I see. You have picked up 
some Methodistical ideas," exclaimed 
Miss Murray. " I think it a pity, Grace, 
that ijou should adopt such rigid opin- 
ions." 

''But they are real; they are true," 
cried Grace earnestly. "We must die ; 
we must leave this world some day; we 
cannot help it. And life is very short." 

"Yes, I know it is short," said Miss 
Murray; ''but over-religious ideas will 
not help to make it longer." 

"We cannot be over-religious," ex- 
claimed Grace. "We can make our re- 
ligion unattractive, but w^e can never 
have too much of it." 

"I call it having too much, when it 
prevents you from sharing in any inno- 
cent amusement," said Miss Murray. 

"But indeed it does not," replied 
Grace; "it makes all innocent amuse- 
ments sweeter. It only teaches us not 



124 GRACE'S VISIT. 

to look for our chief happiness here, lest 
we should lose it hereafter." 

"We cannot exist without happiness," 
said Miss Murray. 

"Very true. And that is the very 
aim of our holy religion, the grand 
scheme of a loving Father to redeem sin- 
ful man, and make him happy in this life 
and that which is to come. People who 
have never experienced this do not know 
what true happiness is. You cannot tell 
how sweet it is to feel that Jesus loves 
you, and that when you die you will be 
with him for ever and for ever. The 
happiness which is only obtained from 
the things of this world will die with us ; 
but not so with treasures in heaven." 

''Don't you think a good deal of all 
that may be fancy?" said Miss Murray. 

''Oh, no, no; if you only felt it, you 
would not say so. If you only felt it, you 
would consider no trouble and no sacri- 



GRACE'S VISIT. 125 

fice too great to bear for Iliin. In fiict, 
tliat wliicli yon consider to be a sacrifice, 
to me is none. Such things would inter- 
fere with my spiritual comfort." 

Miss Murray looked thoughtful for a 
moment ; then laughing again, she said, 
"You are quite a little preacher, Grace. 
If I listened long to you, you would per- 
suade me to don a suit of sober gray, and 
to go out with musty tracts and cups of 
gruel for the dirty people in cottages." 

A sudden impulse seized Grrace. She 
went up to Miss Murray, and throwing 
her arm round her, looked up into her 
face." 

"Oh, Miss Murray; if I could only 
say something to show you what the love 
of Jesus is. You will want it some day ; 
indeed you will, when you are dying, and 
earth seems fixding away. Then there 
will be no more balls or parties ; and this 
short life will be ended, and the new life, 



126 GEACE'S VISIT. 

that is to last for ever, will be coming 
fast upon yon. Oh, if yon have not Jesus 
then, what will yon do?'' 

Miss Murray stooped to kiss G-race's 
forehead, and as she did so, a tear-drop 
fell upon the fair young cheek. 

''Perhaps I will think of this some 
day/' she said in a low and half-choked 
voice ; and then, rising hurriedly from 
her seat, she left the room. 

Many a time in her after life that 
scene recurred to Miss Murray : many a 
time Grace's voice seemed still beside 
her, repeating over and over again the 
words, "When you are dying, and earth 
seems fading away." They followed 
Miss Murray about ; they haunted her ; 
she could not silence or avoid them ; and 
after a while, God blessed them, and she 
was led to see herself as an unsaved 
sinner. 

She began to long after One who could 



GRACE'S VISIT. 127 

never die, and who would receive licr 
when she was dying — after a country 
which can never fade, and which would 
harbor her when earth seemed fading. 
And so, in longing, she began to seek ; 
and in seeking, at length she found; and 
a peace fell on her which she felt far 
better than any worldly pleasures can 
bestow. 




128 GRACE'S VISIT. 



CHAPTER IX. 

"Not with the trifler gay, 

To whom life seems but sunshine on the wave ; 
Not with the empty idler of the day, 

My lot." BOKAn. 

It was not until October that Gleneral 
Courtenay procured a governess to his 
taste. He then heard of one who seemed 
in every way fitted to superintend Ju- 
lia's education ; but this lady would not 
be able to come to Aberford before the 
ensuing January ; and in the interim 
Julia was left to do pretty much as she 
chose. It was true that G-eneral Cour- 
tenay himself volunteered to help her 
and Grace each morning in their les- 
sons ; but to this plan there were con- 
tinual interruptions. The general was 
perpetually being called away by en- 



GRACE'S VISIT. 129 

gagemeiits still more pressing. His 
steward wished to see liim ; or morning 
visitors summoned liim to the drawing- 
room ; or the early post brought impor- 
tant business letters which required im- 
mediate attention ; and thus there were 
scarcely four mornings out of the six on 
which Julia and Grace were not de- 
spatched to the school-room to finish 
their tasks by themselves. 

There wxre many lessons indeed which 
they w^ere w^ell able to continue alone ; 
and General Courtenay signified it as 
his wish that a certain number of hours 
each day should be set apart for this 
purpose, as though a governess were 
with them ; but Julia took advantage of 
the absence of any controlling power to 
spend 'much of the time allotted for study 
in occupations more to her taste. Grace, 
on the other hand, wdio was anxious to 
learn, and desirous that her mother when 

Gi/ice'g Visit. 1 7 



130 GRACE'S VISIT. 

she returned should find her improved, 
did her best to be industrious and to 
wade through her difficulties, sometimes 
asking Hector's help when any weighty 
passage in her history, or a sum unusu- 
ally abstruse, threatened to baffle her 
endeavors. 

The days thus spent in regular work 
passed quickly and pleasantly. Grace 
wrote every week to her mother, and 
received frequent letters from her ; and 
this constant correspondence in great 
measure alleviated the trial of separa- 
tion. She was now quite domesticated 
at Aberford. General Courtenay had 
grown very fond of his hitherto un- 
known grandchild ; and between herself 
and Eose a friendship had sprung up 
which was a source of great happiness 
to both. And yet it was not perhaps, 
strictly speaking, a friendship ; it was 
more the union which is often seen to 



GRACE'S VISIT. 131 

exist between a stronger and a weaker 
spirit. 

Rose leaned upon and confided in 
Grace, as we lean upon and confide in 
some one better and wiser than our- 
selves. She was the sunshine of her 
sick-room, and it was through her in- 
strumentality that she first learned to 
look upward to things beyond. She 
loved to see Grace sitting near her, to 
hear her sing, to feel the touch of her 
hand. She was quite contented to lie 
for a long time silently watching her 
face. 

Grace equally loved to be with Rose, 
but from a different reason. She liked 
to comfort her, to minister to and sup- 
ply as far as possible her many little 
wants. She liked to soothe her when 
troubled — to pet her and caress her. 
She esteemed it one of her highest priv- 
ileges to help the sick child's heart to 



132 GRACE'S VISIT. 

throb for those joys which earth cannot 
afford. 

The general said that he fancied Rose 
was better since she had grown so fond 
of her cousin ; and better in one sense 
she certainly was, for her mind was more 
at rest. 

But if Grace's principal friend was 
Rose, her chief companion was Julia. 
They shared together every pursuit ; 
they were together in the school-room 
and in the bedroom ; they walked, drove, 
and rode together. Yet their intimacy 
never ripened into any thing more than 
companionship. 

Julia was always constrained when 
with G-race. There were certain topics 
of conversation which she felt she must 
then avoid — her interviews with Totty 
Barnes, for instance, and the novels from 
the circulating library. 

Again, there were many things dear 



GKACE'S VISIT. 133 

to Grace in wliicli Jiilia took no interest. 
She often feared lest slie iniglit be acting 
wrongly in so seldom mentioning the 
highest and most sacred subjects to Ju- 
lia ; but then she feared to dictate, and 
dreaded lest through inefficienc}^ or awk- 
wardness she might do more harm than 
good. The time was coming when, more 
forcibly than by any w^ords, she was to 
be the means of impressing her cousin 
with a conviction of the truth. 

Grrace had resolutely kept her word 
with regard to Totty Barnes. She had 
never accompanied Julia on any of her 
visits to the farm palings, and in fact 
had not again ' met with Totty since the 
day of their first acquaintance. 

One afternoon, however, towards the 
end of October, when Grace and Julia 
were returning from a stroll in the park, 
they saw a figure coming towards them, 
whom Julia instant! v recognized, ex- 



l;U GEACE'S VISIT. 

claimiiiii- jovfullv, "Oh, tliore is Tottv 
Barnes.'' 

''Please don't stop to talk with her,'' 
said Grace persnasively ; but Julia made 
no reply. There was no help for it. 
Totty had perceived them, was quick- 
ening her pace, and the next moment 
was at their side. 

''Well, Miss Julia, this is quite a roni- 
dei/-voo,'' she began in her usually bold 
manner. ''I've just been up to your 
place with some eggs, but I never 
thoua'ht to meet vou as I came back. 
Shall I turn again, and go a piece of the 
way home with you ?" 

"0 yes, please do, Totty," cried Ju- 
lia with a determined glance at Grace. 
"I should like it very much: it is some 
time since I have seen you." 

The three therefore proceeded tow- 
ards the house, Totty walking lamiliarly 
on one side of Julia, and Grace silently 



GHACE'S VISIT. IIJS 

keeping jjaee on the other. In this man- 
ner they had gone some hundred yards, 
when Totty suddenly stopped short in 
the middle of a sentence, and exclaimed, 
" Oh, Miss Julia, a'n't that your grand- 
pa yonder?" 

Julia started, coloring violently, and 
looked up in alarm. Yes, General Cour- 
tenay was close upon them, riding quick- 
ly down the avenue, and it was impossi- 
ble that he should not have observed 
Totty Barnes. 

"I'll go," cried that young lady. 
''Good-by, Miss Julia; good-by. Miss 
Grace;" and so saying, she vanished 
among the trees. 

"Who was that, Julia?" inquired the 
general, reining in Iws horse as soon as 
he had arrived within speaking distance. 

Julia was silent, and her grandfather's 
face bore an unusually stern expression 
as he continued, 



136 GEACE'S VISIT. 

" If I am not much mistaken, your 
companion just now was the daughter of 
farmer Barnes. Is it not so ?" 

Julia stammered out some unintelligi- 
ble reply. She seemed much confused ; 
and the general said, "Are you in the 
habit of associating with that girl ?" 

''No — yes. Sometimes I — at least— 
r don't know — I have seen her before," 
murmured Julia. 

'*I desire that you will see her no 
more then," replied the general, much 
displeased. '' I must say that I am not 
only astonished, but disappointed, at 
finding you in her company at all. I 
thought that ,, although your governess 
was away, you might be trusted to be- 
have as if she were present. To say 
nothing of her being in station and edu- 
cation a most unsuitable companion for 
you, she is, as I ha^^3 often heard, a bold, 
unprincipled girl. I can imagine noth- 



GTiACE S VISIT. 137 

iiig less desirable than that cither you 
or Grace should have any thing to do 
with her." 

