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600057638Z 






^ 




600057638Z 





She smiled gratefully when Jessie gave her the book, bnt the flowers seemed to please 
best.'— Po^^e 8. 



JESSIE'S WORK; 

OR, 

FAITHFULNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 

^ Storg for ^Ws. 



BY 

MARY E. SHIPLEY, 

AUTHOR OF "the NORTHCROFT LILIES," ** LITTLE MOLLY," ETC. 



*' She hath done what she could.' 



SEELEY, JACKSON, AND HALLIDAY, FLEET STREET, 
LONDON. MDCCCLXXIII. 



i'cf^. J 3-^7 . 



i 



CONTENTS. 



'CHAPTER TAGK 

I. ALICE I 

II. JESSIE 1 6 

III. LESSONS '. 29 

IV. THE BATH CHAIR 48 

V. PROGRESS 67 

VI. ON THE SANDS 86 

VII. TEARS 102 

VIII. HOLIDAYS .120 

IX. OLD FRIENDS . 133 

X. "a HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF " . - 153 

XL BUSINESS . . 172 

-XII. SUCCESS 189 



JESSIE'S WORK. 



CHAPTER I. 

ALICE. 

Beckford-Underhill As a quaint, old-fashioned 
little town, at the foot of the North Wolds. It is not 
in itself very pretty, although, seen at a little distance, 
its irregular, red-tiled roofs, and massive grey church- 
tower, standing out from a background of rugged hills, 
have a very picturesque effect. Approaching it from 
the Lowford Road, nearly the first house on the left 
hand is a long, two-storied, white one, with square 
windows, set rather wide apart, so that the whole 
house has the appearance of a face with a vacant 
stare ; there is a brass plate on the front door, so 
highly polished and smooth from frequent rubbings 
that only those who are not strangers can possibly 
make out the nearly illegible name, " Mr. Lawrence 

I 



2 ALICE. 

Marshall," and the word " Surgeon " under it. In a 
sunny little side room of this house, there sat, one 
April afternoon, a little girl of thirteen, working very 
diligently by Mrs. Marshall's side. There had been 
the very unusual pause of nearly five minutes without 
any conversation, but it was broken at last by Jessie, 
who, looking up quickly, said, with vehement em- 
phasis, " Oh, mamma, I do wish we were rich !" 

" What now, Jessie ? Do you want to be rich in 
order to do away with the necessity for having my 
old dresses made up for you ?*' 

" Mamma, how can you ? You know I don't mind 
that one bit ; that is, at least, when they are small- 
patterned like this one. The girls can't possibly laugh 
at this, — any one might wear it." 

"Not only a poor doctor's daughter," said Mrs. 
Marshall, smiling. 

"Mamma, I don't mean this at all. I was only 
thinking that if I had half-a-crown a week for pocket- 
money, like Marian Francis, how much good I could do. 
Jane Powell told me that Marian paid for two poor 
little girls' education, and I am sure that is doing good." 

" Certainly ; but then, you know, Jessie, there are 
other ways of doing good besides giving money : time 
and trouble and kind words and looks most of us can 
give, and I have often noticed that those who have 
little to give really do more good than those who 
have much." 



ALICE. 3 

" How do you mean, mamma ?" 

" I mean, Jessie, that self-denial, patience, and per- 
severance are better things than money ; and if the 
less we have of that to do good with the more we 
rely upon God's blessing on what we can do, we are 
more likely to succeed than if we had plenty of money 
and thought that it was the only thing needed to 
help others with. I think it is very kind of Marian 
to spend her pocket-money as she does, for I am sure 
she must go without many little things she would 
like to have ; but I am quite sure, Jessie, you have 
the power of doing just as much good, only in a dif- 
ferent way. The thing we have to do is to look out 
for opportujiities — God gives us many — and not to 
let them slip by. * She hath done what she could ' i 
high commendation." 

"But, mamma, now, wouldn't you really like to be 
better off.?" 

Mrs. Marshall laughed. 

"Well, certainly, it would lighten my cares con- 
siderably if there were less difficulty in making both 
ends meet; for six great boys take some providing 
for, to say nothing of you and baby, and everything 
else ; but, then, one can get a deal of pleasure out of 
one's numerous contrivances, and it is quite satisfaction 
enough for us when we see you all well and happy, 
and anxious to be good ; and since Lawrence won 
the scholarship, and Tom passed his medical examina- 

I — 2 



4 ALICE. 

tion so well, we have really had much less to make us 
anxious, so that, on the whole, I think we are ver>^ 
well offr 

Jessie did not reply ; she was not quite convinced, 
but she kept the subject to think over, and, as it was 
impossible for her lively tongue to be silent for any 
length of time, especially when she had a listener so 
sympathising as mamma, she soon began again on a 
different topic. " Mamma, the toy-shop was opened 
again yesterday." 

"Was it? Who told you.?'* 

" Letty, when she was laying the cloth for dinner. 
Mamma, as you go to Mrs. Howard's this afternoon, 
may I go with you, to buy Lucy's little baby-doll i^ 
all wax, you know ; at least, we might see if there 
are any at the shop." 

" What a good thing you reminded me ! I had 
quite forgotten Mrs. Howard. Yes ; run and dress 
yourself quickly, Jessie ; it is half-past three now, and 
I must be at Mrs. Howard's by four." 

In five minutes, mother and daughter were on their 
way along the street, whose side paths, paved with 
pebbles, were not very pleasant to walk upon, though 
they thought nothing about this, having been used to 
it all their lives. The street opened into a square, 
tidy little market-place, with shops of various kinds 
all round it. Just opposite the street, as Mrs. Marshall 
and Jessie left it, on the other side of the market- 



ALICE. 5 

place, was the corner shop, with "Winter" newly- 
painted in gilt letters over it. It was a funny-looking 
narrow slice of a house, with three windows one above 
another, the lowest one gay with toys and elaborate 
pieces of woolwork, partly done ; dolls of all sizes and 
shapes, and little brown pinafores half hidden behind 
labyrinths of red braid ; it was very gay altogether, 
and, inside, the glass cases of pretty things on the 
counter, and a packet of softly-shaded wools open 
upon it, looked very bright and cheerful. A tall, 
care-worn looking woman, in a widow's dress and cap, 
came forward as Mrs. Marshall and Jessie entered. 

The wax dolls were difficult to find, for Mrs. Win- 
ter, being new to the place, could not at first remem- 
ber where everything was ; and, as three other cus- 
tomers had come in, she asked the two first to walk 
into the little parlour behind the shop, while she exa- 
mined some packages there. 

At first the little room seemed very dark, and until 
Mrs. Winter said, " Alice, do you know where I put 
that packet of wax dolls?" Jessie thought it was 
empty ; but then, quite in the comer by the window 
(which, like that of the shop, was hung with toys), 
she saw a low chair, and in it a little girl, netting. 
Growing accustomed to the dim light, both Jessie and 
her mamma saw that the little girl was very much 
Jeformed, her shoulders were very high, and she was 
hump-backed; her face, though small, looked very 



6 ALICE. 

old and sickly, though she smiled as she said to her 
mother, " They are on the large packing-case in the 
corner." 

Mrs. Winter asked the ladies to sit down, and Mrs. 
Marshall, drawing a chair to the little girFs side^ 
asked what she was doing. 

" It is a window-curtain, ma'am," she answered, un- 
tying a great mass of netting, which Jessie, at her 
mother's request, took up by the extreme corners, 
that the pattern might be seen. 

It was very well done, and wonderfully clean, and 
Mrs. Marshall had scarcely done admiring it when 
Mrs. Winter found the dolls, and they were brought 
for Jessie's inspection. « 

" Oh, what darlings ! mamma, look here, is'n't this 
a beauty ? the loveliest little face, and, oh ! such dear 
little feet ! Oh ! I shall keep this, for I am sure I 
can't find a prettier ; and look at its curls, isn't it a 
darling.?" showing it first to her mamma, and then to 
Alice, in her delight. 

" It certainly is : but you are detaining Mrs. Win~ 
ter, Jessie ; besides, remember Mrs. Howard." 

The doll was half-a-crown, and Mrs. Winter went 
into the sHop to wrap it in paper, while its delighted 
owner followed her mother out of the little room, after 
saying " Good afternoon " to Alice. 

At the shop-door the two parted, Jessie going home 
for an hour's practice on the piano, and Mrs. Marshall 



ALICE. 7 

to keep her appointment ; but Jessie could not forget 
the poor deformed girl, and her thoughts were so 
divided between her and the new doll for Lucy that 
her practising rather suffered in consequence. 

At five o'clock, the four boys came home from the 
grammar-school, and in the evening there were visitors 
with her mamma, so that Jessie had no opportunity 
of giving expression to her thoughts about Alice ; 
but at last, when she had gone to bed, she heard a 
soft step on the stairs, and her mother opened the 
door and looked in. 

"Asleep, Jessie?" 

" Oh, no, mamma, Tve been wanting you so much ; 
I want to know if I may lend one of my books to 
that poor little girl at the toy-shop." 

" Certainly : poor girl ! she looks dreadfully ill." 

" I wonder how old she is." 

"Older than you, I should think, Jessie." 

" But you don't think, because of that, she would 
mind?" 

" My dear child, no ! I feel sure a fresh book 
would be a treat to her." 

" Then may I go to-morrow evening ?" 

" By all means ; good night, darling." 

Jessie went to sleep very happy ; and all the next 
day during work, and lessons, and dressing Lucy's 
doll, her mind was occupied with thoughts of 
Alice. 



S ALICE. 

As soon as tea was over she went into her own 
little slip of ground in the large garden at the back of 
the house, which stretched down to the stream giving 
the town its name, and there she gathered her choicest 
flowers, daffodils, wall-flowers, great crimson daisies, 
oxlips, and one lovely jonquil, these she tied up with 
a sprig of flowering currant and a most refreshing one 
of sweet-briar, and then, taking her favourite book, 
she walked to Mrs. Winter's. 

It must be owned she felt rather vexed when she 
entered the shop, for there was Mrs. Mcintosh, whose 
husband was the new master of the grammar school, 
and she at once began to admire the flowers so much 
and talk so fast about the shabby state of the garden 
at home, that it really seemed very provoking to 
Jessie, and she could not make up her mind to ask 
for Alice till she had gone ; but then she began : — 

" I have brought some flowers for Miss Winter and 
a book," she said ; " may I take them to her r 

" Yes, indeed, miss, thank you ; she'll be very 
pleased,*' and Mrs. Winter opened the little door. 

Alice was still netting, and looked very much as 
she had done yesterday ; she smiled gratefully when 
Jessie gave her the book, but the flowers seemed to 
please her best, and she examined first one and then 
another with such evident delight that her visitor was 
quite satisfied that she had chosen an acceptable 
offering. 



ALICE. 9 

The poor girl reached a pair of crutches standing 
near her and swung herself with difficulty through 
the door and out into the kitchen, and as she moved 
Jessie thought sadly how deformed she was. She 
would have offered to fetch the water for her, but she 
had feared it might seem intrusive, and very soon 
Alice came back with a green vase into which, still 
leaning on one of her crutches, she began to place the 
flowers. "Now," she said, when her pleasant task 
was finished, " nothing could be sweeter and nicer ; 
I don't know how to thank you,'* she added as she 
^ank into her chair as if much fatigued. 

" Oh, I'm so glad you are pleased with them. How 
do you think you shall like Beckford r 

" Well, I really don't know yet, miss ; the fact is, 
I've not been out of the house since I came into it a 
fortnight ago, but the market-place is clean and plea- 
sant. I like to hear the bells, too, and now these 
flowers will make it seem more like home." 

" Had you a garden where you came from i^" 

" At Allanmede ? yes ; it was only a little square 
one at the back of the house, but the mould was so 
black and good, and everything grew so well ; do you 
know, I can't bear to think of anyone else having that 
dear little garden, I have known it all my life." 

'* Is Allanmede a pretty place ? I have seen it on 
the map and read about it a little in English history." 

" It is a beautiful place, miss. It is built on a hill. 



lO ALICE. 

oh, such a steep one ! there are three streets one above 
the other, and unless you go a long way round and 
get the slope gradually, it is hard work to go up ; 
there is one hill where no horses are allowed to go up 
and down." 

" Like the Steep Hill at Lincoln, I suppose?" inter- 
rupted Jessie^ 

" I don't know, miss, but then Allanmede doesn't 
rise out of the flat as Lincoln does. I noticed that,, 
when I came along ; but when once you get to the 
top of the hill, there you are on the downs, and they 
stretch miles and miles. Certainly the town goes 
down to the river, and there are flat meadows on the 
other side reaching out to the sea ; but oh, it's quite 
different from Lincoln, though I think it looks very 
grand with the cathedral, but then at Allanmede there 
, is the castle and splendid woods behind, and alto- 
gether it's very beautiful !" 

" In which street did you live ?" 

" Oh, in River Street, the one at the bottom, it led 
down to the river ; there was a great bed of shingle 
by the bank and an old boat, and I used to sit out 
there whole days, it was so sunny and there was 
always something to see, either the tide was coming 
in or vessels were going in and out (for although 
Allanmede is 'so little, it is a port), and then on the 
other side the meadows were so green, and in spring 
full of cowslips ; then, farther up, was the bridge and 



ALICE. II 

the wharf — oh, you can have no idea how lovely it is 
unless you see it." 

" Whereabouts is the church ?" 

" Quite at the very top ; you can see the tower 
rising out of the trees, and the churchyard is beautiful,^ 
so large and wide with a high wall, and trees droop 
over it, laburnums and lilacs, and there are copper 
beeches and all sorts of beautiful trees besides, and 
the wall is so old and thick, snapdragons grow on it 
and wallflowers, but they grow on the church as well 
and on the old tombs ; and then blue violets grow in 
the churchyard." 

"But that is nothing strange, is it?" interrupted 
Jessie. 

" Well, perhaps you would not think so, miss, but 
they are very rare there, you can get no end of white 
ones and red ones too, but not many blue, except 
here and there." 

" Red violets ! I never saw any red violets, what are 
they like ?" 

" Oh, a dull, dingy pink, like the pink fumitory, but 
they smell deliciously, even better than white ones, I 
have often found out where they were by their scent 
long before I saw them." 

" Then could you take walks ?" asked Jessie rather 
timidly, for she felt shy of asking such a question, 
though she much wished to know. 

" Oh, no, miss, I could never walk so far, but I had 



12 ALICE. 

a little wheeled chair, and when dear father was 
living he used to draw me, and afterwards there was 
one of the boys from the national school ; no, I could 
never walk further than down to the river." 
" Is it long since you lost your father ?" 
" Nine years, miss. I remember so well the last 
time I was out with him. It was on a Sunday. I 
have not often been to church, because the organ 
sounds so, and I cannot bear seeing so many people ; 
but that morning, I remember well, father carried me 
down the street, which seemed so quiet and deserted, 
and then up the Walnut Hill, through the woods, till 
we came to a stile, leading into some fields ; father 
lifted me over it, and then, after a while, we sat down. 
It was wonderfully quiet, and it seemed to me the 
very birds and sheep knew it was Sunday ; we could 
hear nothing but the tinkling of the sheep bells and 
the buzzing of the bees, and then the butterflies kept 
fluttering by, and sometimes the rabbits came out of 
their holes by the furze bushes, and presently father 
began repeating poetry, * There is a land of pure de- 
light' first, and after that some psalms, so that I fell 
fast asleep, and he carried me home, and I never 
woke till the afternoon, on my little bed. It seemed 
at first like a beautiful dream, till I remembered ; but 
I always like to think of it — the last time we were out 
together — dear father knew what the land of pure de- 
light was before another Sunday ; " and here Alice's 



ALICE. 13 

voice faltered very much, and Jessie saw she was 
nearly crying. 

"Did he die suddenly.?" 

" It was an accident ; he was a builder, and he fell 
off some scaffolding." 

Jessie saw she could not talk about it. So she 
asked, " Have you any brothers and sisters .?" 

" I don't remember my brother ; he died when I 
was a baby. But I've one sister; she is four-and- 
twenty; oh! she is so good, and so pretty, too," said 
the poor girl, with evident pride. 

" And where is she ?*' 

" She is head milliner at Mr. Green's, at Norwich ; 
she has just had her salary raised, she has £4$ now ; 
oh! can you keep a secret .<*" she asked. 

"Oh, yes !" said Jessie, in great delight ; "that is, I 
always tell mamma everything, but that's the same 
thing." 

"Well, you know, Charlotte is engaged to John 
Fry ; he has a water-mill near Allanmede ; but the 
worst is, they can't be married, because, you see, 
Charlotte's salary, great part of it, comes to help 
mother, and pay the doctor for me, and get what I 
want. Oh ! I'm such a burden to them," said Alice^ 
this time really crying. " If I only could do some- 
thing, so that I needn't be such a drag on them ; and 
it does seem so hard upon Charlotte." 
" But you net curtains, don't you ?" 



14 ALICE. 

" Yes, but they don't make much." 

*' Couldn't you keep a little school ?" 

" Oh, I wish I could ; but then I know so very 
little ; I've never been well enough to learn ; and, be- 
sides, though I am much stronger than I used to be, 
I can't bear any noise." 

" But you know some things — English history, for 
instance ?" 

" Only a very little ; not enough to teach." 

"What made you ill at first ?" 

*' The nurse let me fall when I was a baby, and 
that hurt my back." 

" The horrid woman ! don't you hate her .?" 

Alice shook her head. 

" I've been sorely tempted to hate her, miss, over 
and over again ; but then, poor young thing, she was 
thoughtless. No ! I don't bear her malice ; and when 
I can remember that nothing happens without God's 
permission, I fret less ; but I could bear it all, if I 
could only help mother, and let Charlotte be 
married." 

The clock striking sevefi warned Jessie that she 
must go, and after telling Alice she would bring her 
some more flowers soon, she said, "Good bye," and 
went home. When she was gone, Alice wondered 
very much that she had been so talkative to her ; but 
then, after all, she felt it would have been nearly im- 
possible not to confide in her, with that eager, sym- 



ALICE. 15 

pathisi^g face bent forward to her so kindly. As to 
Jessie, she had plenty to think of in the tale she had 
just heard, and was wonderfully silent the rest of the 
evening. 



CHAPTER 11. 

JESSIE. 

The half-hour from half-past two to three, which 
Jessie spent in needlework, was the only time in all the 
day when she could calculate with any degree of cer- 
tainty upon having her mamma to herself for a quiet 
talk. Mrs. Marshall was very particular that it should 
not be interfered with, for she prized the time quite 
as much as Jessie did ; still, interruptions would come 
occasionally, and so it happened on the day after 
Jessie's talk with Alice. First of all, Mrs. Marshall 
was fixing gathers into the band of the frock Jessie 
was making, and every pin was a vexation, and post- 
poned the talk, besides reminding the careless little 
puss that if she had only paid attention the last time 
she had done this kind of work, she would have been 
more independent now. At last the work was ready, 
and then Mrs. Marshall remembered she had left some 



JESSIE. 17 

braid upstairs, which was wanted, and Jessie flew to 
fetch it, noticing as she went up that one of the stair- 
rods was loose, but not waiting to replace it ; conse- 
quently, in her hasty descent, down she slipped, 
grazing her elbow, and giving herself a great fright. 
That was the worst, happily ; and then, profiting by 
experience, she slipped in the rod, and went on to the 
little room : then work began. 

"Oh, mamma, I want to ask you something!" 

Was anything ever so tiresome, a thundering knock 
at the front door, and a sounding peal of the bell ! 

It was no good grumbling, and Mrs. Marshall was 
obliged to leave ; and Jessie, wisely remembering her 
slip on the stairs, went on very carefully indeed, set- 
ting stitch after stitch in its place, not wishing to 
have her work to do over again. She was going on 
most steadily ; but so, also, was time, ai^d it was five 
minutes to three before the front door shut, and Mrs. 
Marshall came in. 

" Well, Jessie, it was only Mrs. Howard about the 
next district meeting; now what do you want to 
know.?" 

"We have only four minutes, but I will be as 
quicjc as possible, mamma ;*' and then Jessie related 
all that Alice had told her the evening before, ending 
with, "And oh, mamma, if you would let me, I do 
think I could teach her a good deal in an hour every 
day ; she looks quick." 



1 8 JESSIE. 

It was just three o'clock, and, according to estab- 
lished rules (excellent things, especially for an impul- 
sive, excitable girl like Jessie), she ought to be writing 
a French exercise, but Mrs. Marshall believed rightly 
that there were better things still, and she would not 
check the outspoken confidence of her child, or treat 
her kind scheme as a mere passing fancy, so she said, — 

" Let me think, Jessie. In the first place, have you 
an hour to spare i*" 

" No, not as they are now ; but if I got up an hour 
earlier, so as to do my lessons and exercises, then it 
would leave the time free from three to four, and I 
could practise then instead of the next hour, and be 
with Alice from four to five." 

Jessie had arranged her plan very nicely in her own 
mind, but mamma looked grave, and she asked rather 
timidly: "You don't think it silly of me, do you, 
mamma .^" 

" Far from it, Jessie ; I think it both wise and kind. 
But there are many things to consider, and supposing 
you began, it would not be right to give it up, or even 
to let other things interfere with it. I am thinking 
whether you would persevere." 

" Oh yes, mamma, I know I should enjoy teaching 
her, and not get tired." 

" Very likely ; but you might grow tired of getting 
up early, and that would put everything wrong. 
However much we may desire to do good out of 



JESSIE. 19 

doors, our first duty is at home, and I am rather 
afraid, Jessie." 

There was no need to say more ; Jessie's conscience 
told her that her mamma's fears were just, and she 
felt very humbled and unhappy. 

" But then, Jessie," said her mother, kindly, " be- 
cause one has been to blame, there is no reason what- 
ever why one should not improve ; and dearest, if I 
could but be sure you would undertake this work in 
God's strength, instead of trusting to your own weak- 
ness, I should feel happy about it, in that way, at 
least ; but I must talk to papa first." 

" Oh, thank you, dear mamma," said Jessie, grate- 
fully. 

" But I cannot give you any answer before Wed- 
nesday, I think. This is Friday, so you have time to 
weigh all the pros and cons in your own mind, and I 
will tell you what I think then. Will that do }'' 

**0h, yes," and Jessie gave her mother a grateful 
kiss, and brought out her lessons. 

Mrs. Marshall had no wish to place stumbling 
blocks in her little daughter's way ; nevertheless, she 
had the best of reasons for considering well before 
consenting to the scheme, which looked so good and 
so easy to accomplish. Jessie had proposed rising an 
hour earlier every morning, and this her mother knew 
could be done, if only she would persevere ; but here 
lay the difficulty, for this business of early rising, or 

2 — 1 



20 JESSIE. 

rather lying in bed late, had been a sore point for 
some time. Jessie was not a lazy girl in other respects, 
on the contrary, she was extremely quick and lively, 
and whenever she put her heart into her work, no one 
could do it better ; the thing was to get her to put 
her heart into it. She had a habit of dreaming over 
things, of neglecting disagreeable duties, while pic- 
turing to herself how well she would perform others 
of a more attractive nature. She had excellent abili- 
ties, and learnt quickly and well whatever pleased her,, 
though she never gave her mind to what was dis- 
agreeable. 

Miss Morgan, who kept the young ladies' school 
which Jessie attended every morning as a special 
favour, as there were no other day pupils, said con- 
tantly, she had no power of concentration, and her 
invariable prescription was, " plenty of arithmetic and 
grammar, and no poetry.'* Mrs. Marshall felt she 
was in the main right, at the same time she thought 
the defect would be better remedied if the motive 
power came from within, and Jessie learnt to do her 
duty from principle, because it was right. Meanwhile, 
Miss Morgan's rule, though it would have done great 
good if only her pupil would have accepted it rightly, 
only fretted and vexed her, and made her feel herself 
ill-used. She loved poetry, and in a proportionate 
degree disliked arithmetic and grammar, and she felt 
it hard that the time selected for her to do extra sums 



JESSIE. 21 

and parsing was the very hour when the other girls 
were reading poetry. It is scarcely to be wondered 
at that the additional time was quite wasted as regards 
improvement, for how could she calculate or remem- 
ber rules when her ears took in nothing but the well 
loved poems which were being read or recited around 
her ? At least, this is what she thought ; her mother 
and Miss Morgan both knew that it could have been 
done, but not in her own strength, poor child. Then 
about early rising : in the winter mornings when Jane 
•called her, she would really mean to get up at once, 
but the first breath of cold air made her reflect 
how warm and cosy her bed was, and then she would 
think of benighted travellers in cold regions, and fancy 
the delight of finding some rough hut for shelter, and 
spending the night in safety and warmth, wrapped up 
in furs, while the wind, and perhaps the wolves, howled 
without. Then the prayer-bell would ring violently 
or one of her brothers knock loudly at the door, and 
she would find to her dismay she had dreamed away 
a whole hour, while every moment determining to 
get up. 

In the summer it was rather better, but not much. 
There was a field across the stream, upon which her 
window looked, and very often she would lie watching 
the clouds, and listening to the larks or the thrushes, 
till she seemed to be making up poetry, which to her 
own mind, in its dreamy state, sounded very pleasant 



22 JESSIK. 

and soothing, but when she tried to remember the 
verses, they were all gone; and then it would be 
breakfast-time, and all the fresh morning beauty she 
had been dreaming about was past. 

Knowing this tendency in her little daughter, Mrs. 
Marshall felt doubly the need of considering well 
before grantirig her request ; it might, if she under- 
took it in the right spirit, be a great help to her, or 
on the other hand, it might be a serious hindrance. 
Then, too, it was quite necessary to see what kind of 
girl Alice was, for Jessie was easily influenced by 
those she liked, and though her mamma was well 
aware that sickness and pain often refine those who 
suffer from them, she knew that it was not always so, 
and therefore, on the next day, when Jessie was at 
school, she went to the toy-shop. 

After a few remarks on general subjects, Mrs. 
Marshall said, — 

" I thought your daughter's netting so pretty the 
other day, and I should be very glad to give her an 
order for a pair of window-blinds, if you don't mind.'^ 

" Indeed, ma'am, I should be very grateful ; but if 
you would be so kind as to speak to Alice herself 
about them, it would give her such pleasure, poor 
child. I believe it's her greatest trouble that she can 
do so little to help." 

"She looks very delicate." 

" Indeed she is, though better than she used to be,. 



JESSIE. 23 

but she can walk but very little, and is so exceedingly 
weak the least thing tires her ; still, it*s a great bles- 
sing she is as she is, for at one time we thought she 
could not live, and she is my great comfort." 

" Does she have much pain ?" 

"A good deal, ma'am, but she is wonderfully 
patient, and never murmurs however much she may 
suffer." 