The general paused, but Julia made 
no answer. She was very much alarmed 
at her grandpapa when his anger was 
excited against herself; and she now 
stood with her head bent down, ner- 
vously playing wuth the button of her 
glove. The general turned to G race : 

''Grace, I think you seem more steady 
than Julia. I trust to you to see that 
she remembers what I have said. I for- 
bid her to carry on any further inter- 
course with this girl. Do you hear ?'' 

"Yes, grandpapa," answered Grace. 

''Now, Julia," said the general, "re- 
member what I have said ;" and he put 
spurs to his horse, and rode av/ay. 

He was no sooner gone than Julia 
burst into tears. Grace attempted to 
console her, but in vain. Her self-love 

18 



138 GllACE'JS VISIT. 

had been sorely wounded by the reproof 
she had received, and she ungraciously 
repulsed her cousin, saying, " I wont 
be ordered about by you, Grace, though 
grandpapa does say that you are more 
steady than I am." 

"Dear Julia, I am sure I have no 
desire to order you about," exclaimed 
Grace. But Julia did not reply, and 
the rest of the way was traversed in 
silence. 

They did not see General Courtenay 
again until the evening. His manner to 
Julia was then the same as usual ; for 
although easily displeased, his anger 
never dwelt long in his remembrance, 
and he did not for an instant believe his 
favorite grandchild capable of disobey- 
ing him. 

He would have been sorely grieved 
could he but have discerned the thoughts 
that were still working in her brain, 



GRACE'S VISIT. 139 

while she sat quietly at tlic table, to all 
appearance thinking of nothing but a 
collar which Grace was teaching her to 
embroider. 

The fact was that Julia was deeply 
interested in a book which Totty Barnes 
had borrowed for her. She had only 
read the first volume as yet, and was 
burning for the second. She knew that 
the second was in Totty's possession; 
but under the present circumstances, 
how should she be able to procure it ? 

She knew Grace too well to imagine 
that she might be persuaded, under any 
pretence, to connive at a secret inter- 
view. At the same time she feared that 
such an interview could not be contriv- 
ed without Grace's knowledge. Grace 
had always been aware of her previous 
visits to Totty, although she was unable 
to prevent them; and the two cousins 
were so constantlv too;ether, that Julia 



140 



GRACE'S VISIT. 



feared she could not devise any scheme 
by which to steal out into the park alone 
and effect her purpose. . 

After much consideration of the sub- 
ject, she came to the conclusion that it 
was only left to her to trust to chance. 
Some plan hitherto unthought of might 
strike her, or some unlooked-for circum- 
stance favor her wishes. At any rate 
she would wait and see ; and with this 
resolution Julia retired to bed. 




GllACE'S VISIT. 141 



CHAPTER X. 

"How David, when by sin deceived, 
From bad to worse went on ; 
For when the Hoi}'- Spirit 's grieved. 
Our strength and guard are gone." 

NEWTON. 

The aiituinn sun slioiie bright and 
warm into the pleasant school -room. 
Julia and Grace were sitting there to- 
gether, Julia drawing, and Grace with 
bent brow poring over a huge French 
history. 

The door opened, and Ferrers looked 
in. 

" Will one of you two young ladies be 
so kind as to sit with Miss Rose for an 
hour ? She is fast asleep ; but she 
mustn't be left alone, lest she should 
wake, poor dear, and want something. I 
am obliged to go out." 

*'I will go, Ferrers," said Grace, ris- 



142 GRACE'S VISIT. 

ing; but to her astonishment Julia in- 
terposed : 

'' No, Grace, let me. You are always 
with Eose ; / should like to go to her 
for once." 

"Yery well,'' replied Grace, reseat- 
ing herself, "just as you like. I have 
plenty to do here." 

''You must please to be very quiet, 
Miss Julia," said Ferrers as she left the 
room, "for she's been in such pain all 
day it would be a cruelty to rouse her." 

During the last three days Eose had 
been considerably worse, as she had by 
some means or other caught cold, and 
was therefore confined to her bed. Ju- 
lia followed Ferrers on tiptoe into the 
room, and the good nurse established 
her with her drawing at a little table, 
giving her many injunctions not to stir 
until her sister should a3\^ake. This done, 
slie took her departure, carefully closing 



GRACE'S VISIT. 1^3 

the door beliiud liei' ; and soon after- 
wards Julia, looking out of the window, 
espied her crossing the park on her way 
to the yillagc. 

She Avatched the old woman out ol 
sight, and then glanced towards the bed. 
Rose was sleeping very calmly ; she 
looked as though she might not aAvake 
for hours. It was now exactly half-past 
two o'clock, and Julia knew that Ferrers 
could scarcely return before half-past 
three. She stood for a moment unde- 
cided, looked once more at Rose, once 
more out of the window, and then, her 
resolution formed, she quietly left the 
room. 

Stepping lightly across the passage, 
and past the school-room door, she soon 
gained her own apartment, in which she 
locked herself. Hastening to the ward- 
robe where her mantle and hat were 
kept, she hurriedly equipped herself in 



144: GRACE'S VISIT. 

out-door costume. Her veil she could 
not find ; she therefore took that of 
Grace, and muffled up her face with it 
as well as she could.. She now cautious- 
ly unlocked the door, and stood for some 
time in a listening attitude on the thresh- 
old. Then, having satisfied herself that 
the coast was clear, she sped rapidly 
down stairs across the hall, and succeed- 
ed in reaching the park unobserved. 

Julia was at all times a fleet and 
light-footed runner ; her steps were now 
quickened by the fear of discovery, and 
she seemed scarcely to touch the ground 
as she hastened along in the direction 
of farmer Barnes' house. At length she 
came within sight of the palings, and 
there, to her great delight, was Totty in 
the garden, waving her pocket handker- 
chief too as a token that she recognized 
Julia. That young lady soon arrived at 
the palings, and in a few hurried words 



GRACE'S VISIT. 145 

explained the cause and the secrecy of 
her visit. 

Totty did not seem so much surprised 
as Julia had expected on hearing otGlen- 
eral Courtenay's prohibition. The fact 
was, that, secreted behind a tree, she 
had heard every word that he had said 
to his granddaughter concerning her. 

She gave Julia the book she wanted, 
advising her to return it by post, if she 
found another visit impossible. 

''That I certainly shall, '^ replied Ju- 
lia.. 

"Ah, it's a great pity," said Totty, 
who did not, however, choose to betray 
the full extent of her mortification — 
"it's a great pity, more especially as 
my aunt is just on the point of starting 
to go home, so that I am my own mis- 
tress again for some time, and should be 
able to see you oftener. But never 
mind ; we can't help it now. Some time 

Srace's VIrH. 1 9 



146 GRACE'S VISIT. 

or otlier, when that mean little thing 
Miss Grace has gone, we may." 

Julia said that she must return home 
immeiliately, and only lingered to acquit 
herself of her debt to Totty, which was 
considerable, and emptied her purse to 
a penny. She then bade the girl adieu, 
and hiding the book in her pocket, re- 
traced her steps. 

She had gone several yards in safety, 
when, greatly to her alarm, she fancied 
that far behind her she heard a call. 
She paid no further attention to it than 
to redouble her speed. Her veil caught 
upon a thorn-bush ; she vainly tried to 
disentangle it, but finally burst away, 
leaving the veil suspended. Faster and 
faster she ran, until, to her relief, she 
found herself in her own room once more. 

Carefully she removed her things, and 
replaced them in the wardrobe ; then, 
smoothing her hair and composing her 



GRACE'S VISIT. 147 

countenance, she repaired to Rose's 
room. 

Here all was just as she had left it — 
Rose still asleep, and the drawing mate- 
rials lying undisturbed upon the table. 
On referring to the clock, she found that 
she had been only half an hour absent, 
and being somewhat reassured, she sat 
down and applied herself to her pencil. 

The house this afternoon was unusu- 
ally still, but to Julia's troubled mind it 
seemed replete with sounds. Every now 
and then she started, fancying that she 
heard a footstep, and the very songs of 
the birds outside the window sent a ner- 
vous thrill through her frame. 

The door opened very gently, and Ju- 
lia jumped up in alarm ; but it was only 
Grace, who entered noiselessly, with a 
small bouquet of flowers in her hand. 

" Why, Julia, how pale you are," she 
exclaimed. "Are you not well ?" 



148 GRACE'S VISIT. 

'' Yes, I am quite well," said Julia 
irritably. " What do you want?" 

*'I have been out to gather a few 
flowers for Rose. See, I will lay them 
on her pillow, and she will see them 
when she wakes. Are are tired of sit- 
ting here, Julia?" 

' ' Yes, I am rather, " said Julia. ' ' What 
a long time Ferrers is away." 

' ' Shall I change guard with you. I 
am quite fresh, having just come from 
the garden." 

'' Thank you, I should be very glad," 
replied Julia ; and gathering up her pen- 
cils and paper, she left the room. It 
was quite a relief to get out into the pas- 
sage ; the air in Rose's apartment seemed 
suddenly almost stifling. Julia went into 
the school-room, and sitting down at the 
table, leaned her head upon her hand. 

Her mind was full of troubled thoughts ; 
she felt almost certain that the voice 



GRACE'S VISIT. IdO 

which had called after her had been that 
of her grandpapa. If it was so, if he 
liad indeed seen her, and discovered her 
visit to Totty, how should she ever bear 
to face his anger? It was not merely 
an act of disobedience, it was also one of 
deceit; and Julia w^as well aware that 
General Courtenay bore an especial 
antipathy to all modes of underhand 
dealing. 

As she sat brooding over these things, 
and feeling utterly miserable, a heavy 
step sounded on the stairs, coming tow- 
ards the school-room. Julia started up ; 
she knew the step well; and she had 
only time to seize a book, and assume 
the air of being deeply interested there- 
in, when her grandfather entered the 
apartment. 

"Julia," he said, and his voice had 
that peculiar tone which it alwa3^s took 
when he was very angry — "Julia, which 



150 GPtACE'S VISIT. 

of you two girls did I see talking to that 
Totty Barnes again just now ?" 

Julia made a powerful effort to com- 
mand her countenance, while at the same 
time a weight seemed to be removed 
from her spirit. The general had not 
decidedly recognized her ; he had no 
proof that it was she whom he had seen. 
This thought passed like a flash of light- 
ning through her mind, while, as calmly 
as she could speak, she asked, "When 
do you mean, grandpapa ?" 