" I hope you will find the shop answer ; I see you 
have newer things than Miss Martin used to have, 
and that is an advantage, though she made a very 
comfortable living out of it, I believe." 

" She assured me so when I took it, and so far I 
have no reason to complain ; but it takes some time 
to get used to a place, and we had been many years 
in our old home ; indeed, we should not have left it, 
only another fancy shop was opened and took the 
custom away." 

" Shall I find your daughter in the parlour .?" 

Mrs. Winter opened the door, and Mrs. Marshall 
was soon seated by Alice, watching her delight as 
she gave the order for the window-blinds, and then 
looking out the nicest patterns. The lady soon forgot 
her first object in making her call, but as little by 
little she led Alice on to talk of herself and her old 
life, it became very plain to her that, ignorant of this 
world's knowledge as she evidently was, she had been 
studying better lessons under that great Master who 



24 JESSIE. 

alone can make us wise unto salvation, and that in 
the school of adversity the poor deformed child had 
been learning patience and trust as only they can to 
whom the words "Take up thy cross and follow Me" 
are a blessed reality. When she rose to go and 
Alice's inquiry for Jessie brought to mind her doubts, 
she felt they were now set quite at rest, and had a 
mind free to talk over Jessie's wishes with her papa. 

As to Jessie, although Alice was constantly in her 
thoughts, she kept a strict silence, and tried so hard 
to be patient and not let her castle in the air make 
her idle, that Mrs. Marshall was more than ever con- 
vinced that her will was strong enough if only it could 
be rightly directed ; that was the point on which she 
longed for some sure ground for hope. 

Wednesday came, and punctually at half-past two 
Jessie brought her work into " the snuggery" (as the 
little side room was called), and though her mother 
was there before her, and her eagerness was so great 
that she felt as if she could scarcely breathe, she 
waited till Mrs. Marshall said, " Well, Jessie, are you 
still in the same mind V' 

" Oh, yes, mamma ; oh, may I do it ? may I ?" she 
said, as she saw a smile on Mrs. Marshall's face. 

"I have consulted with papa, Jessie, and I have 
seen Alice." 

" Oh ! but you didn't tell her, surely, mamma .?" 

" No, no, dear ; I said nothing about it ; but I 



JESSIE. 25 

thought I should like some little talk with her, in 
order to find out if she was such a companion as I 
should like for my daughter." 

" Oh, say yes, mamma, say yes !" 

" Yes, Jessie, I could not help thinking how much 
more she had made of her life of suffering than most 
girls make of their lives of happiness : from what I 
saw of Alice's mind in the conversation we had, I feel 
sure she would do you only good ; but there are other 
things to consider, Jessie." 

" Yes, mamma, I know." 

" In the first place, if you undertake it, you must 
go through with it. It would never do after raising 
her expectations to let any scheme or plan of your 
own or of others interfere with your hour daily." 

" Oh, mamma, I should not wish it." 

" No, I quite believe you, Jessie, and that just now 
you think nothing would be so delightful as teaching 
Alice ; but temptation to neglect it may come, and 
then, Jessie — " 

" Then, mamma, I would not give way to it, oh, I 
am sure I would not !" said Jessie beseechingly. 

" And then, Jessie, about the hour in the morning ; 
if you grow lazy and neglect your lessons, I should 
be obliged to stop this, sorry as I should be to do it, 
but, as I have often told you, darling, home duties are 
of the first importance." 

" Yes, mamma." 



26 JESSIE. 

" Well then, dearest, you have papa s consent and 
mine too, but I would rather you did not decide this 
minute about so important a subject ; think again of 
it, and of what I have said too, and to-night I will 
come when you are in bed, and we will settle it." 

Jessie threw her arms round her mother's neck and 
then took up her work, and very hard she found it ta 
do, quietly, still more difficult to refrain from speaking 
of all the plans in her mind ; but she accomplished 
both, and when three o'clock came, went to her studies 
and tried to fix her mind on them, but she did not 
succeed very well. 

That night, as she lay in her little white bed and 
watched through the uncurtained window the silver 
moon sailing in the deep blue sky, her busy brain was 
full of wonderful plans for Alice's benefit, and when 
Mrs. Marshall came in with her gentle step, it was to 
find her little girl very much excited and in the very 
highest spirits. 

" Oh, mamma, it's quite settled, and you will see 
how well we shall get on ; and then, too, it will be 
doing some good, you know, mamma, and oh, I am 
so happy !" 

" If I were only sure, Jessie, that it would be for 
your good — " 

" Oh, mamma, what harm can I get .'*" 

"None from Ali:e, I feel sure; but you know,, 
dearest, how careless you are about many thin^^s 



JESSIE. 27 

when you have one alI-ab3orbing interest, and I don't 
feel quite happy about you, Jessie." 

" Oh, mamma, do you think me so hopeless ?" and 
Jessie laid her head on her mother's shoulder. 

" Not hopeless, darling, if only I could be sure that 
this work is undertaken in reliance upon -God's 
strength ; oh, my child !" she said with unwonted 
energy, "do not rely upon yourself; think how very 
often you have made resolutions only to break them, 
and be persuaded to pray for help to keep you stead- 
fast ; it is that you want, dearest ; you have good 
impulses and a most loving disposition, but these are 
not enough to keep you right ; only God can do 
that," and Jessie felt a tear fall over her face. 

" Mamma, I know it ; I can't fix my attention when 
I have things to do I don't like, and the least thing 
upsets me, and then it is so difficult when I have any 
one plan in my mind, to think of anything else ; but 
really, mamma, I feel sure I shall persevere with 
Alice, because it will be such fun teaching her ; and 
as to the getting up and doing all my other work, — 
oh, mamma, do you think in those little things I 
could ask God to help me .?" 

'* Do you remember the words ' He that is faithful 
in that which is least is faithful also in much ?' " 

" Yes, mamma." 

" Then, Jessie, be sure of this, our Saviour would 
not have said them ; He would not command faithful- 



28 JESSIE. 

ncss in little things, and, at the same time, withhold 
the strength to do them ; because we all know (we 
who are older I mean), that little duties are often far 
harder to do than great ones, excitement often helps 
us through those, but only God's grace can sustain 
and encourage us in smaller trials ; and He giveth 
liberally and upbraideth not." 

" Mamma, will you ask Him for me ?" 
Mother and daughter knelt together in the moon- 
light, and when they rose, and Mrs. Marshall bent 
down to give her a good night kiss, she felt far happier 
about her child than when she had entered the room. 
God's blessing had been asked on the undertaking, 
and His promise is sure, " Ask and ye shall receive, 
that your joy may be full." 



CHAPTER III. 

LESSONS. 

Jessie faithfully accomplished her hour's work the 
next morning, and was refreshing herself with a run 
in the garden before breakfast, when her mother joined 
her. " One thing we have forgotten, Jessie," she said,, 
with a smile, " and that is, Mrs. Winter's permission ; 
perhaps she will object to your teaching Alice." 

"That I am sure she won't, mamma," said Jessie, 
in a positive tone; "but, of course, it would be very 
rude not to ask. I can go before school this morn- 
ing; may I.?" 

" Certainly. Oh ! there's the prayer-bell. Come, 
Jessie." 

Soon after nine, Jessie, with a fresh bunch of 
flowers from her garden, was on her way to the tO} - 
shop; it was nearer home than school, so she took 
her books with her, as to be unpunctual on this of all 
days was the last thing she desired. Mrs. Winter was 



30 LESSONS. 

dusting the shop, and had scarcely time to say "Good 
morning," before Jessie began : 

" Oh, Mrs. Winter, IVe a very great favour to ask 
you." 

" If I can grant it, miss, I shall be very happy." 

" Oh, that you can, certainly. It's only to ask — 
that is, mamma has given me leave to ask — if you 
would allow me to come here an hour every after- 
noon, and do some lessons with Alice ; I should 
enjoy it so." 

It would have been very hard to say " No," with 
that bright, eager face looking up straight into her 
own, even if Mrs. Winter had been so inclined ; as it 
was, she answered directly, " It would give Alice 
more pleasure than anything else, I do believe, and 
she's sadly backward, poor child ! For all she's six- 
teen, there's many a child of ten knows more than 
she does; but then her health has been the draw- 
back; but she is stronger now, and I think could 
bear it, and thank you very much, miss, I am sure." 

" Is she down ? May I tell her .?" 

" Yes, she is in the parlour." 

So was Jessie, in less than no time. Alice was 
sorting her old flowers, cutting the stems of some, 
and putting the others on one side. " I have brought 
you some more," she said. 

Then, scarcely waiting to be thanked, she unfolded 
her plan to Alice ; so fast, and with so much excite- 



LESSONS. 3 1 

ment, that Alice was rather overwhelmed ; going over 
it a second time, Jessie made it more clear, and Alice 
was quite as much delighted as she had expected she 
would be, which is saying a great deal. 

" Then we will begin this afternoon. Look ! won't 
it be fun doing these exercises.'*" and she displayed 
two of her own books. 

" Tm afraid you will find me very stupid," said 
Alice. 

" Not a bit of it ! Then I will be here by four. 
Good bye." 

For about an hour or more, school work went on 
very steadily. Jessie had her music-lesson, and read 
history, and wrote composition, three things she 
dearly loved ; then the poetry class was called up, 
and she was told to write a parsing exercise, and do 
three sums. Poor Jessie ! 

The old feeling that this was unjust rose strongly 
within her, as she took her seat at the deserted desks, 
and, instead of bending her mind to the task before 
her, she began to wonder whether Alice liked poetry ; — 
she hoped so. Then, looking up, she saw through the 
opposite window the grey church tower, which the 
deep blue sky showed off so clearly in the morning 
light, and then she began to wonder how long it was 
since the tower had been built, for it was very old 
indeed, and how Beckford had looked then ; and, as 
this was an old and favourite theme for speculation. 



32 LESSDNS. 

she quite lost herself in it, till she was startled, and 
suddenly brought back to the present time, with its 
manners and customs, by Miss Morgan calling out^ 
in a strong, determined voice, " Jessie ! " 

And, behold, half an hour was gone ; the parsing 
was untouched, and she had only done three figures 
of her sum ! 

A habit of inattention is ver>' difficult to conquer, 
and, although Jessie suddenly remembered her good 
resolutions, and what depended on keeping them, it 
seemed almost impossible to apply herself to the 
figures while the girls were reading " Henry the 
Eighth,'* especially as Marian Francis was droning- 
through Wolsey*s famous speech to Cromwell, which 
she could have recited with spirit and power. Twelve 
o'clock struck, and, really anxious not to fail, Jessie 
summoned courage to ask Miss Morgan if she might 
not take her books and slate into the study ; she was 
quite sure that away from the reading she could do 
better. 

But Miss Morgan would not hear of it. She must 
conquer her inattention, and learn how not to be dis- 
tracted ; and she further added, that if the exercise 
and sums were not correctly done by half#-past twelve, 
they would be doubled, and have to be done at home* 
Jessie burst into tears. Extra lessons had not 
entered into her mind when making her calculations 
with regard to Alice, and she knew very well that it 



LESSONS. 33 

would be impossible to accomplish more in the early- 
hour than what she had set herself, and she felt very- 
doubtful about finding extra time. She dried her 
tears, and did her best ; but it was of no use, school 
was over, and the girls buzzing about her like so 
many bees, and she had not yet worked one sum. 
Miss Morgan called her, and, after setting her three 
more sums, and another page of parsing, said she 
was idle and obstinate. And perhaps it was not to be 
wondered at that she should think her so; but it 
grieved Jessie, for she was not obstinate, she knew. 

There was just this possibility, that no one would 
want her before dinner ; and in this hope she walked 
home; but little Lucy met her at the garden-gate, 
having just given her new doll an airing and put her 
to bed, and now came with a petition on her own ac- 
count for a swing, which Jessie could not refuse. She 
left her books on the hall-table, and went out, and it 
was well that " baby " was content to be swung in 
silence, for her sister had at first no heart to talk. She 
brightened up presently ; there was still some time to 
spare after dinner ; but this hope was disappointed, for 
as she entered the dining-room, there was Fred, and 
his first words were, "I say, Jessie, I am going to 
row down to Lowford Bridge after dinner ; we shall 
be back by half-past two. Now, you must come, and 
try the new boat." 

It was hard to give up the spare time, much as she 

3 



34 LESSONS. 

liked being on the water, and probably Jessie would 
have declined to go, if all at once she had not re- 
membered her mother's words, " Home duties are of 
the first importance." 

So she said " Yes," as Cheerfully as she could, and 
tried to enjoy the row and Fred's fun, but her heart 
was not very light. She said nothing about it to her 
mamma as she worked, and Mrs. Marshall was rather 
surprised that she had no impossible plans to com- 
municate with regard to her new pupil ; she did not 
know that self-confidence had been somewhat shaken. 

Jessie practised carefully ; but, as four o'clock struck, 
her spirits revived, and in five minutes she was in the 
little room behind the toy-shop, ready for action. 

Alice was sitting in a high chair by the table, and 
on the oilcloth cover was an inkstand, holding a new 
pen ; two new exercise-books and a copy-book were 
lying by it, together with a slate and pencil. These 
preparations looked like business, and Jessie was 
very much surprised and pleased ; she did not think 
she was doing any great thing in helping Alice, but 
Mrs. Winter did, and rightly thought that if the 
young lady was willing to give up her time, the least 
she could do was to meet her kind intentions by pro-' 
viding necessary materials. 

It was very funny, really beginning to teach, for, 
though Jessie had from very early days been accus- 
tomed to set copies for her dolls, and write books for 




'Ton mnstn't mind my sayiiiR bo, bnt don't you think if you joined eacli part of the letters 
it would be better ?'— Page 85. 



LESSONS. 35 

them, and otherwise endeavour to instruct their doll- 
minds, and even now thought that to be a governess • 
must be of all things charming, she had never really 
taught any one, and she wondered how to begin. 

" You have a copy-book I see," she said, " suppose 
you write first, we always do so at school." 

She had, with some forethought brought a set of 
<:opies with her, and now Alice dipped her pen in the 
ink and the all-important busiYiess began. 

Jessie's own writing was not particularly good, but as 
she contemplated the straggling disjointed characters 
before her when Alice had done a line, she felt she 
ought to find fault, and this had not entered into her 
mind at all ; however, out it came. 

" You mustn't mind my saying so, but don't you 
think if you joined each part of the letters it would be 
better } I am always forgetting to do it myself, but 
Miss Morgan is very particular — you don't mind my 
saying so ?" 

" Oh, no, thank you," said Alice laughing, " I'm sure 
to make no end of mistakes, and if you don't tell me 
of them, I shan't get On at all — is that better ?" after 
toiling laboriously through the word " Andalusia." 

" Oh, yes, that's a great improvement." 

Jessie soon saw that Alice was very particular in- 
deed, and when four lines were finished she said it 
was enough, and^took up the slate and broached the 
unpleasant subject of arithmetic. However she found 

3—2 



63 LESSONS. 

that at present she need not fear, as Alice only knew 
the four simple rules, so she heard the pence, farthing, 
and shilling tables, and set her a sum in compound 
addition. It required a little explaining, and Jessie 
found herself repeating Miss Morgan's rules with great 
emphasis, and thought them really quite easy as she 
tried to make them clear to Alice. The sum was soon 
finished, and Jessie set two more to be done by the 
next lesson and then took up her English History. 
" Where shall we begin r she asked. 

"Oh, at the beginning, don't you think }" said Alice,, 
" I know so very little." 

" Well, shall I ask you a few questions first ?" 

She made them as easy as possible, but soon found 
that Alice was right, for beyond knowing about Alfred 
and the cakes, and that Henry the Eighth had six wives, 
her knowledgewas very misty indeed ; some idea she had 
about the fate of Charles the First, and she knew that 
either Thomas h Becket or Wolsey had been murdered 
in Canterbury Cathedral, but she was not at all certain 
who was the victim ; the Wars of the Roses she had 
never heard of, and the Norman Conquest did not 
enter into her ideas at all, so that Jessie opened the 
history and Alice began to read. 

She read exceedingly well as regards expression, 
but she stumbled a good deal over the hard words, 
which reminded the young teacher of the benefit of 
dictation exercises, but she wisely kept to the busi- 



LESSONS. 37 

ness before her, and when the chapter was ended it 
was time to go ; so she showed Alice the questions at 
the end, and advised her to write an exercise from 
them on what she had read, then she marked some 
lessons for her to learn, beginning at the commence- 
ment of each book, and that done she went home. 

On the way, her brothers, just let loose from the 
grammar school, overtook her, and Fred was very- 
anxious to know why she had been visiting the toy- 
shop. She parried his questions as well as she could, 
for ridicule was a thing to which she was specially 
sensitive ; but at tea-time he asked her again, and, with 
every one looking at her, she felt there was nothing 
for it but to speak out, so she said — 

"Don't you know that Mrs. Winter has a poor 
deformed daughter who never gets out r 

" If she never gets out Vm n9t likely to know about 
her : well, is she old or young ?" 

" Sixteen ; and as she can't go out, I'm going to sit 
with her and lend her books and so on.'* 

" All right ! I say, Jessie, what sort of cricket-bats 
does she keep, Mrs. Winter I mean .?" 

" They look first-rate ; suppose you go and see for 
yourself, Fred ; when is the first cricket match .?" 

" Saturday week ; we practise this evening ; can you 
come ?" 

There could be no reasonable objection to this, and 
when tea was over Jessie accompanied her mother and 



38 LESSONS. 

brothers to the field ; studying was out of the question 
when they returned, so there was nothing for it but to 
make up her mind to an extra half-hour in the morning, 
and with this in view she went to sleep. 

It was scarcely light when she woke the next day,, 
but she resisted her inclination to delay, and when she 
had dressed and knelt down to her prayers the words,. 
" If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God," 
came to her mind, and, feeling herself sadly lacking,, 
she laid her wants before that loving Father, who is 
ever ready to help those who seek Him, and then she 
• took up her slate. 

The birds were beginning to sing, and the window^ 
seat was comfortable, but she knew it had temptations,, 
as the cows in the field beyond were objects of interest 
to her far outweighing sums and parsing, so she reso- 
lutely turned away, and relying upon the promise that 
God would help her, she set to work with such a will 
that both lessons were finished in a wonderfully short 
time, and she was ready for her usual hour's work. It 
was all done before eight o'clock, her mind was at 
rest, but she had learnt a lesson about the consequences 
of dreaming that she would not easily forget. 

That afternoon she found that Alice had done an 
exercise very fairly, besides finishing her copy and 
working the sums ; lessons too were correctly known,, 
and so she introduced geography, and when Alice had 
found on the map as many places as she could con-^ 



LESSONS. 39 

veniently carry in her mind at once, " English in all 
its branches" seemed comfortably launched. On 
Saturday, at Miss Morgan's, there was always a Bible 
lesson, but Jessie felt shy of teaching Alice on any 
religious matter, so she contented herself with asking 
a few questions on Scripture history, and found her so 
well informed that on the following Friday, after half- 
an-hour's writing and reading, she said — 

" Alice, we always prepare a Bible lesson for Miss 
Morgan every week ; we have a class on Saturday, and 
I thought that if you did not mind, we would prepare 
it together." 

" Oh, I should like it so much." 

"The subject for to-morrow is, 'Trust in God,' 
and we have to find out instances from the Bible and 
texts ; but do you know, really, I can't think of any 
one besides Abraham in the Old Testament ?" 

" There was Moses." 

"Oh, but it doesn't say much about his trust, 
does it r 

"Well, he was an instance of his parents' trust, 
certainly ; it must have been strong faith on his 
mother's part to trust him in his basket on the river, 
she must have been sure God would protect him or 
she would not have done it." 

" Oh, I had forgotten that." 

" Yes, and then in Egypt when he saw his brethren's 
bondage, and afterwards in Midian, where he waited 



40 LESSONS. 

all those years, he must have had strong faith to keep 
him from desponding ; then about the Israelites, oh ! 
and afterwards when before Pharaoh, and at the Red 
Sea, and in the wilderness. Then Joshua too, and the 
way the Israelites were led over Jordan, I so often 
think of that and of the Red Sea when we are per- 
plexed and there seems no way out of the difficulties ; 
sometimes God removes them, but oftener He docs 
not, but He finds a way over them or through them, 
as He did with the three Jews in the fiery furnace. 
Oh ! I think the Bible is full of encouragement to 
trust, and there are so many instances in which faith 
has been rewarded. Daniel, and David, and Joseph, 
oh ! and so many others — the woman of Canaan, and 
Paul and Peter — the Bible is full of help to us in this 
way." 

" You know more about these things than I do, 
Alice." 

Alice was far too humble to take any praise to 
herself " Oh, Miss Jessie," she said, " when one is ill 
and in trouble, what is there to turn to for comfort but 
the Bible ? And then it is all so true ; often when I feel 
inclined to despond, I can remember wonderful ways 
in which God has helped us when we most needed it, 
as well as all that is told us in the Bible. Then being 
shut out from active life I think is one reason why I 
have read the Bible so much, and it throws such a 
light upon one's life." 



LESSONS. 41 

" Well, some parts of the Bible I like very much, 
the psalms and prophecies, and Revelations, and some 
other parts too, but there are many things I can't 
understand." 

"The Bible is not like other books that we can 
read and find out the sense for ourselves ; God must 
-explain it by His Spirit : there is a text I like so much, 
' And they shall all be taught of God/ " 

" Has He taught you, Alice ?" 

" I trust so, Miss Jessie, it makes me very happy to 
think how He leads and guides us and sees just what 
"we want. Why nothing could please me more than 
having an opportunity of learning with the hope of 
helping mother and Charlotte, and when I couldn't 
see my way to it at all. He sent you. Miss Jessie. Oh, 
He is very very loving." 

" Oh, Alice, do you really think He sent me to you ? 
It seems such an honour to be allowed to do anything 
for God, and one would need to be very good, I think." 

" He makes use of the least and lowest of us. Miss 
Jessie, and it is such a privilege to work for Him ; and 
then the weaker we are and the less we think of our- 
selves, the more we can rejoice in the words, 'My 
grace is sufficient for thee, My strength is made per- 
fect in weakness.' '' 

" Where are those words }" 

" I will find them for you." 

Jessie read the verses, and then said, " But surely. 



42 LESSONS. 

Alice, your life is a very sad one. I mean, it must be 
dreadfully hard to suffer pain, and never to go out,, 
and to be dependent on others. Oh ! I should rebel 
against such a life, Tm sure." 

" It is not easy always, but then. Miss Jessie, there 
are so many mercies ; mother is so kind and so cheer- 
ful always, and Charlotte sends home such letters, and 
then we can make a living out of the shop (at least it 
seems as if we should), and all the people here seem 
neighbourly. And though our dear old home is miles 
and miles away, it is so nice to think about it, and re- 
member all the lovely walks, and the river, and the 
church ; and then, since you came to see me that day 
when you brought the flowers, I have had you to- 
think about, and there are the blinds to net for Mrs. 
Marshall, and since you began to teach me I have 
been very happy. Oh, no, my life is not sad." 

Jessie made no remark, but it flashed across her — 
if this poor deformed girl was so grateful and con- 
tented in her struggling life, what ought she to be I 
Strong and lively, with such good parents, and so 
many to love her, able to walk where she liked and 
be independent, never suffering ache or pain, and with 
no heavier troubles than having to darn her owa 
stockings and get up early in the morning; surely 
s/ie ought to be grateful, and take delight in pleasing 
God, who had so blessed her ; and yet, how little she 
thought of Him, how little she valued His kindness,, 
compared with Alice. 



LESSONS. 4S 

Our Saviour said to His disciples of old, *'Ye are 
the salt of the earth;" and true it is, indeed, that 
every one of His children, no matter how despised 
and poor, has the power to exercise an influence for 
good over those with whom he comes in contact. As 
the salt preserves material substances from corruptipn,. 
so do Christians purify those among whom they live ; 
and, little as she knew it, the girl so suffering, and so 
shut out from all that is usually deemed agreeable 
and pleasant, was beginning to influence for her 
eternal good the bright, thoughtless child who had 
taken on herself the task of teaching her' earthly 
things. Very good in their way were these, but the 
wisdom that cometh from above is beyond price, and 
Alice, in her quiet life, was setting forth the truth of 
the words, "Thou hast hid these things from the 
wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto 
babes." 

Meanwhile, Jessie was persevering in her efforts 
after steadiness, and, difficult as she found it, it be- 
came easier as she tried to give her mind to the sub- 
ject before her, and Miss Morgan began to wonder 
where the improvement originated. True, the sums 
and parsing to be done during the poetry class were 
still irksome in the last degree, but though she occa- 
sionally found herself listening to the reading, and 
now and then lost consciousness of present trials in 
some delightful day-dream of herself as a governess,. 



44 LESSONS. 

when she would consult her pupils' tastes, and other- 
wise be the charming teacher that Miss Morgan was 
not ; still, on the whole, she improved ; and Mrs. 
Marshall, watching intently, as only mothers can 
watch, for signs of progress in the right way, marked 
more than one encouraging instance ; and one day, 
during the working time, she said to her : " Do you 
find it very difficult to get everything done, Jessie ? 
I have thought you much steadier lately, my dear." , 

This praise from mamma was very sweet, and 
Jessie coloured with delight. 

" Oh, do you really think so ?" she said. " I am so 
glad, for I have been trying." 

" That I am sure you have, dearest ; papa and I 
have both noticed it. And the sums, Jessie, how do 
they go onV 

" Oh, they are very horrid still ; but do you know, 
mamma, it helps me so much teaching Alice. Not 
that she has got on so far as I have; but she is so 
clear about figures, she is never muddle-headed as I 
am, and I am sure it helps me." 

" That I can well believe. Does she like poetry.?" 

" Yes, very much ; that is, some sorts ; but she is 
not so fond of it as I am. Don't you think it won- 
derful, mamma, that she gets on so fast t she knows 
ever so much more of geography, and history, and 
grammar, than I should have thought it possible she 
could learn in little more than a fortnight." 



LESSONS. 45 

" She is anxious to improve, that is the principal 
thing ; then she has not very much else to think of, 
and everything is fresh to her, poor girl ! I can fancy 
what a delight it is to her." 

" Oh, won't it be delightful when she can have a 
little school ! Of course, I have not said anything to 
them ; but 1 know lots of people who have children 
who will be old enough next year. There is Mrs. 
White, the butcher's wife ; she has three, little ones ; 
and Mrs. Simpson and the Franklins and Smiths. I 
do like to think about it, because there really is no 
school for little children. Don't you think it is likely 
they would go.^" 

" Very likely ; but it is best not to mention it at 
present. There is plenty of time." 