' ' This afternoon ; about twenty min- 
utes ago. I was in the park, not far 
from farmer Barnes' house, when I saw 
that girl at the palings, talking to some 
one who, as it seemed to me, bore a re- 
markable resemblance either to you or 
Grace. However, I would not allow my- 
self to suspect that either of you could 
be guilty of such dishonorable conduct, 
so I w^alked on without taking any par- 



GEACE'S VISIT. 151 

ticular pains to discover Avlictlicr I was 
right or wrong ; but a few minutes after- 
wards I saw the figure whom I had be- 
fore observed running at headlong speed 
towards the house. She was nearer to 
me than at the first time, sufficiently near 
indeed to convince me that I had not 
been mistaken, but that either you or 
Grace she certainly w^as; which, I could 
not distinguish, as I am so short-sighted 
and you so much resemble each other. 
But now I ask you, Julia, is it possible 
that you have betrayed my trust ?" 

Julia cowered beneath the generaFs 
penetrating glance. ' ' Grandpapa, please 
do n't look so angry. It was not I you 



saw." 



"It was not? I felt sure that would 
be the answer. I did not know, as I 
told you before, how to suspect you of 
such deliberate disobedience ; but at 
the same time," added the general 



152 GRACE'S VISIT. 

musingly, ' ' can I suspect Grace of it 

either?'' 

"Perhaps you loere mistaken," mur- 
mured Julia; "it might be one of the 
girls out of the village." 

The general took no notice of this 
suggestion. He stood in meditative si- 
lence for some moments, and then inquir- 
ed, "Where is Grace now?" 

"WithEose." 

" How long has she been there ?" 

"Only a short time. Ferrers came 
into the school-room at about half-past 
two, and asked one of us to go and sit 
with Rose, as the nurse had business in 
the village. I went, and stayed there 
some time, and a few minutes ago Grace 
came and offered to change." 

" Had she been out, do you know ?" 

"I suppose so, for she was dressed in 
her hat and cloak, and she brought some 
flowers for Rose." 



GRACE'S VISIT. 153 

" Just go and ask her to step to mo for 
a minute," said the general ; but as Julia 
was leaving the room, he called her back. 

"Ha, I had almost forgotten. This 
veil' — whose is it?'' 

The color flooded Julia's cheeks; it 
was the same she had left hanging upon 
the thorn-bush in the park. 

"It belongs to Grace,'" she replied; 
and a cloud passed over the general's 
brow. 

"I could not have believed it," he 
muttered to himself, and then motioned 
Julia to go. She obeyed, and speedily 
returned, accompanied by Grace, whose 
bright face looked not as belonging to 
one who was concealing a great fault. 

"Is this your veil, Grace?'' inquired 
the general, holding up the tattered 
piece of blonde. Grace took it from his 
hand, and examined it in surprise. 

" Yes, grandpapa : but how can it have 



154 GEACE'S VISIT. 

been so torn? It was not so the last time 
I wore it. Where did you find it?" 

" Nay, Grace, I should think you can 
best answer that question." 

The general's manner, indicative of a 
suppressed storm, alarmed G-race. She 
turned pale ; her grandfather observed 
it, and w^as confirmed in his opinion. 

''Well, have you any thing to say?" 
he asked coldl3\ 

"Oh, grandpapa, what have I done? 
Please tell me. Have I made you angry 
in any way? I do n't understand." 

''You understand better than I do, I 
imagine," replied the general; and then 
he proceeded to repeat to her the story 
which he had already told Julia. 

"Indeed, grandpapa," cried Grace 
when he had concluded, "I have not 
been into the park to-day." 

"What did you do then while your 
cousin was with Hose ?" 



GRACE'S VISIT. 155 

"1 finished reading my French his- 
tory first, and then went down into the 
garden to gather a few flowers." 

"But that veil. I saw it torn from 
the hat of the figure who was running. 
I took it from the bush. I now lind it 
belongs to you. How can I believe 
you ?" 

"I don't know how the veil came 
there, grandpapa, but I have neither 
seen nor spoken to Totty Barnes since 
the day you met us in the park." 

The general pondered for a little while ; 
then snatching up his hat, he cried, ''I'll 
settle the matter at once. I '11 go to the 4,, 
girl, and find out from her who has been 
with her." 

So saying, he left the school-room, and 
Julia in blank dismay soon heard the hall 
door close behind him. 



156 GRACE'S VISIT. 



CHAPTER XI. 

oil, faint not in a world like this, 
And thou shalt know ere long, 

Know how sublime a thing it is 

To suffer and be strong." longfellow. 

*'If you please, Miss Julia," said the 
little maid wlio waited upon the school- 
room, going up to Julia, where she knelt 
at the window the picture of listless de- 
spair — "if you please, Miss Julia, here is 
a note just come for you." 

''A note; who from? Who brought 
it?" cried Julia, snatching a soiled and 
badly-folded billet from the servant's 
hand. 

' ' A boy brought it, miss. He looked 
like farmer Barnes' little cow-boy. He 
did n't mention who had sent it, but said 
it was very particular. I think people 



GRACE'S VISIT. 157 

sometimes do send that boy about on er- 
rands, miss." 

Julia listened impatientl}" ; then tore 
open the note. It was written in a strag- 
gling hand on a quarter of a sheet of 
paper : 

"Your grandpa has been here. I 
guessed how the land lay, and told him 
it were not you as come to me, but Miss 
Grace ; so mind you keep it up, if you 
do n't want to disgrace 

"TOTTY BATvNES. 

*'P. S. The lad as brings this is quite 
safe. I shall tell him to run very quick, 
so as to be at the house afore your grand- 
pa. He do n't know that the note 's from 
me, and is too stupid to care, so you 
needn't be afraid. «'T. b." 

A mixed feeling, in which Julia did 
not know whether shame or relief pre- 
dominated, stirred her breast as she fin- 
ished reading this note. One moment 



158 GRACE'S VISIT. 

was there of better things — when Julia 
had ahiiost resolved to cast the tempter 
behind her, to free herself, confess her- 
self in the wrong, and bear her grand- 
father's just anger. But then the thought 
of all the punishment, the degradation, 
the exposure, rushed upon her, over- 
whelming every higher feeling. One 
earnest prayer for strength, one heart- 
felt appeal to Him who is always ready 
to aid, would have enabled Julia to rise 
above the evil, to stand forth more than 
conqueror. But she had not accustomed 
herself to look to Him; she had never 
realized that to Him she was accountable 
for all her actions, and therefore now, in 
the time of trial, no thought of Him cross- 
ed her mind. The temptation overcame 
the better impulse. The better impulse 
fell, and great was the fall of it. 

Her decision made, Julia arose from 
the window. She crumpled up the note 



GRACE'S VISIT. 159 

and put it, as she tliouglit, into her pock- 
et; but in her agitation she only slid her 
hand down one of the folds of her dress. 
The paper fell upon the floor, and un- 
perceived by Julia, lay there. 

She seated herself at the pianoforte, 
and began to practise, as Grace, who 
had been to put aw^ay her hat, entered 
the room. Grace's countenance was un- 
disturbed ; she knew that she was inno- 
cent, and felt assured that her grand- 
father's interview with TottyAvould prove 
his suspicions misplaced. She did not 
however know how to account for the 
discovery of the veil, and could imagine 
no better solution of the mystery than 
the possibility of her having dropped it 
the preceding day, and its having been 
found and appropriated by the girl whom 
the general had seen in the park. 

She now began to gather together the 
books, slates, and other tokens of study, 



IGO GRACE'S VISIT. 

which were lying in an untidy litter upon 
the table. The general was at this mo- 
ment entering the house. Julia heard 
him in consternation ; Grace with a feel- 
ing of relief. 

Just as his footsteps sounded in the 
hall, she stooped to pick up some papers 
which had fallen on the floor. Among 
them was the note. 

Grace supposed it to be something of 
her own, and carelessly ran her eye over 
its contents. In a moment she discern- 
ed the whole of the matter. The truth 
in its fulness flashed upon her. All the 
strength seemed momentarily to forsake 
her frame as she saw what lay before 
her ; but she hastily resolved on what 
course she should pursue. She tore the 
note into a thousand pieces, and threw 
them into the waste basket. At that in- 
stant the general opened the door, and 
came in. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 101 

Tic took no notice of Julia ; his eye, 
stern, searching, severe, was bent on 
Grace, with a look as though, if possible, 
he would read her very soul. 

"Grace," he said, "come with me. I 
want you in my study." 

Grace followed him down stairs, her 
heart busy meantime in prayer, asking 
Jesus to stand by her, never to forsake 
her, to be her strength and sustenance 
in this great trial. Still she felt very 
much frightened, as the general ushered 
her into the study, closed the door, and 
placed a chair for her directly opposite 
his own. 

Some minutes elapsed before he spoke. 
Then in a deep, and to Grace, awful 
tone, he asked, "Well, Grace, have you 
any thing to say to me?" 

Grace burst into tears ; her sobs im- 
peded her utterance, and the general 
continued, "I have been to Barnes' 

OiKce'g visit. 21 



162 GRACE'S VISIT, 

house, and have seen his daughter. I 
asked her, without hesitation, which of 
my granddaughters had just been with 
her at the palings. She attempted eva- 
sion, but soon found this retreat cut off. 
She then confessed that Miss Grace had 
paid her a visit." 

The general paused, and bending for- 
ward, looked at Grace, but she made no 
answer, and he proceeded : 

"I asked the girl if you had been in 
the habit of visiting her. She hesitated 
and equivocated to such a degree that I 
could obtain no satisfactory reply. But 
from what she did say, I infer that this 
is by no means the first time that you 
have met her in the same place. What 
motive can have induced you to disobey 
me thus? What especial pleasure you 
may experience in her society I know 
not ; but this I do know, Grace, that you 
have disappointed and dismayed me 



GHACE'S VISIT. 163 

more tliaii I can find words to express. 
At present, it only remains for me to 
ask you whether you have any excuse to 
offer/' 

''I told you before, grandpapa," cried 
Grace, "that I am innocent of this. I 
have not been to Totty Barnes to-day, 
and I have never been in the habit of 
paying her visits." 

"Do you still persist in your denial?" 
"Oh, grandpapa, I know it is all 
against me ; but I must persist in my 
denial, because it is true. I have not 
done this ; Oh, will you not believe me?" 
"I wish I could believe you, Grace; 
but as you yourself admit, all the facts 
are against you. What possible motive 
could this Totty Barnes have for accus- 
ing you unjustly ? She shuffled, she pre- 
varicated, she did all she could to avoid 
mentioning your name. I would go back 
to her, and ask her again, onlv that I 



164 GRACE'S VISIT. 

know she would still persevere in the 
same declaration. No, Grace, I am very 
sorry, I grieve to say it, but I fear that 
you have been, that you still are deceiv- 
ing me." 

Grace had ceased crying ; she now sat 
silently, her head bent down, her eye- 
lashes drooping. She was again pray- 
ing for strength and guidance. 