** And then the room. There is that long one at 
the back of the house, that goes behind it and the 
next, you know. Mrs. Winter keeps packing-cases 
and things in it, but Alice and I thuik it would be 
just right, and needn't interfere with the boxes at alL 
If there is a rod put up, and a curtain drawn from 
one side to the door, it will cut off that end nicel)\ 
and make a snug, square little room ; and though 
there is no fire-place, I have thought that a stove like 
Mr. Simpson's could be put in it. That cost two 
pounds, I know, because I heard Mr. Simpson telling 
papa the day he got it ; and oh ! mamma, if you don't 
mind, I should like to save up my money for that; 
may I.?" 



46 LESSONS. 

"Certainly you may; but about forms and tables?" 

" Oh, Alice and I can't imagine where they are to 
come from, but she says something is sure to come 
at the right time ; and really, from what she says, I 
think it is quite likely ; she has told me of several 
times when they have been helped just at the very 
time when the help was needed." 

" But when have you time for all this talk ? I am 
afraid lessons must suffer, if there is so much conver- 
sation." 

" Oh no, mamma, the day we made plans about the 
schoolroom was that Thursday her head ached so and 
she couldn't read much ; we don't often talk, except 
when we prepare the Bible lesson together, and then 
she tells me how they have been helped, and I like to 
hear her — it makes the Bible seem so real." 

" Indeed, my child, experience of God's love does 
indeed make us realise it as nothing else can, and it 
makes me very happy to know you do talk of such 
things ; Aljce can teach j^ou something, I think, 
Jessie ?" 

"Yes, mamma, though she does not think she is 
teaching, I am sure. One thing troubles me very 
much, she feels the heat so now the warm weather has 
come, and that window in the parlour can't be opened 
•without letting in no end of dust ; it is very bad for 
her, especially as she can't get out of doors." 

" Well, we must see what can be done, but there is 



LESSONS. 47 

three striking — now for the music — how is that duet 
progressing ? <:ome, I will play the bass — that's right ! 
Now we'll see who breaks down first/* 

Mrs. Marshall did, to Jessie's great delight, but a 
second attempt proved highly successful, and another . 
duet was accomplished to perfection, so that Jessie 
was left to finish her practising with the encouraging 
words, " Improvement in one thing ensures it in 
another, when the will is right, and every temptation 
to carelessness conquered is so much gained ; and so 
go on, darling, and be sure if you persevere, you will 
succeed at last." 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE BATH CHAIR. 

The month of May was exceedingly warm, and one 
day in particular was so very sultry that no one was 
surprised by a severe thunderstorm which between 
four and five o'clock burst over the town. Alice had 
been suffering much from head-ache, and lessons had 
rather dragged in consequence ; but the sound of the 
rain was most refreshing, and when Jessie ventured to 
open the window, secure for the present from dust^ 
the cool air blew most softly on the poor girl's heated 
forehead ; she was sitting enjoying it, when Jessie heard 
her papa's voice in the shop, and looking over the 
little muslin blind which half covered the glass door^ 
she saw him with her waterproof on his arm, talking 
to Mrs. Winter. He soon came in, and after telling 
Jessie to wrap up and he would take her home, he 
turned to Alice and said in his pleasant hearty 
manner, " Well, have you a dragon of a governess in 
Jessie here r 



THE BATH CHAIR. 49 

" No, indeed, sir," said Alice, smiling, " nothing can 
be more patient, and I have been extra stupid to-day, 
I think." 

" What's the matter — headache — eh >** as he felt her 
pulse, " You are sure you are not working too hard }" 

" I think not, sir." 

" Don't you ever get out .^" 

*'No, sir ; I can't walk more than a few steps." 

*' Have you no chair you could be drawn in .^" 

" We had one, sir," answered Mrs. Winter, " but 
she outgrew it, and afterwards we hired one ; but I've 
inquired here and find there is not one to be had." 

" She ought to be as much in the fresh air as pos- 
sible; plenty of fresh air and the best of nourishment 
are what she needs — ^how is her appetite V' 

" But very poor, sir ; I get the best of things for 
her, but it is not much she fancies." 

" Can she sleep at nights .?" 

"Not very well." 

"Well, I will see, Mrs. Winter," and there was 
something in that assurance which was hopeful and 
cheering. 

The doctor held a large umbrella over Jessie, and 
holding his arm tightly she reached home warm and 
dry. On the way she had asked him what he could 
do for Alice, and he had replied, " Nothing, if she is 
to be kept frying in that room." 

After tea he had to ride into the country to see a 

4 



50 THE BATH CHAIR. 

patient, and after debating in his own mind which of 
two ways he should take, he decided for the one which 
led past the vicarage back gates, muttering to himself, 
" It's very unpleasant, but it ought to be done, so 
here goes !** 

The fact was that Mr. Marshall knew that the only 
person in Beckford who owned a Bath-chair was the 
clergyman ; it had been constantly used for more than 
three years by his delicate young wife, but now that 
she was dead it was kept carefully out of sight, for the 
desolate husband could not bear to give it away, and 
indeed valued everything belonging to her who was 
gone with such a tender reverence that Mr. Marshall 
knew it would cost him a great effort to take out the 
chair for another's benefit, and yet he felt he ought at 
least to know of the necessity for so doing, as no one 
in Beckford was rich enough to provide one for Alice, 
and the hire of one from Lincoln was more than Mrs. 
Winter could afford, he knew ; so that he determined 
to make an attempt to induce Mr. Eaton to give the 
assistance he so well could, and with this view reined 
in his horse at the vicarage back gate, which stood 
open, and revealed the clergyman contemplating his 
reviving plants, all sparkling with raindrops glistening 
in the evening sun. 

" Good evening !" he called out, " this rain has done 
a power of good." 

Mr. Eaton came forward, "Yes, the lettuces are 



THE BATH CHAIR. $1 

quite refreshing to look at ; the sultry weather had 
made them droop terribly." 

"Yes, it has been very trying. Talking of heat, 
that poor girl of Mrs. Winter's suffers very much 
from it ; I have been seeing her this afternoon, and 
really I fear it will go badly with her if she cannot 
get out ; that little poky back room is like an oven. 
Do you know her ?" he asked. 

" Oh, yes ; I have seen her twice, and a very good, 
patient little thing she seems : but do you really think 
so badly of her }" 

" I do indeed ; and this is such an inconvenient 
place to live in, there is no hiring a Bath-chair; I 
never knew a town so behind the times as Beckford, 
and that's the truth." 

" But cannot she move about at all ?" 

"She walks a little on crutches, but only a very 
little — well, I must be off— I am bound for Bramble- 
ton — old Mr. Carter is laid up again. Good evening." 

" Good evening." 

The vicar returned to the contemplation of his 
lettuces and carrots, but they only reminded him of 
Alice, and Mr. Marshall's words made him very un- 
comfortable. " I believe he mentioned it on purpose," 
he said to himself " Ah, well ! he doesn't know what 
it is !" and the clergyman sighed ; nevertheless he 
went in-doors into a little room on the ground floor, 
where the Bath-chair stood shrouded in its coverings, 

^—1 



52 THE BATH CHAIR. 

while on the wall were hung the side saddle and 
riding whip which, in their early married days, his 
wife had used, and in one comer a set of garden tools 
rested against the mantel-piece. Everything was a 
painful reminder to the vicar as he glanced around ; 
surely it was not necessary that he should thus do . 
violence to his feelings ? nay ! was it not wanting in 
reverence for the dead to let a stranger use the chair 
in which so many many times that dear form had re- 
clined ? " I really don't believe I could bear to see 
another face in it," he thought to himself, and then he 
turned into the study and tried to fix his mind upon a 
commentary on the Gospels he was arranging ; but it 
was of no use — first one text and then another, as he 
turned over the leaves of the Bible, reminded him of 
the duty of self-sacrifice, and the privilege of helping 
the Lord's poor, and then a voice within seemed telling 
him that it could be no dishonour to the memory of his 
gentle, patient wife to let another poor sufferer derive 
what benefit she could from the chair, which was 
standing there useless. It was a very long struggle, 
and often the balance was very much in favour of allow- 
ing the chair to remain where it was, but soon after 
breakfast the next morning, Mr. Eaton himself moved 
it into the hall, and then as he mounted his horse said 
to the groom standing by, " Kenrick, here is a note 
for Mr. Marshall, take it down at once, please ; there is 
no answer required." Then with an effort which he 



THE BATH CHAIR. 53 

managed to conceal, he added, " I shall dine at Thorpe 
to-day, and Kenrick, sometime this morning, cis soon 
as you can, take the Bath-chair to Mrs. Winter's — it 
is in the hall — take it just as it is." 

" Mrs. Winter at the toy-shop, sir ?" 

" Yes," and then he rode off. 

When Jessie came home to dinner, Mr. Marshall 
called her into his study " Here is a note I wish you 
to read," he said. 

Jessie took it and read it eagerly. 

" Dear Marshall, 

" I have ordered the chair to be sent to Mrs. 
Winter's this morning; her daughter is welcome to 
use it as long as you think it necessary — on one con- 
dition — that no one alludes to the subject before me ; 
also I must stipulate for no thanks. 

"Yours faithfully, 

"Reginald Eaton." 

" Oh, how very kind !'* said Jessie, " and it must 
have cost him a good deal, I am sure. I have heard 
he cannot beaf to see any of Mrs. Eaton's things, and 
it would be very trying for him to meet Alice in her 
chair ; but oh ! I do think it is good of him," and 
Jessie's delight was somewhat tempered by the 
thought of Mr. Eaton's sacrifice. 

"You would like to superintend its use the first 
time, I suppose, Jessie ?" 



54 THE BATH CHAIR. 

" Oh yes, papa ; when may it be — this evening ?" 

" If you like ; I will see if Robin at the hospital 
can draw it, or rather wheel it, for it is made peram- 
bulator fashion, I believe." 

The hospital was a kind of alms-house for six old 
men, who each received a pension from an old charity 
founded centuries ago ; it was a pleasant-looking old 
fashioned building, divided into six small houses, each 
having a garden before it, in which the old men 
worked ; those who were able were glad to be em- 
ployed on little errands, or light garden work, and 
Mr. Marshall thought Robin would not object to 
wheeling Alice, as he was stronger than the others. 

Jessie thought a little and then exclaimed, " But 
who will pay him, papa ? /would gladly, only I want 
to save my money for something else." 

" Oh, I will see to that. That is my affair. Shall 
I tell him to be at Mrs. Winter's at a quarter to six?'* 

" If you please, papa ; that will do nicely." 

When Jessie arrived at the toy-shop that afternoon 
she found its inhabitants in a great state of excite- 
ment. A Bath-chair had come in the morning, and 
the man who brought it said his master was out for 
the day, and Mrs. Winter was anxious to have some 
advice. " Shall I go up to the vicarage to-night, and 
thank him, do you think. Miss Jessie, or wait for to- 
morrow .^" she said. 

" Oh, you mustn't thank him at all." And then 
Jessie explained how it was. 



THE BATH CHAIR. 55 

Mrs. Winter and her daughter were much touched, 
and inclined to be melancholy till Jessie roused them 
by saying, " Come, Alice, it's getting late, and unless 
we finish exactly at five, we shan't be ready for Robin 
when he comes. Oh, I'm so glad you can go out at 
last!" 

Mr. Eaton did things handsomely, and having made 
up his mind to lend the chair, he let it go so furnished 
with air-cushions that when Mrs. Winter packed Alice 
into it, she felt quite sure that anything like jolting 
was out of the question, so snugly and softly was she 
settled. "Oh, I do wish you could come, mother," 
said Alice, when everything was ready. 

"So do I, dear; but I shall be happy at home 
thinking of you." And her look of contentment quite 
agreed with her words. 

"Where shall we go, Alice ?" 

"Where you like. Miss Jessie." 

" Oh, I don't mind." 

" Well, then, please, let it be where I can see the 
church." 

" Oh, yes, I know a first-rate walk ; and we must 
go right past the church to reach it. You know, 
Robin, the fields behind our house, and then up the 
lane to Lowford Bridge." 

"Ay, miss." 

Alice's great desire to see the church arose partly 
from the fact that the toy-shop was only divided from 



56 THE BATH CHAIR. 

the church}-ard by a row of houses, so near it that 
they hid the church from view ; and though the bells 
sometimes sounded rather deafening to her aching 
head, and she could see the old tower quite close out 
of her bedroom window, she knew nothing more about 
it. The church stood just behind the market-place, 
on the side nearest the hills; a narrow footway led 
between two houses into the churchyard, and up to 
the porch ; but, as that entrance was guarded with 
posts, it was necessary to take Alice in her chair from 
the back of the house round the other side of the 
church, and by this means she had much the best 
view of it ; and, as she saw it first through its leafy 
screen of chestnuts in bloom, she was much delighted; 
so that, as she was wheeled slowly, and ended her 
survey with a good look at the ivy-covered tower, 
which was much older than the rest of the buildings 
she said to Jessie that it was much prettier than she 
had expected to find it. On the other side of the 
road was the stream, commonly called, in north 
country fashion, "the beck;" there was a water-mill 
opposite, and the wheel was turning round, and dash- 
ing the water into showers of spray, most cool and 
beautiful to look at, and refreshing to listen to. 

"What does it remind you of?" asked Jessie, 
archly ; and Alice smiled, for that grand secret about 
John and Charlotte was the mainspring of their daily 
work, and they enjoyed it exceedingly. 




She ended her stirvey with a i^ood look at the ivy-covered tower, which wag mnch older 
than the rest of the hniliUng.'—Page 56. 



THE BATH CHAIR. $7 

Robin stayed by the chestnut-trees a little while, to 
let Alice watch the water-mill, and then they came to 
the high black palings of the vicarage garden. Great 
masses of lilac blossom reared themselves sweetly 
above the dingy woodwork, and laburnums drooped 
their golden branches over it; the door was open, 
and the girls saw Kenrick at work among the vege- 
tables, so they asked Robin to go on, fearing that 
Mr. Eaton might be somewhere near. 

They soon left the road, and, turning to the left, 
-entered a field, radiantly green after yesterday's rain ; 
there were plenty of sheep and lambs, a few cows, and 
a hen, with a brood of little fluffy chickens just escaped 
from their coop. It was the field where the larks and 
the thrushes sang, and disturbed Jessie's morning 
studies ; and she was no sooner in it than she called 
out : '* There, Alice, that is our garden, and our house 
beyond it, just across the beck; oh! and there's 
mamma, and — no — ^yes, it is — baby with her. Oh, 
Robin, come to the bank, do ! " 

So Alice was wheeled to the side of the stream, and 
over it came Mrs. Marshall's pleasant voice, asking 
kindly how she was, and if she found the chair easy.^ 

" Oh, it is delightful, thank you, ma'am ; and the 
fresh air is so pleasant." 

"You must mind and not take cold. Jessie, be 
careful not to be late, because it's some time since 
Alice was out of doors." 



$8 THE BATH CHAIR. 

All at once, Fred in his boat shot past ; and this 
took off little Lucy's attention, so that Jessie received 
no answers to all her sisterly speeches, and felt rather 
disappointed that she could not show their little pet 
to advantage as she thought ; but to Alice's mind the 
little legs in their white socks, the fair plump face 
under her limp quilted hat, and the pretty broken ac- 
cents in which she called her mother's attention to 
Fred in his boat were charming, and she Wcis eloquent 
in her praises as they moved on. They had a good 
view of the backs of houses, red roofs and green gar* 
dens ; some with apple-trees showering down their 
rose-tinted petals, and pear-trees covered with fragrant 
snow, while here and there clumps of lilacs, with 
laburnums and pink-thorn, gave a warm colouring to 
the pretty, home-like picture. How pleasant and fresh 
it was after the close little room ! and Alice, to whom 
God's loving care was an ever-present thought, gave 
Him silent thanks as she lay back in her chair. 

When another field had been crossed, they turned 
into the lane leading to Lowford. It was wide, and 
very green, though in the middle rather uneven, with 
two or three different cart-tracks ; so Robin wheeled 
Alice to the side. This lane was bordered with high 
hedges, which were quite rarities in that part of the 
world, where the farmers like to make use of every 
inch of land, and clip and cut the hedges to the lowest 
reasonable height ; so that on this account Jessie ad- 



THE BATH CHAIR. $9 

vocated the walk, as being very much after her own 
mind. The hawthorn was losing the first purity of 
its whiteness, but it was still pretty, and Alice said 
she could quite imagine how it had looked a fortnight 
ago. Lowford church was before them, at the dis- 
tance of half a mile ; and this, and another tower 
in the distance, Robin pointed out, while Jessie reached 
up to the hedge to gather some May for Alice. They 
passed two or three cottages standing by the side of 
the lane, and then the one-arched bridge came in 
sight ; and when they reached it the chair was stopped^ 
and, while the old man leaned over a gate, to talk 
with a friendly cottager, smoking his evening pipe, 
Jessie did the honours of her favourite spot, and 
showed Alice how much wider the beck was here than 
by the garden at home, and how winding it was, and 
pointed out the tall, yellow flags among the rushes, 
and the deep orange-coloured flowers of the marsh- 
marigold, growing close by the water's edge, and dip- 
ping their leaves and buds into the stream. But these 
were nothing to the forget-me-nots, large and blue, 
with pinky buds, which clustered among the weeds 
and nettles. Jessie stood poised uncomfortably on a 
loose stone, holding fast by the bridge with one hand, 
while with the other she gathered them, and Alice 
was very glad when the delicate blossoms were safely 
in her hand and Jessie was none the worse. 

Remembering Mrs. Marshall's caution, the party 



60 THE BATH CHAIR. 

turned homewards in reasonable time, and then it 
was that Alice first saw the Wolds. For some time 
she was occupied with the flowers in her lap, and 
watching a milkmaid who came gaily along swinging 
her pails and singing a lively tune ; but she had passed 
them and the flowers were arranged to suit her at last, 
and then she looked up and saw before her the rough 
rugged hills, looking solemn and peaceful under the 
quiet evening sky. They were very steep and quite 
bare, except that each of the few houses had a clump 
of trees behind it ; the farm-yards with their stacks 
had a look of plenty even at the distance of three 
miles, and the church towers stood out square and 
grey on the hill-side. At the foot of the hills, a dark 
fir-wood stretched for miles, and its dense blackness 
showed off" the Wolds to perfection. In detail, the 
picture was one very pleasant to look upon, but taken 
as a whole the first impression was simply of grandeur 
and strength, and the thought came into Alice's mind, 
" I will lift up my eyes unto the hills, from whence 
Cometh my help." She often saw the Wolds again in 
all their varied beauty, but her first thought in con- 
nection with them was an abiding one, and always full 
of comfort and peace. 

"Well, Alice, are they as good as the Downs?" 
asked Jessie at last, after watching silently for some 
minutes the look of interest on the invalid girls thin 
face. 



THE BATH CHAIR. 6l 

" Oh, Miss Jessie, I don't know, they are quite 
different. The Downs are round, and smooth, and 
green, and these are rough and bare, but I do think 
them very beautiful," she said. 

They reached the toy-shop as the curfew was ring- 
ing, and Mrs. Winter saw a very happy face when she 
.came to help her daughter out of the chair : she was 
very tired and went straight to bed, and to her 
mother's great delight slept better than she had done 
for months. 

The walks were continued every evening, and at 
the end of a week Mr. Marshall went to see his patient. 
He found her decidedly better, but he told Mrs. Winter 
that he thought in future it would do her more good if 
she could go out in the morning. " It is all the same 
to old Robin," he said, " and he is a capital old fellow 
to talk to, that is to any one who can understand his 
brogue, and he is a thoroughly careful, attentive old 
man, I am sure Alice will find him all that is kind." 

Mrs. Winter looked rather blank, so did Alice, but 
they felt the wisdom of the doctor's advice and tried 
to speak cheerfully; but it must be owned that the first 
lonely stroll was rather dreaded, partly because the old 
man spoke with so broad an accent that Alice could 
with difficulty understand him, and then she felt sure 
she should miss Jessie greatly. 

As to Jessie, her distress at first was great, but her 
mamma reminded her that even if the evening walks 



62 THE BATH CHAIR. 

had been continued, she could not always have been 
with Alice ; and this made her conscious of the fact 
that lately she had rather neglected her brothers, and 
had made spending the evening with Alice such a 
point of necessity, that it really rather interfered with 
those home duties it was so needful for her to attend 
to; so she soon saw the sense and wisdom of the 
arrangement, and that afternoon ministered consola- 
tion to Alice as well as she could. 

The next morning, at half-past eight, Robin and his 
charge left the town, and went in the direction of the 
fir-woods. Alice was very shy at first, but presently 
she plucked up courage, and asked the reason why 
Robin had a large old basket slung on his. arm ? 

" It's to bring back ferns fra the woods, miss ; 
Mrs. Mcintosh, up at yon grammar school, is making 
a rockwork, and she wants it to be real handsome, so 
I made so bold as to bring this here basket with me, 
and belike I shall find enew to fill it ?** 

" Does the Osmunda grow in these woods .?" 

*'The what, miss ? Vm rather dull of hearin'." 

" The Royal fern, which flowers — the Osmunda, its 
name is." 

*' Nay, I can't say, miss ; I nobbut knows them sorts 
as grows in yon fir-woods, and as to when they flowers, 
if they do at all, I can't say whether it's on a Mundah 
or a Toosdah.** 

" The rain, two days ago, I should think has made 
the woods pleasant." 



THE BATH CHAIR. 63 

"Ay, 'twas a featish sup to be sure ; how it did siie 
down ! it teamed off Hospital roof and filled pancheon 
after pancheon, while Bill Roberts and me was beside 
whersens to know what to do wi' it ; for ye see, miss, 
it doan*t do to gie it the run of the garden, it makes 
so much clat on the foot-pads and sich." 

Alice gathered the sense out of this labyrinth of 
unknown terms, and then asked whether he thought 
Mrs. Mcintosh's rock work would be a pretty one ? 

" Oh, it frames well ; it 'ill be sightly enew come 
time — but we must wait while next summer." 

They had now come to a field where some oxen 
were grazing, and seeing Alice look rather timidly 
towards them, Robin said, "Niver thou fear, miss, 
them beeast weeant hurt the', doan^t the^ be scared 
now." 

They went through a field of what Robin called 
^'turmits," then through one of "whoats," and then 
reached a lane covered with furze and blackberry- 
bushes, which ran parallel with the hills and with the 
railway too, and Robin said it was " a good place to 
see the treeans fra." 

Once in the wood, under the swaying pine boughs, 
with the early summer sunshine on their straight 
trunks, and making flickering shadows among the 
leaves of the trailing honeysuckle at their roots, Alice 
lay back in a sort of restful dream, while Robin was 
stooping in the ditch after his ferns. It was most 



64 THE BATH CHAIR. 

quiet and peaceful, now and then the birds would sing 
in the hedge-row close by, or the men at work in the 
fields would whistle or call loudly to their horses, 
while quite near from beyond the hedge, where " the 
com was springing fresh and green,'^ a lark carolled 
sweetly as he soared higher and higher till he looked 
only a speck in the deep blue sky. Great lumbering 
humble bees came by with a loud buzz, and the 
beautiful little lady-birds crept up to Alice's white 
fingers and tickled them as they rested on the chair, 
and the soft breeze kept up a gentle murmuring music 
among the trees overhead ; it was a fitting time to 
think of Him whose tender mercies are over all His 
works, and Alice began gently to sing the words Which 
she loved so well. 

" Through all the changing scenes of life 
In trouble and in joy, 
The praises of my God shall still 
My heart and tongue employ." - 

Presently, as Robin still kept in the ditch, she 
undid the apron of her chair, and drawing out her 
crutches which her mother always packed with her,, 
she began swinging herself towards him. It was 
wonderful how much stronger she had grown even in 
one week, and she moved along so lightly over the 
carpet of fir-needles that the old man did not hear her, 
and gave a great start when she said, " How are you 
getting on, Robin ?'' 



THE BATH CHAIR. 6$ 

'' Why, miss, youVe 'most scared me to deead ; 
why, bless you ! did you think old Robin had left you 
to it ? I was coming back very soon. Nay ! doan't 
stand there, or I shan't be easy no ways ; sit ye down 
on the moss here, and I'll soon be done." 

" Oh, don't hurry ; I like to watch you." 

Several roots of hard fern, with its long leaves, lay 
near her mossy seat, with a still greater abundance of 
lady fern ; and after Robin had done tugging at the 
bank, he laid down triumphantly a magnificent hart's 
tongue, with long drooping fronds, wet with dipping 
in the little stream that trickled by the woodside. 

"What beauties you have found, Robin: oh! how 
fine they are ! that must be because the ground is so 
damp." 

" Ay, to be sure it is : them ferns is like some sorts 
of the Lord's people; gie 'em sunshine, and they 
droops directly, but nobbut put 'em in the shade, and 
keep 'em moist wi' the water of affliction, and nowt 
can grow better. Well, the Lord knows best, be it 
plants or folks, and it 'ud make His work easier, it 
seems to me, if them as shade is gqod for 'ud take to 
it kindly; for look at these here ferns, can owt be 
more pleasant to look upon ? but Mrs. Mcintosh, she's 
for covering yon rockwork wi' 'em, sun or shade, 
and ivery time a sup o' rain comes, she says, ' They 
are coming on finely now;' and then comes down on 
me, when the sun beats on 'em, to ask me why they 

5 



66 THE BATH CHAIR. 

doan't look cool like the others? But some folks 
niwer sees the fitness of things ; no, nor niwer will, 
that's my opinion, till two Sundahs comes together ; 
and they worrits every one whilst." 

" I shall like to think of what you said about some 
plants growing best in the shade, Robin ; it is very 
-lice to think so." 

" Ay, sure ; youVe your cross, miss, like the rest on 
us ; but niwer you fear, miss ; if youVe the Lord's 
own bairn. He'll gie ye what's good for you, and as 
for owt else, why the next world 'ill make this square. 
But, come, it's time to be turning home, I'm thinking. 
Now for the basket. I must plant them ferns to- 
night, they weean't bear keeping while to-morrow." 



CHAPTER V. 



'''Well, Alice, how did you get on with Robin?' 
asked Jessie, as she entered Mrs. Winter's parlour that 
afternoon. 

" Oh, very well indeed. Miss Jessie ; I think he is 
<:harming. He dug up ever so many ferns for M-s 
Mcintosh's rockwork, and I sat on the moss by the 
bank and watched him, and he was very talkative." 

" So you don't think you shall mind going in the 
mornings?" 

" Oh, no, it was very fresh and nice. Of course, it 
would be nicer to have you with me," she added, with 
a grateful look ; " but then I did have you all last 
week, and you could not be with me always." 

" No, and papa says you will get well much faster 
if you are out in the morning air." 