' ' If you will confess your fault, I will 
even now forgive you," continued the 
general in a milder tone. ''There is 
nothing in my eyes so despicable as de- 
ceit, and depend upon it, it always de- 
feats its own purpose. Do you hear me, 
Grace?" 

"Yes, grandpapa." 

'' Then why do you not answer?" 

*'I don't know what to say, grand- 
papa ; I have told you the truth." 

The general rose hastily, pushed aside 
his chair, and said, " You had better go 



CHlACE'r^ VISIT. 105 

to your room I'or a quarter of an iiour. 
and consider what truth is. At the end 
of that time, you can return to me." 

G race obeyed ; and during her ab- 
sence, the general, in uneasy thouglit, 
paced up and down the room. lie fully 
believed that she was guilty ; no suspi- 
cion crossed his mind concerning Julia, 
and it seemed to him perfectly incredible 
thatTotty Barnes should, on such a mat- 
ter, have told him a falsehood. 

The quarter of an hour had only just 
expired, when Grace reappeared. The 
general looked closely at her, expecting 
to read in her countenance the traces of 
guilt. But even he, whose eyes were 
prejudiced, was obliged to own himself 
mistaken. Her face was troubled in- 
deed ; it still bore the traces of tears ; 
but above the tears, above the trouble, 
rose an expression which told of inward 
calm. 



IGG GEACE'S VISIT. 

The general did not knovf what it was 
to feel the deep heart-peace which Jesus 
gives to his beloved ; but he was well 
acquainted with the serene happiness 
which springs from a quiet conscience, 
and as he looked at Grace, he felt half 
inclined to change his mind and believe 
her innocent. But the strong and abun- 
dant proof to the contrary recurred to 
his memory, and his opinion remained 
unshaken. 

"Well, Grace ?" he said, when he had 
again caused her to seat herself opposite 
to him. 

"I can only say w^hat I said before, 
grandpapa. I am not deceiving you.'' 

''And this is your ultimate answer?" 

"Yes." 

"Yery well, I am sorry to hear it. 
In a court of justice the custom is to be- 
lieve every man innocent until he is 
proved to be guilty. Now, in my mind 



GRACE 'kS visit. 1G7 

3'ou have been proved to be guilty : but 
perhaps some might judge otherwise; 
and in consideration of this absence of 
positive certainty, I will not deal with 
you as I should feel it my duty to deal 
with you were the fact more clearly 
established. I shall still allow you to 
associate with your cousins, to take your 
meals with us, and in short, remain with 
us on an equal footing as before. * But 
at the same time you must remember 
that this is only on sufferance. I can- 
not treat you, I cannot feel towards you 
as I have hitherto done. My esteem, my 
affection, you must consider forfeited." 

Grace's tears now flowed afresh. To 
hear her grandpapa, generally so kind, 
so indulgent, speak to her in this cold, 
unrelenting manner, seemed almost more 
than she could bear. But her tears had 
no effect upon General Courtenay. He 
considered it, under the circumstances. 



1G8 GRACE'S VISIT. 

liis duty to make her feel as bitterly as 
possible the unhappy consequences of 
her guilt. "Now you can go," he said, 
" and send Julia to me.'' 

Grace obeyed ; and as she was about 
to leave the room, he observed, "At any 
other time, I should think myself obliged 
to write to your mother, and give her a 
full account of this affair ; but I cannot 
bring myself just now to add this trouble 
to her other anxiety." 

Grace thanked him earnestly for his 
kind consideration, though the heaviness 
of her trial was much increased by the 
feeling that she was even debarred from 
the sympathy of her mother. But Grace 
was far too unselfish to think of this. 

She found Julia, gave her the general's 
message ; then once more retiring to her 
room, sought comfort in communion with 
God. 



GKACE'S VISIT. IGO 



CHAPTER XII. 

' ' Be stroug to bear, Oh heart, 
Nothing is vain. 
Strive not, for life is care, 

And God sends pain. 
Heaven is above, and there 
Rest wdll remain." 

Sloavly, sorrowfully for Grace, did 
the gloomy moiitli of November pass 
away. Her aunt at Paris, tlioiigli con- 
siderably better, was not yet out of dan- 
ger, and she did not know Iiow long a 
time might elapse before her mother's 
return. 

Meanwhile the stigma of disgrace 
weighed heavily upon the poor girl's 
mind. Throughout the month the gen- 
eral's manner to her was unaltered, ex- 
cepting perhaps it grew still colder, still 
more distant, as weeks rolled by. She 
could see that all his trust in her was 



170 GEACE'S VISIT. 

gone. He never asked her to do any 
thing for him. He never spoke to her 
indeed, when it was not absolutely nec- 
essary. If, miasked, she offered him 
any little service — if she placed his stool 
for him, or wheeled his favorite chair 
nearer the fire — he thanked her, it is 
true, but as he might thank a mere stran- 
ger. Sometimes — and this was harder 
than all to Glrace — he would enter the 
room, and if she were at the other end 
of it, his short sight would lead him to 
mistake her for Julia ; under this delu- 
sion he would begin to speak to her, 
perhaps charge her with some little com- 
mission ; but in a few moments, discov- 
ering his error, his tone and manner 
would instantly change; he would stop 
short in his speech with, "I beg your 
pardon, I took you for Julia,'' and dis- 
appear in search of her cousin. It was 
at such times that she especially felt the 



GRACE'S VISIT. 171 

bitterness of tlie reproacli that rested 
upon her. 

Hector, on the very first day of her 
disgrace, hadliad an altercation with his 
grandfather concerning it. He refused 
to believe Grace guilty, declaring there 
must be some "foul play," and indeed 
did great harm to her cause with the 
general by his impetuosity. Finally, 
perceiving that notliing lie could say 
had any effect in changing the general's 
opinion, he resolved to keep silence on 
the subject until such time as he should 
be able to discover some proof of her 
innocence. Unknown to any one except 
Eose, he went to farmer Barnes' house, 
and had an interview with Totty. But 
he was unable, as he expressed it, to 
" get any thing out of her," although his 
doubts concerning her truth were con- 
firmed by her suspicious manner. How- 
ever, he made a discovery which he 



172 GRACE'S VISIT. 

hoped miglit one day be useful to him. 
This was, that Totty's aunt had left the 
farm only a few minutes after the time 
at which Totty professed *to have seen 
Grace. This aunt was to return in De- 
cember, and to spend her Christmas at 
Aberford, and Hector had great hopes 
that one interview with her would go far 
towards righting his cousin. 

In his own mind Hector had a secret 
suspicion which, although he disliked the 
thought of it, augmented daily. He had 
sometimes before seen Julia in company 
with Totty, and he now noticed that Ju- 
lia, since Grace had been in trouble, had 
lost much of her vivacity, and that her 
gayety seemed forced. She was growing 
subject to long fits of abstraction, from 
which she would awake with a start. If 
at any time the general summoned her 
to his study, she would turn pale, and 
her face would bear an alarmed expres- 



GRACE'S VISIT. 173 

81011, as though there were something to 
be dreaded. She seemed as far as pos- 
sible to avoid Grace, and to be uneasy 
when in her company. All these things 
Hector observed, and drew his own in- 
ferences ; but he said nothing of them to 
any one as yet. 

Eose was now more than ever a bless- 
ing to Grace, and the cousins grew daily 
dearer to each other. No transient 
doubt, no fear of evil, arose in the child's 
mind to shake her full confidence in 
Grace. She was naturally of a trusting 
disposition, and in this instance she 
would sooner have suspected her own 
existence, than that Grace could be ca- 
pable of deceit. Her loving words and 
manners, her caressing little ways, fell 
on Grace's sorrowful heart like balm. 

Nevertheless her trial would have 
been almost too hard for her to bear, 
had she not been supported by strength 



174 GRACE'S VISIT. 

and grace from above. During this 
month Grrace was much in prayer. She 
felt that God was ordering all things for 
the best. She knew that the course she 
was pursuing was the right. ''If," says 
St. Peter, ''when ye do well and suffer 
for it, ye take it patiently, this is ac- 
ceptable with God." She trusted in him 
to uphold her in it, and to keep her firm 
to the end. She trusted in him also to 
declare her innocence and to restore her 
to favor in his own good time. 

It was not without many struggles 
that Grace attained this spirit of patient 
confidence in God, and especially found 
it hard to subdue resentful feelings tow- 
ards Julia. 

The first day of her disgrace Julia said 
to her, with the intent still further to 
cover her own guilt, " Well, Grace, 
where are your fine sermons about my 
going to Totty now ?" 



GRACE'S VISIT. 175 

Grace turned round with (lashing 
eyes, and was on the point of breaking 
out in terms of angry condemnation, 
when, suddenly remembering herself, 
she subdued the passionate feeling, and 
as soon as possible retreating to her own 
little dressing-room, redoubled her en- 
treaties for divine guidance and assist- 
ance. Could she doubt that she was 
heard, Avhen, after her prayer, she found 
it so much more easy to be meek and 
quiet, so much more easy to resist the 
temptation to be angry ? 

The fifth, sixth, and seventh verses of 
the thirty-seventh Psalm were continu- 
ally in her mind, the fifth especially; 
and she now more than ever loved to 
read the accounts of our Saviour's meek- 
ness and gentleness, even when at one 
word he could have brought to destruc- 
tion all those who persecuted and reviled 
him. 



17G GRACE'S VISIT. 

She never forgot to pray for Julia and 
Totty; and this, more effectually than 
any thing else, served to dispel all wrong 
feelings towards them. 

But yet there were times when Grace 
felt utterly wretched, when all hope and 
courage seemed gone, and she cried in 
her misery, ''Oh, why, why does not 
God help me ? Why does he let me 
suffer when I am innocent ?" 

But it seemed to her that always after 
one of these dark intervals, some little 
alleviating circumstance occurred; either 
Hector spoke very kindly to her, or Rose 
showed more than usual sympathy, or 
an especially affectionate letter reached 
her from her mother. Thus in all she 
recognized the hand of her heavenly Fa- 
ther upon her, and in the midst of cloud 
and darkness could still trust and wait 
for sunshine and light to return. 

Meanwhile Julia, the onlv one besides 



GKACE'S VISIT. 177 

Grace who knew the truth, watched her 
conduct with an ever increasing respect. 
Sometimes unawares would steal in the 
w^ish, "Oh that I myself were like her ;" 
and sometimes, overcome with remorse, 
she was on the point of confessing all, 
but could not summon resolution to meet 
the subsequent disgrace. She grew more 
miserable every day ; a kind w^ord from 
her grandfather or from Grace seemed 
often almost insupportable. She had re- 
turned the novel by post ; the transient 
pleasure derived from it was over, and 
only the long train of deceit and self- 
reproach remained, to mar her peace by 
night and by day, and to imbitter her 
every pleasure. 