" Does he really think I shall get well? I know 
he thinks I shall get stronger ; but to be well — oh ! I 
<:an't imagine what it feels like." 

s— ^ 



68 PROGRESS. 

" He was telling mamma last night of a similar 
case. It was a poor boy. He was ill for a long whil e 
and obliged to walk with crutches ; but, after a time, 
he left them off." 

" I was so tired when I came home this morning 
that mother only let me eat my dinner, and then I 
fell fast asleep, and only woke a few minutes ago. 
Wasn^titlazy?" 

*' Not at all,*' interposed Mrs. Winter, who had just 
come in ; " it was the best thing possible, Miss Jessie, 
and so your papa would say, I am sure ; sleep and 
sunshine and fresh air are the best of medicines." 

Here the shop-bell rang, and the girls began their 
work. Alice was steadily advancing in all she was 
learning, and she had a most earnest and patient little 
teacher. Sums became easier, both to herself and 
Alice, as she explained them in easy words, which 
made the difficulties disappear with wonderful rapidity, 
and the necessity for choosing simple terms in which 
to make her meaning clear was a great help to Jessie 
in arranging her thoughts, and the result was that she 
was quicker over her own arithmetic ; and the actual 
benefit of* this appeared the next morning. 

It was the dreaded day, when extra parsing and 
sums were Jessie's portion ; but when, as usual, she 
took up her slate and book to receive orders, to her 
astonishment. Miss Morgan said, "We read Words- 
worth this morning ; you can bring your book, and 
join the others." 



PROGRESS. 69 

Jessie opened her eyes, but, beyond a grateful 
•"Thank you," no remark was made. That Miss 
Morgan felt her improved was evident, and Jessie 
would not spoil her satisfaction by exclaiming ; and, 
though the governess would on no account have had 
her aware of it, the poetry class was quite a different 
thing when Jessie was there, with her musical voice 
and expressive rendering of the poet's meaning, very 
unlike the droning of the other girls, who required so 
often to be reminded of stops and emphasis that the 
beauty of the poetry was entirely lost. 

Jessie spent a happy hour, and then rushed home 
into her mother's bedroom. " Oh, mamma," she ex- 
claimed, "what do you think ?" But there she stopped, 
for little Lucy, having managed to get a large thorn 
into her finger wjiile inspecting the gooseberry-bushes, 
was under treatment for its extraction. But, as soon 
as this business was over, and Lucy had run off to set 
free the kitten she had tied up in her doll's perambu- 
lator, Jessie began again. 

" Oh, mamma, just fancy ! something happened at 
school this morning that has only happened once this 
half-year. Can't you guess ? Now do ! " 

" Miss Morgan praised you for steadiness, Jessie V 

"No, mamma, not quite that; but it's the same 
thing. When ^ I took up my slate, expecting three 
horrid sums, and an extra page of that dreadful 
parsing, she told me to read poetry instead, and I 
did ; wasn't it fun .?" 



/O PROGRESS. 

" I am very glad, indeed, to hear it, dear ; it shows 
that you have been successful in your efforts. I an> 
more pleased than I can say." And Mrs* Marshall 
gave her little girl a kiss. 

Jessie was so happy that she could not help shed- 
ding a few tears ; but little Lucy's voice under the 
window, asking for " Jettie to tum and play with her," 
soon dispersed them, and she had a good game in the 
garden before dinner. 

As they were sitting at work in the afternoon,. 
Jessie said to Mrs. Marshall, "Mamma, I'm in a. 
puzzle, and I want you to help me. Which is the 
best thing to do, to go away from a temptation, or to- 
fight with it.?" 

" It very much depends on circumstances, Jessie ;. 
but if you can tell me the case in point, perhaps I can. 
help you." 

" Well, mamma, you know my room is next the 
boys*, and they make such a racket when they are 
getting up as you never heard. It's been a great deal 
worse since Fred slept there ; and now I get up early 
it is such a bother. They talk and make such a noise 
that I don't know how to do my lessons, and between 
them and the boys, I have such a headache, even if I 
do manage to get through my work ; and this morn- 
ing there were five mistakes in my French exercise, 
which I am sure I should not have made if I had beea 
quiet." 



PROGRESS. 71 

"And had you thought of any way of altering 
this?" 

" Yes, mamma. You know the little lumber-room, 
that's half in the roof. I thought, if you didn't mind, 
I could take my things there. There are plenty of 
boxes to write on ; besides, there is only a skylight, 
and that's a good thing." 

" Why ! does the window interfere with lessons ?" 

" I try not to let it, but it does. I can't help hear- 
ing old Jackson when he is milking the cows ; and 
then his grandchildren play about ; and the hen and 
chickens, and everything else. Oh ! it is so difficult, 
you can't think." 

" Yes, I can think quite easily ; and I believe the 
little lumber-room would be nice for you. If there 
was no other place, it would be right for you to 
struggle on with your difficulties ; but, as it is, there 
is really no need, and I know it is very hard to study 
in the midst of a noise. So you can have the little 
room, Jessie." 

" Oh, mamma, thank you so much ; I was afraid 
you would think it was cowardly and silly of me to 
want my work made easier, and that it would be 
wrong to try to make it so." 

" Temptation is never in itself a good thing, and 
the very prayer, ' Lead us not into temptation,* shows 
that it is right to avoid it. Of course, when you cannot 
help it, that is another thing. But I am sure it will be 



72 PROGRESS. 

right for you to have the lumber-room ; so you may 
take possession to-morrow, and study with a free 
mind." 

" Thank you, dear mamma ; you always help me." 

" My dear child, anything I can do for you, you 
know how happy I am to do it ; and when I see you 
really combatting your faults in the right spirit, I 
cannot tell you how thankful I am, and how glad to 
assist you." 

So it was indeed, for the next morning when Jessie, 
after mounting the three steep steps, opened the 
lumber-room door, instead of a chaos of boxes, she 
saw a little round table under the sky-light, and a 
chair by it ; the boxes were piled up neatly on one 
side, the floor had been washed, and on the wall just 
opposite the chair was the text, painted in blue and 
gold, " Be not weary in well-doing." 

Jessie felt sure it was her mother*s work, it was so 
beautifully done ; but when had she found time to 
paint it ? she was always so busy. But how pleasant 
it was to see it there, and to be reminded of that ever 
watchful love which was so constantly around her! 
Jessie felt, as she laid her books on the table, that she 
would not grieve that loving heart by her faults if she 
could help it again, and there were the brave en- 
couraging words to strengthen her in her difficulties. 

The table was old and worm-eaten, but it did not 
" jiggit" as the one in her bedroom was accustomed 



PROGRESS. 73 

to do, and that was a great comfort, and to be shut 
out from noise was of all things agreeable, so she 
5et to work with a will, and had no headache this 
morning when she ran downstairs. 

Her mother was in the breakfast room, and Jessie 
flew up to her, " Oh ! mamma, thank you so much for 
that beautiful text, I do like it so, and it's so nice just 
opposite where I sit." 

Mrs. Marshall allowed herself to be hugged 
thoroughly, and did not check her impulsive little 
daughter's expressions of affection by telling her not 
to rumple her collar, which really might perhaps have 
been excusable, for it was beautifully smooth and 
white, and Jessie's arms were unscrupulous and quite 
indifferent to the consequences likely to follow their 
tight grasp of her mother's neck ; but what were 
starch and limp collars to affection and perfect confi- 
dence ? Mrs. Marshall would have said ; so she not 
only submitted with a good grace, but returned the 
embrace and said, " How do you know I did it, 
Jessie ?" 

" Oh, but I'm sure you did — it is so neat ; and be- 
sides no one but you and papa knows what text would 
be the best one for me. Oh, mamma, when did you 
doit?" 

" Oh, by degrees — a little at a time. I began it 
a fortnight ago, and finished it yesterday. I should 
have given it to you last night, but when the lumber- 



74 PROGRESS. 

room was decided oh, I thought it would be a plea- 
sant surprise, so I put it up in the evening, when you 
were out walking." 

" And the table and chair and everything so clean ;. 
oh ! it is the most charming little room." 

" Jane would wash it, when I asked her to help me 
to arrange the boxes more comfortably ; she said she 
was not going to have Miss Jessie 'lost i* dust,' so 
you may thank her too." 

" And you won't tell the boys .?" 

" Oh, no, I should not think of such a thing — mon- 
keys ! — where are they ? Oh, I do believe Fred is in 
the boat. Run, Jessie, and tell him it is nearly time 
for prayers ; take baby with you, it is lovely in the 
garden." 

It would be quite impossible to say how much 
Alice enjoyed her mornings in the open air. Old 
Robin was very careful of her, and anxious to show 
her the prettiest walks, and he was so thoroughly 
acquainted with the neighbourhood of Beckford that 
he could take her to many a pleasant shady nook 
which, with a more indifferent guide, she would never 
have reached. Sometimes he stopped the chair at 
cottage doors to let her admire fully the brilliant 
geraniums filling the small diamond-paned windows, 
and every little ragged child he met seemed to be a 
humble friend, and if his only greeting was — as it 
happened generally to be — " Now, bairn, how art the' ?**" 



PROGRESS. 75. 

it was given with a tone of interest that was in itself 
heart-warming. Mrs. Mcintosh's garden was much 
on his mind, and he confided to Alice that she directed 
him so many times to do one thing, that he quite be- 
lieved she did not think him " reeght sharp," and this 
weighed upon him, though Alice said it was very likely- 
only the lady's way. They passed the grammar 
school one morning, on their way to a wood in search 
of fir-cones, which Robin wanted for the purpose of 
making baskets, and although it was only nine o'clock 
there was Mrs. Mcintosh working in the garden. 
Seeing Robin with the chair, she came to the gate and 
asked him to wheel it in. ' 

Alice was exceedingly shy, consciousness of de- 
formity made her shrink from strangers, and this lady 
in particular had such a loud voice, and talked so 
fast that Alice would have been as well pleased if she 
had been allowed to go on in peace. But the tones 
sounded softer in the open air than in the little toy 
shop, and Mrs. Mcintosh's kind manner soon set her 
at her ease. 

" Robin, I want you to see the plants Mr. Mcintosh 
brought from Lincoln last night; there are some 
geraniums and calceolarias and a few verbenas ; do 
you think it is too early to set them ? it ought not to- 
be, it is the middle of June." 

Robin shook his head — " I should let 'em wait 
while next week, ma'am, the ground was white wi* 



j6 PROGRESS. 

frost this morning, and a vast of plants is spoiled by- 
being set too soon — let *em bide a wee." 

" I was afraid you would say so, for I am quite 
longing to see the beds planted, but 1*11 take your 
advice," she said graciously. 

" Yon*s the rockwork, miss," said Robin, pointing to 
it, and Mrs. Mcintosh told him to take the chair near 
it, and when he had called attention to all the ferns 
growing in crevices and drooping over the rough 
stones and shells, the lady asked him to go and look 
at the plants, and meanwhile she would take care of 
Alice. 

She was very kind and showed her the best points 
of view from the garden, then she inquired if she felt 
stronger, and when Alice said she always walked now 
a little every morning, she invited her indoors, and 
took her to the drawing-room, where was a footstool 
she wished to match, and she asked Alice if she 
thought her mother had anything like it or that would 
contrast with it } 

Alice thought she had, and the lady, after saying 
she would call about it, drew^her attention to a case 
of rare ferns in the window. They were very beautiful, 
and Alice admired them greatly. " Mrs. Marshall has 
some finer than these," said Mrs. Mcintosh. 

What a pretty room it was ! Everything in such 
exquisite taste; flowers, pictures, and books. Alice 
Jiad never been in such a place before, and she was 
very much pleased. 



PROGRESS. Tl 

" Do you like books ?" 

" Yes, ma'am, I'm very fond of reading." 

" Do you care for hymns ?" 

" Oh, yes ; I love them dearly." 

" Well, I will lend you this if you like," taking up 
a handsomely bound volume lying on the table; "there 
are a few new ones with many old ones, and no doubt 
you will find some favourites." 

Alice thanked her, and then Robin appeared at one 
of the windows, wondering much to see the empty 
chair. 

Mrs. Mcintosh stepped through the open French 
window into the garden, and Alice followed. 

" Well, Robin, what do you think of my plants V 

" The geraniums are rare handsome plants, and so 
are the small ones ; but they calcelaries I doan*t think 
much to." 

"Ah, well, we must see what can be done with 
them," and Mrs. Mcintosh, who was helping Alice 
into her chair, did not look at all displeased at the 
old man's plainness of speech. 

After leaving the grammar school they crossed 
the beck, which wound about so much that few places 
could be reached without going near it, and then they 
turned into the fields bordered by a wood, where wild 
roses were blooming in luxuriance near the path. 
When the end of their stroll was reached Robin went 
after his fir-cones, and Alice, taking her crutches. 



78 PROGRESS. 

moved contentedly about; presently, down by the 
ditch sides, she found some of the green leathery 
lichen and the grey cups she had noticed in Mrs. 
Mcintosh's fern-glass, and sitting down on the bank, she 
began to gather it carefully, for she remembered the 
speech about Mrs. Marshall's ferns, and she thought 
perhaps an offering of this lovely lichen might be 
acceptable. Presently, poking with her crutch among 
the undergrowth of brambles, she discovered some 
beautiful feathery moss, which she added to her store, 
and then, feeling rather tired, she got into the chair 
again and took out her book. It was very quiet and 
pleasant in the wood ; looking upwards she could, 
through the dark pine branches, catch here and there 
a glimpse of deep-blue sky, and the wood-pigeons 
sang sweetly overhead. She was lying back on her 
pillows enjoying the sweet peace of the time before 
looking at the hymns, when all at once she heard a 
footstep, and, looking straight before her, she saw the 
vicar. 