23 



L78 GEACE'S VISIT. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

"Christ leads me to no darker rooms 

Than he went through before ; 
He that unto God's kingdom comes, 

Must enter by this door. 
My knowledge of that life is small, 

The eye of faith is dim, 
But 'tis enough that Christ knows all. 

And I shall be with him. " baxter. 

As November waned, Rose became so 
much worse, that Greneral Courtenay sent 
for an eminent physician from London, 
to hold a consultation concerning her 
with the medical man of the family. On 
the day appointed for the two doctors to 
meet. Hector did not go to his tutor's as 
usual, but joined Grace and Julia in the 
school-room. There they waited, while 
the hushed stillness of the house, only 
now and then broken by a footstep or 
by the closing of a door, denoted that 
Bome thing unusual was taking place. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 179 

More than two hours passed away, 
when a carriage rolled up to the door. 
The doctors issued from the house, step- 
ped into it, and drove away together; 
and the little party in the school-room 
knew that Eose's fate was, humanly 
speaking, decided. They remained in 
breathless suspense, not one of them 
daring to go to inquire the result which 
each felt anxious to hear. At length the 
general's step was heard in the passage ; 
he entered, vainly strove to speak, but 
utterance failed him. One glance at his 
face sufficed to reveal the truth. Eose's 
brief term of this life was measured. 

The general recovered his self-pos- 
session, and in few words told his grand- 
children all. Her constitution was worn 
out, the disease was in the ascendant, 
creeping steadily on day by day. The 
pains might be much alleviated, the fever 
in great degree diminished, the feeble 



180 GRACE'S VISIT. 

life a little while prolonged by stimulat- 
ing medicine, by tender nursing and 
care. But tlie time was fast drawing on 
when all such mitigations would avail 
nothing. For death there is no earthly 
remedy, and Rose must die. 

As the fatal sentence fell from the 
general's lips, a sudden gleam of sun- 
shine broke through the window and 
illuminated the room. Certain heavy 
clouds, which had before obscured the 
horizon, now seemed to be dispersing ; 
while the sun, like a ball of living fire, 
was sinking to his rest. Was there 
aught of a fair token in the change — 
aught that heralded to Rose a joyful 
deliverance from fitful storms and troub- 
led skies,:-to glory everlasting and un- 
speakable ? 

A fortnight had flown by since the 
consultation. It was Sunday evening, 
the thirteenth day of December. The 



GRACE'S VPSIT. 181 

fire ill Rosens room was burning low, 
and only one dim candle was lighted. 
She lay propped up with pillows in her 
bed, a happy expression on her face, 
her large bright eyes turned towards 
Grace, who was sitting beside the fire. 

The book was in Grace's hands ; she 
was about to read, when the door open- 
ed gently, and Hector entered. He said 
nothing, but merely knelt down by Rose's 
side, and Grace, in a low, clear voice, 
began her reading. 

"Now before the feast of the passover, 
when Jesus knew that his hour was come 
that he should depart out of this world 
unto the Father, having loved his own 
which were in the world, he loved them 
unto the end. 

"And supper being ended, the devil 
having now put into the heart of Judas 
Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray him ; 
Jesus knowino- that the Father had 



182 GRACE'S VISIT. 

given all things into his hands, and that 
he was come from God, and went to 
God ; he riseth from snpper — " 

" Grace," said the sick girl, ''will you 
stop there for a minute ? I want to re- 
alize it. I want to realize 'He loved 
them unto the end.' I want to realize 
that I am going to him, to that same 
Jesus." 

Grace stopped ; she could scarcely 
refrain from crying : Hector maintained 
an unbroken silence. 

" Grace, Grace, will he love me to the 
end ? Will he take me up too where he 
has gone — to God ?" 

" Grace just managed to answer, "Yes, 
darling, you know he will ;" but she could 
say no more, for her voice seemed chok- 
ed with tears. 

"I cannot, cannot imagine it," said 
Eose; "to see Him, to hear his voice; 
the very same Jesus to whom we pray, 



GllACE'S VISIT. 183 

of whom we read in the Bible — the very 
same : Oh how I wish I eould understand 
it." 

But here Hector broke out passion- 
ately, "Hush, Rose, you must not talk 
so ; you must not speak of dying. I can- 
not bear it." 

"Dear Hector,'^ said the child, ex- 
tending her hand towards him : but he 
took no notice of her ; his head was bur- 
ied in his arms, and his frame was now 
convulsed Avith heavy sobs. 

For some time Rose lay quite silent, 
feeling herself powerless to soothe him ; 
but presently she said, "Hector, wont 
you listen to me ? I want to speak to 
you." 

He made no answer ; and finding all 
was quiet, she continued : 

" Hector, I want you to think when I 
am gone that I am happy and at rest. 
It does not seem all clear to me vet: I 



181 GKACE'S ViyiT. 

do n't quite feel to know where it is that 
I am going ; but I do know one thing — 
that I shall be with Jesus. 

''Sometimes, when I try to look for- 
ward to that world, and to fancy what 
it is like, I feel bewildered and almost 
frightened, it seems all so far off, so mys- 
terious ; but then I look to Jesus, and" 
try to lean my heart on him, and re- 
member his promise to be with me and 
never to forsake me, and all grows bright 
again. 

" Hector, I can trust myself with him. 
I can trust him to take care of me ; and 
I want you so much to love him too, and 
to go to him for comfort. I lie here, 
Hector, and pray, and pray that you 
may, and ask him to be far more to you 
than I could ever be. He has been to 
me sweeter than any words could tell 
you ; and though I am only a little weak 
girl, and you are so strong and bright, 



GRACE'S VISIT. 185 

yet we both want happiness alike, and 
we can only find it in him. 

'' Oh, Hector, if any thing can add to 
my happiness, I think it will be the 
knowledge that you have learned to love 
Jesus, and to look up to heaven for your 
refreshment as you go through this weary 
world. 

''I shall always love you, Hector, 
even more then than now ; for then my 
love will be like the love of the pure 
angels, without one spot or stain of earth 
to make it less true or sweet. And I 
shall watch for you to come to me ; I 
shall look to see if you are drawing daily 
nearer ; and when you come, I shall run 
out to meet you — I shall be, Oh, so glad." 

She ceased, exhausted, and sank back 

upon her pillows ; but the light that 

brightened her eyes was not of this 

world. She had been raised beyond 

herself as she spoke, up to the very 
24 



ISG GEACE'S VISIT. 

gates of tlie City. All her reserve and 
timidity seemed passed away, and in 
their place already divine love and joy 
were dawning. 

A long time Hector remained upon 
his knees, thinking over all that she had 
said, and perhaps asking for himself that 
blessing which she craved for him so 
earnestly. Eising at last, he clasped 
her to his heart with one long, quiver- 
ing sigh, as if some one were rending a 
part of his very life away from him ; 
then laying her down again, without a 
word he abruptly left the room. 

A few quiet tears rolled down Eose's 
face ; but silently wiping them away, she 
begged Grace to continue reading, and 
Grrace read all through the last records 
of our Saviour's death and glorious res- 
urrection. 



GKACE'S VISIT. 187 



CHAPTER XIY. 

"Cometh sunshine after rain, 
After mourning, joy again ; 
After heavy, bitter grief 
Dawneth surely sweet relief." 

LTRA GERMANICA. 

The next day, as Hector, on liis way 
to liis tutor's, was passing farmer Barnes' 
Louse, lie observed a figure which he 
thought ho knew moving about in the 
garden. For some time, however, he 
could not remember where he had seen 
it before, until at length, as he walked 
on, it flashed upon him that it was that 
of Totty's aunt. 

lie had by no means forgotten his 
resolution to visit her, and as after his 
morning's work he was returning home to 
luncheon, he stopped at the farm-house, 
and for nearly half an hour was closeted 
with Mrs. Newbury. When he at last 



188 GRACE'S VISIT. 

entered the dining-room, luncheon was 
nearly over ; his countenance bore an 
expression of mingled pain and satisfac- 
tion, and during the meal Julia remark- 
ed that he frequently raised his eyes from 
his plate, to turn them towards the win- 
dow which faced the park. 

General Courtenay had gone to his 
study, and was engaged in writing a let- 
ter, when the butler made his appear- 
ance, announcing that a person wished 
to speak with his master. 

"Show the person in here then," re- 
plied the general. 

The butler withdrew, and returned in 
company with a stout middle-aged wom- 
an of homely appearance, whose counte- 
nance bore the evident marks of distress. 
She dropped a low courtesy as she en- 
tered, and her hand trembled percepti- 
bly as, on the general's desiring her to 
sit down, she drew a chair towards her. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 180 

"I think I know your face,'' said (lie 
general, observing that she seemed to 
find some difBculty in introducing tlie 
object of lier visit. 

"Yes, sir," replied the v/oman, "I 
dare say joii do. My name is New- 
bury, sir, Anne Newbury ; and I 'm the 
sister of John Barnes, who rents the lit- 
tle farm in your park.'' 

"Oh indeed,'' said the general, his 
tone insensibly colder as the name of 
Barnes was mentioned. 

" I 've come to you on a very painful 
subject, sir," continued the woman ner- 
vously; "but Mr. Hector called to see 
me this morning, and — " 

"Hector, my grandson?" exclaimed 
the general. 

"Aye, sir. He wanted to ask me 
something about my niece. I think, sir, 
that a young lady. Miss Grace Courte- 
nay, is staying witJi you now." 



laO GKACE'S VISIT. 

"She is.'' 

''And, sir, if I maybe bold enough to 
say such a thing, I believe she 's out of 
favor with you on account of Totty, my 
niece." 

The general had now assumed an atti- 
tude of deep attention ; but he made no 
reply, and the woman continued : 

'' Well, sir, if you '11 alloAV me, I think 
I can get that young lady out of trouble, 
though I 'm afraid it will go far towards 
getting another young lady m; but jus- 
tice must be done, as Mr. Hector said 
this morning ; and, sir, I think I 'd bet- 
ter make a clean breast of it, and tell 
you the whole story. 

"Well, sir, about two months agone, 
I came to Aberford to see my brother ; 
I stayed some time with him, and the 
twenty-fifth of October was the day that 
I went back to my home." 

"The twentv-fifth of October," in- 



GRACE'S VISIT. 191 

warclly mused the gonorul ; "thai, i re- 
member, was tlic very day when I dis- 
covered Grace's deceit." 

" It was somewhere between half after 
two and three o'clock, sir, that I was up 
in my bedroom, getting ready to go. 
The horse was just being put in the gig, 
and my box was locked and corded ; and 
my brother, he Avas going with me to the 
station, and Totty was to stay at home 
the while and take care of the house. I 
was standing at the vfindow, when what 
should I see but Totty below in the gar- 
den, a talking to a young lady over the 
palings. 

'' Thinks I to myself, 'Why, sure that's 
one of the general's young ladies,' for 
I'd often seen your family, sir, at church, 
or passing by in the park, and I wonders 
what might bring the young lady here, a 
talking to my niece; so, as the window 
were wide open, I looked out still keen- 



192 GRACE'S VISIT. 

er, and ilieii I saw tliat it was Miss 
Julia." 

"Miss Julia!" The general turned 
deadly pale, and grasped the arm of his 
chair, but made a motion to Mrs. New- 
bury to continue her narration. 

" Yes, sir, it were Miss Julia, and I 
grieve to have to say it, both for my 
niece's sake and hers. I saw her face 
quite plain, and my niece took out a 
book and handed to her, and then she 
gave my niece some money from her 
purse, and says, 'Well, good-by, Totty/ 
and my niece says, 'Good-by, Miss Ju- 
lia ;' and off she shot like a twinkling. 

"When my niece came in, I ques- 
tioned her as to what she had been doing 
with Miss Courtenay ; and she answered 
me quite pertly, as I'm sorry to say's 
her custom, ' Oh, Miss Julia often comes 
to pay me a visit ; we 're capital friends, 
v/e are.' So then I asked her about the 



GRACE'S VISIT. 103 

book and the money, and she colored up 
red, and muttered something that I didn't 
well take in. But just then my brother 
called me in a hurry, and said we should 
lose the train; so I was forced to go, 
though I thought there must be some- 
thing wrong somewhere, and that I 'd 
see to it when I came back to Aber- 
ford. 

''Well, sir, this morning Mr. Hector 
come to the house, and asked to see me. 
I was surprised, as you may fancy ; but 
I took him into the best parlor, and then 
he out with it, and told me all what had 
happened the very day I left. And he 
said he had reason to think my niece was 
playing Miss Grace foul; and could I 
enlighten him ?" 

The poor woman's tears flowed fast as 
she continued : 

''Ah, sir, it's a hard thing to see a 
motherless bairn, and that your own kith 

Grace's Visit. 25 



194 GKACE'S VISIT. 

and kin too, as you 'd nursed upon your 
knee, turning out so bold and evil, and 
so ready in ways of lying and cunning. 
Yes, sir, it 's a hard and grievous thing, 
but it 's what I sees in Totty ; and when 
I called her in this morning, and charged 
her with the truth before Mr. Hector, 
she laughed in my face. And seeing she 
could n't anyhow conceal it, she confess- 
ed to having told all them falsehoods, 
and got an innocent young lady into such 
trouble, as easy as she 'd confess to hav- 
ing eaten her dinner yesterday. 

" 'But Miss Julia was as bad as me,^ 
she says, 'for she came to see me against 
her grandpa's word, because she wanted 
the second volume of a book as I'd got 
for her from the town library. She paid 
me for getting her books,' she says, 'and 
I 've got her, on and off, more than a 
score. She used often to come and meet 
me in the park, and one day she brought 



GRACE'S VISIT. 195 

Miss Grace. But Miss Grace was too 
proud to come again, and that 's one rea- 
son why I didn't count it much harm to 
spite her by telling the general it was 
her that he saw with me.' 

" Well, sir, you must be tired of hear- 
ing me talk, so I'll just finish up my 
story as fast as I can. Mr. Hector asked 
me, sir, if I would oblige him by coming 
up here, and telling you all the truth. 
In course I couldn't refuse him, and this 
is why I have made bold to trouble you 
with a visit. 

"When Mr. Hector was gone, I had 
a talk alone with Totty, and then she 
seemed more ashamed of herself, and I 
brought the tears to her eyes. I asked 
her, had Miss Julia and she agreed be- 
forehand to accuse Miss Grace, if any 
question was made about the matter. 
She said, No ; but after you had been to 
the farm, she had sent off the yard boy, 



196 GKACE'S VISIT. 

as is a very quick runner, with a note, 
to tell Miss Julia what she had done. 
She told him to look sharp, and see if he 
could get to the house before you, sir ; 
and he being but a dull lad, and thought- 
less into the bargain, never suspected 
any thing, but ran fast and delivered the 
note. 

"And now, sir, I have nothing more 
to say, except to make you my humble 
apologies, and to tell you how grieved 
I am that any niece of mine should be 
mixed up with this business. My broth- 
er feels it sadly, sir ; he 'd never have 
thought it of Totty. But we 've agreed 
now that I shall take her away to live 
with me for a few years, and get her out 
of her bad habits, if I can. And my 
eldest daughter, who's a young woman 
now, and very steady and prudent, is 
coming in Totty 's place, to keep house 
for my brother. So, sir, you wont be 



GRACE S VISIT. 197 

troubled with her no more, until, as I 
hope, by tlie blessing of God, she 's 
grown a better girl." 

The general heaved a deep sigh, almost 
a groan, and rose up from his seat. 

"You have done quite right, Mrs. 
Newbury," he said in a hollow, subdued 
voice, "and I respect your frankness in 
coming to me at once with this clear and 
candid statement. I will ask you one 
question before you go. Do you re- 
member whether the young lady whom 
you saw with your niece wore a veil?" 

"A veil, sir? Yes, she did, for I 
recollect noticing it flapping about in the 
wind." 

"Should you recognize it if you saw 
it now ?" 

"As likely as not, sir. I remember 
the color was brown." 

The general rang the bell, and sent 
for Grace. She soon appeared, and he 



198 GRACE'S VISIT. 

desired lier to bring the veil which he 
had found upon the tree. 

Mrs. Newbury recognized it at once, 
in spite of its tattered condition; and 
thus the last proof of Grace's innocence 
was established. 

The door had scarcely closed upon the 
woman when the general turned to Grace, 
whom he had prevented from quitting 
the room, and extended his arms tow- 
ards her. 

She, in mingled timidity and astonish- 
ment, glanced at his face. One look was 
sufficient to reassure her, and the next 
moment the general was holding her in 
an embrace which told of perfect recon- 
ciliation. 

''Grace," he said huskily, "I doubt 
jonr innocence no longer. But you must 
forgive your old grandfather ; he acted 
for the best." 

Then, seatino; himself once more in 




h V ^\ NT- ■^ '^ 



GRACE'S VISIT. 199 

his arin-cliair, and drawing licr to stand 
beside him, he gave her a full account of 
all that had passed between himself and 
Mrs. Newbury. 

"But you do not seem surprised, my 
child, at your cousin Julia's behavior. 
As for me, it seems to have stunned me. 
I cannot yet believe it. Surely you 
knew nothing of it before." 

Grace colored and looked down ; but 
as the general pressed her, and insisted 
upon her telling him all the truth, she 
confessed at length to having found the 
note in the school-room. 

''And you destroyed it ! You kept it 
to yourself all this time ! Well, perhaps 
this was in itself wrong. Truth should 
not be concealed, and dissimulation is to 
be shunned. But yet you are a noble- 
minded girl. How strange that you were 
able to persist in such conduct for so long 
a time. But," continued the general 



200 GRACE'S VISIT. 

sadly, "why is there such a difference? 
Why is not Julia like you ? I have en- 
deavored, I have done my best to bring 
her up as she should be. But I suppose 
I have not the capability." 

He bowed his head upon his hands for 
some moments, and was lost in sorrow- 
ful thought. Ah, he was experiencing 
now something of the dryness and w*ea- 
riness of spirit which results from put- 
ting our full trust in earthly means, and 
forgetting the Lord our God. His con- 
stant object being to draw us nearer to 
himself, he will not bless nor cause to 
prosper that which we do in any strength 
but his. He will have us in all our ways 
to acknowledge him, and he then will 
direct our paths. 

''Grace, my child," said the general, 
raising his head at last, ' ' it shall now be 
my constant care to indemnify you for 
all the suffering of the last six weeks. 



GllACE'S VISIT. 201 

They are over and gone, I am thankful 
to say ; and it only remains for me to 
make you forget them." 

The general dismissed Grace, and call- 
ed for Julia. She came ; and as one look 
had served to assure Grace of her res- 
toration to favor, so one look was enough 
to convince Julia that all was at last dis- 
covered. Overcome with shame and 
fear, she stood half-bent and silent, feel- 
ing as though she should never dare to 
lift up her head again. She ventured 
not one word in her own defence, as the 
general set all that she had done before 
her ; only, when he told her that Grace 
had the whole time been aware of her 
guilt, she burst into a passion of tears. 

The general did not detain her long ; 
he said no angry word to her, he seemed 
too sick at heart /or that. He merely 
ordered her to her own apartment, and 
told her that he should wish her to re- 

26 



202 GRACE'S VISIT. 

main there until he had resolved on the 
best course to pursue. She crept tow- 
ards the door, not daring to speak ; and 
as she reached it, the general said, in a 
v«ice more bitter to her than any re- 
proach could be, ''Julia, rather than 
that you should have acted so, I would 
that you were lying now where your sis- 
ter is — upon the bed of death.'' 

These words still sounding in her ears, 
Julia retreated to her room. 




GRACE'S VISIT. 203 



CHAPTER XV. 

"First seek thy Saviour out, and :l\veU 
Under the shadow of his roof, 
Till thou have scanned his features well, 
And known him for the Christ by proof : 

"Such proof as they are sure to find, 

Who spend with him their willing days, 
Clean hands, and a self-ruling mind. 
Ever in tune for prayer and praise. 

'* Then, potent with the sjDell of heaven. 
Go, and thine erring brother gain ; 
Entice him home to be forgiven. 
Till he too see his Saviour plain." 

TTPBTP., 

The general speedily resolved upon 
liis plan of action. Ordering his horse, 
he started at once for the house of a 
friend who was in want of a governess, 
taking with him the testimonials which 
he had received in favor of the lady al- 
ready engaged for Julia. On returning 
home, he wrote a letter for the post, and 
then once more summoning Julia, he told 



204 GKACE'S VISIT. 

her that his decision was formed. He 
had written to a lady, a clergyman's wife, 
of whom he had heard much praise, and 
who took a few young girls to educate 
with her own daughters. He had asked 
this lady, aware that she had lately lost 
a pupil, to receive Julia at once into her 
establishment. The governess whom he 
had already engaged he had strongly 
recommended to another person, and 
thus she would not be disappointed in 
her hope of a situation. Until the cler- 
gyman's wife was able to receive Julia, 
she was to live entirely between her own 
room and the school-room, apart from 
the rest of the family. 

Julia heard her sentence without dar- 
ing to remonstrate ; but as her grandfa- 
ther finished speaking she ventured to 
creep somewhat nearer to him, and to 
murmur, ''Grandpapa, will you forgive 
me?" 



GRACE'S VISIT. 205 

"I have forgiven you already, Julia," 
replied General Courtenay, ''but it will 
be long before you can recover your 
place in my confidence and esteem." 

Julia stood still for a few minutes ; 
then finding that nothing more was said 
to her, she slowly left the room. 

She went up stairs, and throwing her- 
self upon her bed, buried her face in the 
pillows, and resigned herself to her mis- 
ery. It seemed to her then that she 
could never again be happy. 

Presently she heard a light footstep 
enter the room and approach the bed. 
The next moment Grace's arm was 
round her, and her voice was asking 
her to look up, to try and not be so 
wretched. 

For some time Julia took no notice of 
her cousin, but at last she said, in a 
smothered tone, "Oh, Grace, don't speak 
to me. I do n't deserve it. You, whom 



206 GRACE'S VISIT. 

I have treated so, can you be so kind 
to me?" 

"Dear Julia, please do not say that ; 
only look up and do not cry so much. 
You will make yourself quite ill." 

Julia raised herself into a sitting pos- 
ture. Her eyes were swollen and red 
with weeping, her cheeks were flushed, 
and her thick black hair was falling in 
disorder over her face. 

"Oh, Grace," she cried, "and you 
knew it all the time. You knew what I 
had done all those long weeks when grand- 
papa was so angry with you. And you 
never spoke of it, you never even men- 
tioned it to me. You bore every thing 
so patiently, and never answered me 
when I was cross to you. I do n't know 
any one else who could have behaved 
as you have. Grace, I have sometimes 
laughed at you for being so religious. I 
have thought it cant, and even liypoeri- 



GRACE'8 VISIT. 207 

sy ; but now, now I see differently. You 
Lave made me love you and wish to Le 
religious. It must be something very 
great and true and noble which could 
enable you to act as you have acted. 
Oh, Grace, I wish you would teach it 
to me." 

''Jesus can teach you, dear Julia," 
said Grace. " Pray to him, and ask him 
to teach you, and I am sure he will." 

"But I dare not now," said Julia, 
" now when I have been so wicked.'^ 

"That is one chief reason why you 
should," replied Grace. "If you will 
only ask him, he will take all your sins 
away. ' Though your sins be as scarlet, 
they shall be white as snow.^ Those are 
the words of Scripture. Ask him by the 
power of the Spirit to convince you in- 
creasingly of your sinfulness, and beg 
for that pardon which he gives through 
the shedding of his precious blood." 



208 GRACE'S VISIT. 

"I cannot ask him. I don't know 
how," said Julia. ''G-race, will you ask 
him for me?" 

" Do you mean at once?" asked Grace ; 
and on Julia answering in the affirma- 
tive, the two girls knelt doAvn together, 
and G-race, in a few simple, but earnest 
words, commended her cousin to the 
Lord. 

As they rose from their knees, Julia 
threw her arms around Grace, and with 
many tears implored her forgiveness. 
Grace assured her that this had been 
long ago accorded her. She stayed a 
short time, further endeavoring to soothe 
her ; and then finding that her cousin 
was growing more composed, she left her 
alone. 

Grace could scarcely believe that her 
trouble was really ended ; that her inno- 
cence was brought to light, and her- 
self once more installed in her grandfa- 



GRACE'S VISIT. 200 

tlicr's favor. The time of licr trial, 
now that she could look back upon it, 
seemed like a short, painful dream ; but 
she felt that it had been wonderfully 
blessed and overruled for good. Had 
not this suspicion fallen upon her, 
Julia might never have been brought 
to seek the privilege of being a child of 
God, nor to loug after Him who ever 
waits to pardon and bless all contrite 
hearts. 

And some results Grace's trial had 
which she herself did not see. The grief 
and desolation through which she had 
passed had acted upon her like a refin- 
ing fire, helping to purify and ennoble 
her soul, and to draw it nearer heaven. 
She had learned now, for herself, how 
vain and mutable is our short, human 
life ; how quickly in this fleeting world 
we may pass from joy to grief; how 
easily, sometimes by no fault of our own, 

Grace's Visit. 2t 



210 GRACE'S VISIT. 

our reputations may fall ; how, in short, 
the only sure rest for our souls is that 
which is founded in God through Christ 
Jesus. 

And now Grace prayed that she might 
cling to him more closely than she had 
ever done before ; and she asked that in 
her joy, as in her sorrow, she might still 
be found striving to make each event that 
befell her a help in the way which leads 
at last to his presence. 

The dying bed of Rose was softened 
by the thought that her beloved Grace 
was once more happy. She wept when 
she heard of Julia's evil conduct; but 
soon, looking up, smiled through her 
tears. ''I had almost forgotten Jesus. 
I must tell him all about it. He will for- 
give Julia, and make her good." 

And in that sweet confidence the 
child rested, feeling content to leave 
this trouble, as she felt content to leave 



GRACE'S VISIT. 211 

every trouble now, in the hands of her 
Saviour. 

Hector's delight and admiration, >vhen 
he heard of Grace's conduct respecting 
tlie note, was unbounded; but, as his 
fashion was, he kept his feelings very 
much to himself, only talking the matter 
over with Eose, and agreeing that it was 
exactly what they might have expected 
from Grace ; and as with Julia, so with 
Hector, arose the involuntary thought, 
** Religion in the heart must be a noble 
thing to have such noble results." 

Thus Grace's earnest wish, her fervent 
prayer, to work for Jesus among her 
cousins at Aberford, were abundantly 
granted her, although in a way which she 
knew not, a way which she herself would 
not have chosen had it been left to her 
choice. 

But who can fLithom the mind of the 
Lord? Who can understand his ways? 



212 GRACE'S VISIT. 

Truly they "are in the sea, his paths in 
the great waters, and his footsteps are 
not known." 

Only let us be sure they all tend in 
one direction — to the glory of his name, 
and the salvation of his people. 




GllACE'S VISIT. 213 



CHAPTER XYI. 

"Mount up, immortal essence ; 
Young spirit, haste, depart ! 
And is this death ? Dread thing, 
If such thy visiting. 

How beautiful thou art." 

CAROLINE BOWLES. 

The doctors had wondered that the 
little life had lingered on so long ; but it 
was fading noAv and sinking fast, as all 
they who watched it^ saw. Christmas 
was drawing near, but it seemed not 
like Christmas time to them. They only 
remembered, when they thought of the 
season, that the passing out of the year 
was at hand. 

General Courtenay had, some months 
before, written to his son in India, and 
had told him that, if he did not come to 
England quickly, he feared he would run 
small chance of seeing Eose again. 



214 GEACE'S VISIT. 

But the Sepoy mutiny was just then 
raging, and Colonel Courtenay could not 
leave his post. Blotted and stained by 
a soldier's tears came a farewell note to 
his little daughter ; but this was all that 
he could send her, and this was the last 
that Eose heard of her father. 

Alfred had returned for his holidays, 
and the whole family were gathered to- 
gether and waiting for the messenger of 
death who was coming to take one of 
them away. 

It seemed to them, as they stood round 
her bed, that Rose had never before been 
half so dear. It seemed to them that all 
the past events of her life, the little rem- 
iniscences of her infancy and childhood, 
stood out as clearly before their eyes as 
though they had happened only yester- 
day. 

They thought of all her playful little 
tricks, her winning, baby ways, her sun- 



GRACE'S VISIT. 215 

ny smile. They thought of her, rosy, 
healthy, happy, as they had seen her 
many times, running to and fro in her 
play. They thought of her, each one for 
himself, each one with some fresh re- 
membrance, each one recalling the days 
when to look at her had been to banish 
any idea of death. 

So it must ever be. You who have 
seen the same, you who have watched 
the waning of a life that once was dear 
to you, you can tell how sorrowful- 
ly, how regretfully such reminiscences 
sprang up as your task grew daily 
shorter. And if faith in the Lord Jesus 
has given you that sure and certain hope 
of a joyful resurrection which death it- 
self cannot take away, how sweet it is to 
look up and on, and to almost realize 
that land where sin and sorrow have no 
dominion. 

It was Christmas eve : no snow had 



21G GKACE'S VISIT. 

fallen as yet, and the glorious stars shone 
bright and clear in the frosty sky. The 
Christmas bells were ringing in the dis- 
tance with a kind of mournful sweetness, 
and Eose lay back among her pillows 
and heard them dimly as in some far off 
dream. 

All earthly sounds, all earthly sights 
were growing dim to her now. Her bod- 
ily senses were failing, for it was near 
the time when her spirit should need 
them no more. 

She lay and heard the bells ring on 
until the midnight hour was j)ast; then 
striving to raise herself, she called Fer- 
rers to her side, and asked her if she 
would be so kind as to rouse the others, 
for she would like to wish them good-by. 

Ferrers hastened to do her bidding, 
and soon all were quickly aroused from 
slumber and assembled around the bed. 

The general went up to the pillow and 



GRACE'S VISIT. 217 

stood beside it; Grace next liim; and 
Alfred, with Julia, who knew that she 
would not be banished from that room, 
stood in frightened awe at the foot of the 
bed. Hector alone stood aloof leaning 
against the mantel-piece, his face hidden 
in his hand, as if he could not bear to 
look up. 

'' Grandpapa," said Eose, ''I am very 
sorry to disturb jow., but I am afraid to 
put off saying good-by any longer. Will 
you put your arms round me and kiss 
me, for I cannot raise my head.'^ 

The general bent dow^n and held her 
for several minutes clasped in a long em- 
brace. She was too weak to talk much, 
but in a few words she thanked him for 
all his kindness to her, all his care. 

''Good-by, dear grandpapa,'^ she said ; 
'*I shall see you again; I have asked 
Jesus." 

And then the general, w^eeping like a 

28 



218 GRACE'S VISIT. 

child, laid her down again, and retired 
to the other side of the bed. 

Alfred came next, then Julia ; to each 
she said a few tender words of farewell, 
and each she assured that she should see 
them again, for she had asked it of Jesus. 

Then Grace approached, and Eose 
held her tight, as if she would never let 
her go. 

''Blessed Grace,'' she said, "it is you 
w^ho have taught me, you who have shown 
me this happy way to die. I shall tell 
Jesus in a few hours — I shall tell him 
all that you have done." 

Grace's tears fell fast, but Eose's eyes 
were dry as the two friends severed 
each other's arms, to be joined no more 
in this world. Then, instead of asking 
for Hector, she called Ferrers, and bade 
farewell to her, thanking her affection- 
ately for all her nursing ; and then she 
asked if anv of the servants were there, 



GEACE'S VISIT. 2VJ 

and such as answered the call she shook 
hands with, and begged them to ask Je- 
sus to let them meet her again. 

She lay silent for a short time after 
this, for she was much exhausted ; but 
soon rallying again, she looked up and 
asked for Hector. Mechanicalh' he 
raised his head and came to the bed- 
side, and as Rose saw him, the flicker- 
ing flame of life seemed for an instant to 
revive. 

"Hector, my beloved, come to me, 
close here, and take me in your arms. 
Lay my head upon your breast ; yes, so. 
Is it comfortable to you ? Then this is 
how I will die.'' 

There was silence in the room for half 
an hour after that, until Rose asked in 
a voice still weaker than before, " Yn^IU 
any one pray?'' and then added, " Grand- 
papa, please." 

The general got a prayer-book, and 



220 GRA-CE'S VISIT. 

opening it, read the first collect he met 
with. It was that for Ascension-clay. 

"Grant, we beseech thee, Almighty 
God, that like as we do believe thine 
only-begotten Son Jesns Christ to have 
ascended into the heavens, so we may 
also in heart and mind thither ascend, 
and with him continually dwell ; who 
liveth and reigneth with thee and the 
Holy Ghost, ever one God, world with- 
out end. Amen." 

He then went on to the commenda- 
tory prayer ; and then, feeling that his 
voice was breaking, pronounced the ben- 
ediction : 

' ' The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
and the love of God, and the fellowship 
of the Holy Ghost, be with us all ever- 
more. Amen.'' 

The general ceased, but they still re- 
mained kneeling around the bed. A 
deep silence, a hallowed stillness fell 



GRACE'S VISIT. 221 

upon all the room, and so for hours they 
stayed with little change, while the child- 
ish life was fast ebbing away. 

Who can tell what beauteous sights 
she saw as the mortal veil was thus roll- 
ing from before her eyes ? Who can tell 
what sounds from the far off land made 
melody to her in that darkened cham- 
ber, which to all the rest was so still ? 

The dawn was breaking in the east, 
the dawn of Christmas morning, and the 
sky beneath which the shepherds long 
ago watched was streaked with crimson 
lines. Suddenly, below the windows, 
the village waits struck up a Christmas' 
carol. Their simple voices, joining in 
harmony, sounded sweetly in the early 
morning, and the general stopped Fer- 
rers as she was moving tow^ards the door 
with the intent to send them away. 

" Don't," he said ; "she likes it/' and 
he pointed towards the bed. 



222 GRACE'S VISIT. 

Eose was lying with one hand slightly 
raised, her ear inclined in the attitude 
of rapt attention ; and the carol-singers 
were left undisturbed as they united in 
the old Christmas hymn : 

"Christians, awake, salute the happy morn 
Whereon the Saviour of mankind was born ; 
Eise to adore the mj^stery of love, 
Which hosts of angels chanted from above : 
With them the joyful tidings first begun, 
Of God incarnate, and the Vii-gin's Son. 

"Then to the watchful shepherds it was told, 
Who heard th' angelic herald's voice, ' Behold, 
I bring good tidings of a Saviour's bu-th. 
To you, and all the nations upon earth : 
This day hath God fulfilled his promised word, 
This day is born a Saviour, Christ the Lord.' 

. "He siDoke ; and straightway tho^ celestial choir 
In hymns of joy unknown before conspire ; 
The praises of redeeming love they sang. 
And heaven's whole orb with hallelujahs rang ; 
God's highest glory was their anthem still, 
Peace upon earth, and unto men good-will. 

" To Bethlehem straight th' enlightened shepherds ran, 
To see the wonders God had wi-ought for man ; 
Then to their flocks, still praising God, return, 
And their glad hearts within their bosoms burn : 
To all the joyful tidings they proclaim, 
The first apostles of the Saviour's fame. 



GRACE'S VISIT. 223 

** Oil, may we keep and ponder in our mind 
God's wondroi!s love in saving lost mankind : 
Trace we the Babe wlio hath retrieved our loss, 
From his poor manger to his bitter cross ; 
Tread in his steps, assisted by his grace, 
Till man's first heavenly state again takes place." 

What sudden lio-lit was this breakino; 
forth upon the sick child's countenance ? 
What sudden ray illumined the eyes on 
which death's dimness had been gath- 
ering? They beheld it amazed, but no 
one spoke. Then came the last verse : 

" Then may we hope, th' angelic hosts among, 
To join redeemed a glad triumphant throng : 
He that was born upon this joyful day, 
Ai-ound us all his glory shall display ; 
Saved by his love, incessant we shall sing 
Eternal praise to heaven's almighty King." 

They saw that light die out and pass 
av^ay ; they saw the eyes close wearily. 
They saw the head, like a tired child's, 
fall back more heavily on Hector's 
shoulder. More than this they could 
not see ; they could not follow beyond 



224 GRACE'S VISIT. 

the bounds of mortality : but as the 
Christmas waits, leaving the house, re- 
treated down the avenue, still singing, 
they knew that fairer music was break- 
ing now upon the ears of that happy 
spirit. 




GRACE'S VISIT. 225 



CHAPTER XYII. 

"Went ye not forth with prayer? 
Then ye went not forth in vain ; 
'The Sower, the Son of man,' was there, 
And his was that precious grain. 
"And the harvest-home ye '11 keep, 
The summer of life ye '11 share. 
When they that sow and they that reap 
Eejoice together there." 

Aiithor of the " Three Wakings." 

The January snows lay white on Rose's 
grave when, one morning early, Grace 
stood at the school-room window, wait- 
ing for the carriage which was to take 
her away from Aberford. Her aunt in 
Paris was almost well ; her mother had 
been in England more than a week ; and 
she was to travel with the general and 
Julia, who, on their way to the estab- 
lishment where the latter was to be plac- 
ed, would pass the post-town of Grace's 
home. 

Oraoe'g VIgit. 29 



220 GRACE'S VISIT. 

To that home she could not but be 
very glad to be returning. Her heart 
could not but bound at the thought that 
the months of separation from her moth- 
er were at an end ; but, as is almost al- 
ways the case in this life, her pleasure 
was mingled with pain. She had grown 
very fond of Aberford and its inmates, 
and was grieved that she must now part 
from them. 

These varied emotions were chasing 
one another through her mind, when sud- 
denly the school-room door opened, and 
Hector entered. He was altered in 
many ways since Eose's death ; he had 
become pale and thin ; his manner also 
was more subdued, and his temper far 
less irritable. He and his grandfather 
were on much better terms than before ; 
they began now to understand each oth- 
er. The general was touched by the 
sight of the grief which Hector vainly 



GRACE'S VISIT. 227 

strove to repress. He made tlie dis- 
covery that Hector's heart was in the 
right place after all ; and Hector, always 
influenced by gentleness and affection, 
was very grateful for his grandfather's 
sympathy. 

He now came up to Grace, as she 
stood beside- the window, carrying in his 
hand a little gold locket. 

''Grrace," he said, ''will you accept 
this from me, as a small remembrance 
of — " He hurried over his sentence, he 
could not as yet bear to utter that name. 

"I have some of her hair placed in- 
side. I thought you would like it, and 
you were so kind to her. I can never 
forget that." 

Grace took the locket, and strove to 
thank him ; but she was unable to speak, 
and Hector went on, "I am very sorry 
you are going; I wish you could write 
to me sometimes. You know so much 



228 GEACE'S VISIT. 

better than I the way to that place where 
she has gone. I think if I could only get 
there— to her — " 

His voice broke down ; he stopped 
and passed his sleeve across his eyes to 
brush away the hot tears that would 
have vent. But just then the carriage 
wheels were heard, and Hector held out 
his hand. 

'' I suppose I must say good-by to you 
now," he said in his usual manner; "I 
hope I shall not be at college when 'next 
you come here. You have done me 
good, Grace, in many ways. Will you 
ask your mother if you may write ?" 

Grace promised, and then in a lower 
tone she added, '' When I pray, I shall 
often ask our Saviour to comfort and 
bless you, and that one day he vf ill unite 
you with Eose in his own home for ever." 

Hector pressed her hand again, with 
an earnest "Thank you," and Grace run 



GEACE'S VISIT. 229 

down into the liall, where the general, 
Julia, and Alfred were already assem- 
bled. A feAV moments, and the carriage 
was driving swiftly through the park. 

It is always a good plan, on saying 
farewell to a place, to ask ourselves what 
good we have gained, and what good we 
have imparted, since we entered it; to 
search our hearts and see whether we 
have drawn nearer heaven, or the re- 
verse ; and whether w^e are leaving those 
behind us in any way wiser or happier 
than )vhen we found them. 

Had Grace asked herself this ques- 
tion, she would have obtained a satisfac- 
tory answer. She was better able now 
than when she left home to battle with 
temptation, and to endure trouble and 
trial. She had learned to lean more 
upon the arm of her Saviour ; she knew 
more of his supporting power. 

And not only this, but she had been 



230 GRACE'S VISIT. 

enabled to become a help and a blessing 
to those from whom she was parting. ' 
Even her grandfather felt that her con- 
duct had impressed him, as he had never 
been impressed before, with the reality 
of ''things not seen as yet." The good 
that she had done to Hector would be an • 
abiding good ; and Julia's altered coun- 
tenance already showed that she too, in 
deep repentance, was beginning to follow 
her cousin as she followed Christ. 

And there was one who had passed 
beyond earth now, beyond the weari- 
ness, the turmoil, and the strife ; one 
who would some day shine as a star in 
her crown for ever ; one to whom Jesus 
seemed specially to have sent her as a 
messenger for him of that light which 
cheers the dreary valley of death 5 and 
that one, more than any of the others, 
had cause to bless G-race. 

The carriage rolled slowly past the 



^^ACE'S VISIT. 231 

churcli, for itVas built upon a liill, and 
Grace, leaning out, could see in the 
churchyard the tombstone that marked 
Kose's grave. She had not been buried in 
the family vault, for she had begged that 
it might be otherwise ; and so, with only 
the green grass over her, and heaven's 
own heights above, her weary body lay 
in its last long sleep, resting sweetly, to 
wake no more until the coming of the 
Lord. 

Just so may all who read this little 
volume rest. Like Grace, may they 
make it their chief aim, in Jesus, "to 
glorify God," that so at last among the 
blood-bought throng, like Eose, they may 
'* enjoy him for ever/' 



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Home Pictures. 72 pages. A fine Cut on each page. 

My Picture-hook. 64 pages. Sixty-one Engravings. 

Fireside Pictures. 64 pages. With a Cut on each 
page. 

The Illustrated Tract Primer. The ChHdren'a fAvoP 
ito. Finely Illustrated. 

Puljlislied by tiie American Tract Society, and for 
gale at tlic Tract Kouse, 150 Wassan-street, ]Ve\T 
York, by tlie Society s agents, and by booksellers. 



THE NE\\ 

REF 

This book is 
tak 


^ YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY 
ERENGE DEPARTMENT 


under no circumstances to be 
en from the Building 
























































































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