Never before had she met him, and a brilliant 
colour flushed her cheeks as he came up, for she 
could not but remember whose chair she was in, and 
she feared it might be painful to him to see her. And, 
truly, Mr. Eaton, would rather have walked ten miles 
in another direction than have had the encounter; 
but, after a moment's hesitation, he came forward, 
saying kindly — 




'Presently, puking with her crutvli anions the iui'.lor^au\vth of braiublos, she discovered 
some beautiful feathcrj- moss.'— iVj/c 7S. 



8o PROGRESS. 

"Yes, sir; and grammar, and biography, and 
arithmetic ; and yesterday she brought a little book 
about science, there are snow crystals in it, and so 
many things I wanted to know. Oh ! I can*t tell 
you what pleasure she gives me." 

" Ah ! your life must be very trying ; it is sad for 
one so young to be so unable to do as others, but it 
is comforting to think of the words ' What I do thou 
knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.' " 

"Yes, sir ; indeed, it is." 

"And 'Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth," 
that is another favourite text of mine." 

" Yes, sir ; oh, indeed, I think it helps me more 
than anything, it would be so very hard to bear if we 
were not sure it is sent in love, and that ' all things 
work together for good to them that love God,' that 
comforts me very much." 

" Yes ; and God lets many things help ys, by the 
way. I mean, supposing life looks like a gloomy fir^ 
wood, there are flowers and mosses by the path 
through it." 

" Yes ; and always the blue sky above." 

"I suppose you are not able to exert yourself 
much.?" 

" I can do much more than I did, but now Miss 
Jessie and I have a plan. Mr. Marshall thinks I shall 
be pretty strong by next year, and then I want to 
carry it out ; I should like to ask you about it, sir, if 
I may .?" 



PROGRESS. 8 1 

Mr. Eaton gave willing consent He had been so 
wrapped up in his own sorrow for his great loss that 
lately no one had brought any grief or perplexity to 
him, and while he regretted it and felt it was his own 
fault, it was inexpressibly comforting to him to see 
Alice's dark eyes looking up to him as if sure of 
sympathy. He listened attentively while she detailed 
her scheme (leaving out only that part which related 
to her sister), and when she finished by asking " Do 
you really think it might succeed ?" he answered 
kindly, " I feel sure it would ; Beckford has no school 
for little children, and I am sure it needs one ; where 
would you have the school-rpom ?" 

Alice explained. 

" Capital ! well, Alice, I will say all I can for you." 

"Thank you, sir; but please don't mention it at 
present ; everything is so uncertain, and if I should be 
ill again, it would be no use." 

" Oh, but I think you will get strong in time ; you 
look already much better than when I first saw 
you." 

" I am, sir, as strong again ; it's all the fresh air," 
she added, feeling that if she might not thank her new 
friend, she would at least let him know that she felt 
the benefit of his kindness, and though he said nothing 
in reply, he did not look displeased. 

When Robin came up a few minutes later, he was 
much astonished to see the clergyman sitting by Alice 

6 



82 PROGRESS. 

talking away, and he set down his basket of fir- 
cones, before speaking, he was so taken by sur- 
prise. 

" Well, Robin, at your basket-work again ?" 

" Ay ! sir, yon bairns of Dick's takes a sight of doin' 
for, and an honest penny niwer cooms amiss." 

" Let me see, Robin, how many grandchildren have 
you ? Thirteen ?" 

" Nay, sir, coom ! there's nobbut eleven on 'em, lads 
and lasses/' 

" Who buys your baskets }" 

" Oh, the quality, mostly, but some of the shops 
takes 'em too, and onnybody as sees 'em in the 
streets ; I sold a vast on 'em last year." 

When the chair moved homewards, Mr. Eaton 
walked by its side for some little time talking to the 
old man ; he left it before they reached the town, and 
when he bade Alice good morning, she felt she had 
found another friend. 

That evening Jessie was tying up her white pinks, 
which just then were filling the garden with their 
• delicious fragrance, when a sound, as of the tap of 
crutches made her turn her head, and there behind 
her was Alice ; she could at first scarcely believe her 
eyes. " How ever did you come .^" she asked, when 
she found her voice. 

" Oh, I walked down ;" and though she spoke 
lightly, Jessie knew it must have cost her something 



PROGRESS. 83 

to cross the market-place, and come past all the shops 
in High Street, and she honoured l)er accordingly. 

" Look, Miss Jessie, I brought home the window- 
blinds," and she opened her hand and displayed some 
.silver, "won't it be a nice nest-egg ?" 

" Oh, yes, then you think you can save it ?" 

" Yes, mother says the shop seems likely to answer, 
and if it does, all I earn myself we can put by, and call 
it * The School fund/ I haven't settled what to get 
with this, I thought of the stove, but I think it would 
be better to put it by and wait ; Mrs. Mcintosh has 
been since tea and given me an order too." 

" Oh, that's nice, what is it .?" 

"A footstool ; mother has no patterns that will do 
to go with one she has in her drawing-room, so I am 
to have it to copy." 

" That's capital ! but come, let me show you the 
garden." 

" Is this yours ?" 

" Yes ; are not the pinks sweet ? and look, the roses 
are in bud." 

" How nice the sweet briar is ! and what a beautiful 
lupin!" 

" Yes, but come and look at the carnations." 

The garden was an old-fashioned one, there was no 
distinction between flower and kitchen-gardens, and 
the carrots waved their feathery plumes amid purple 
stocks and stately white lilies, while great trailing 

6—2 



84 PROGRESS. 

vegetable marrows spread their leaves near a bed of 
musk, and half hid from sight some blue larkspur 
just coming into bloom. 

" I like that fuchsia hedge." 

" Yes, in a few days it will be very pretty ; and there 
are the strawberries beyond; but they are only in 
flower now." 

" Is that the summer-house V 

*' Yes ; come and look at it." 

It was a wooden arbour, tarred outside ; its inner 
walls were covered with pictures of all sorts and 
subjects ; it was rather close and hot, and the two 
girls soon left it and sat on the steps leading down to 
the beck. 

" There, Alice, don't the fields look pretty r said 
Jessie. 

" Yes ; how well I remember that first time in the 
chair, Miss Jessie !" 

" So do I ; but how much stronger you are now F 
the idea of your walking down here ! Oh ! would you 
like to see the puppies .?" 

" Oh, yes." 

" Well, come along." 

Here Mrs. Marshall came out of the house. 
"Jessie," she said, "you must not tire Alice; why 
don't you sit down instead of dragging her about ?" 

"Oh, mamma, I'm only going to show her the 
puppies : but there's a chair under that tree, sit down,. 
Alice, I'll be back in a minute." 



PROGRESS. - 85 

Very grave and solemn looked the two little dogs, 
-as Jessie held them in her arms, so long were their 
mouths, and so much did they tremble, that Alice 
thought she had never seen such funny little creatures, 
and laughed heartily.^ 

" Oh, they are great beauties, I assure you," said 
Jessie, " though I must confess I don't see it myself 
yet, but they will improve, I dare say. Oh ! must you 
be going ?" as Alice took up her crutches. 

"Yes, I think so, I told mother I would not be 
long." 

"Well, come and look at the chickens first, that 
won't take you out of the way, oh ! and there are 
Fred's rabbits and the jackdaw : but you must come 
another day, and see everything : good night." 

" Good night. Miss Jessie," and Alice turned home- 
wards. It had been a great effort to her to walk 
through the town, and one or two rude boys had called 
her Hunchback, but she was glad she had made a 
beginning, and when she entered the little shop her 
•eyes were so bright, and her whole appearance so 
different from what it had been a few weeks ago, that 
Mrs. Winter said : " Alice, I do believe you are growing 
fat." 

" I am growing taller, that I really do think, 
mother." 

" I shall see you a strong girl before long, please 
God," said the anxious mother ; and truly, there 
seemed every prospect that so it would be. 



CHAPTER VI. 

ON THE SANDS. 

It was drawing near the end of the school term ; the 
summer holidays would begin in less than a fortnight^ 
and the gi^ls at Miss Morgan's were expecting daily 
to be told that the time had been fixed for their 
annual trip to the sea-side. This was occasionally 
talked of some days before the announcement was 
made to them, for Miss Morgan held a theory that it 
was foolish to give them time to look forward to the 
pic-nic, and thus unsettle them for lessons; but it 
may be questioned whether the uncertainty did not 
unsettle them quite as much. Jessie had been so. 
much steadier lately that the girls complained they 
could never secure her for a few minutes' chat, but 
one morning, when school work was over, and she was 
putting on her hat to go home, Jane Powell said to- 
her, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "Jessie, I 
believe we are going to Saltby the day after to- 
morrow." 



ON THE SANDS. 8/ 

" Oh, then. Miss Morgan has settled it ?" 

" I believe so ; I heard Fraulein say something to 
Miss Stansfield about missing Thursday's lessons, 
that's all ; but I'm sure it's time we went, as we go 
home on Saturday week." 

" Yes ; it is really getting late. I hope it will be 
fine." 

" What shall you wear, Jessie ?" this matter of 
dress being on all occasions of paramount importance 
to school-girls generally. 

" I don't think I am going." 

" Not going ? nonsense, Jessie : why not .?" 

" I have something else to do." 

" Oh, but you must go ; you always have been ; 
don't you want to go ?" 

** I might, perhaps, if things were different ; as it is, 
I prefer to stay behind." 

" What things ? oh, Jessie, how tiresome !" 

" What's the matter .?" asked Miss Stansfield. 

" Why, Jessie says she does not think she is going 
to Saltby this time, and it won't be half the fun with- 
out her." 

" But, Jane, has Miss Morgan spoken to you yet .?" 

" No ; but then I can guess ; besides, if we are 
going at all, I am sure it's time." 

"Well, don't settle things rashly; Miss Morgan 
will be sure to speak in good time. Jessie, will you 
ask your mamma the address of that parlour-maid 
she was speaking about a few evenings ago V 



88 ON THE SANDS. 

" Yes ; will it do if I bring it to-morrow ?" 

" Quite well ; good-bye, Jessie ; now, Jane, come 
out under the trees, the house is insufferably warm." 

"Mamma," said Jessie that afternoon, "when Miss 
Morgan asks for me to go to Saltby with them this 
week, will you decline ?" 

" But why, my dear ?** 

" Because it is the very first time anything has come 
in the way of Alice*s lessons, and I should not like to 
shirk them for the first pleasure that would interfere 
with them. You know, although I have gone to her 
every afternoon all these weeks, there has not been 
one interruption ; I have been out to tea three times, 
but then each time I did not go till six, and nothing 
else has happened ; so that I really should not like 
to leave her for the first thing that comes." 

"I quite understand you, Jessie, and although I 
should be very sorry for you to miss your day at the 
sea-side, I think you are right ; it was what we agreed 
on when you began, was it not ?*' 

" Ves, mamma ; so that you will make it right with 
Miss Morgan." 

Mrs. Marshall promised to do her best, and Jessie 
felt easier in her mind. This day at the sea-side was 
a good deal for her to give up, but she knew how 
easily trifles had power to turn her aside from her 
duty, and she was on this account the more anxious 
not to neglect Alice ; and, confident in her mamma's 



ON THE SANDS. 89 

powers of making matters smooth with her governess, 
3he dismissed the subject from her mind as well as 
she could. She went out walking with her brothers 
in the evening, and while she was gone. Miss Morgan, 
in all her dignity, knocked at Mr. Marshall's door 
and was shown into the drawing-room. 

" I don't, as a rule, take notice of what children 
jsay, Mrs. Marshall," she began, " but Miss Stansfield 
tells me that it is spoken of in the school that Jessie 
does not intend to accompany us to Saltby this time ; 
can it be true ?'* 

" It is quite true that she has a reason for wishing 
to be excused," and Mrs. Marshall explained the state 
of the case. 

" But do you really mean to say that Jessie has 
Jiad sufficient perseverance to go on teaching that 
poor, deformed girl all these weeks without inter- 
ruption ?" 

"I do, indeed; and what is more, I find it has 
steadied her in other ways," and Mrs. Marshall men- 
tioned the early rising among other things. 

" She has been doubly attentive at school lately ; 
I could not account ^for it ; but I am really very glad 
to know this.*' 

"Yes; I always felt if Jessie would only give 
her mind to anything she undertook she would suc- 
ceed in it, and my great comfort is in the little home- 
duties which she is most careful not to neglect." 



90 ON THE SANDS. 

" But, seriously, I cannot entertain the thought of 
taking the girls without her. Surely this once it 
could not matter, and I am sure Miss Winter would 
see the reason of it." 

" I think we had better not press it. It was an 
understood thing when she undertook Alice that na 
scheme for pleasure should interfere with her self- 
imposed duty> and I cannot feel it would be right for 
her to go back from it." 

" Of course if it is made a matter of principle it 
would not be right to urge her going ; but I am very 
sorry." 

The two ladies talked on for some time, then Miss 
Morgan left, and on Jessie's return, her mother told 
her she did not think anything further would be said 
about it. The next morning at school it was spoken 
of as a settled thing that the expedition was to be on 
the following day, and though Jessie had one or two 
pangs of disappointment, she was, on the whole, quite 
happy to give up the pleasure for the sake of Alice. 

That night as she was going to bed, her mother 
said to her, "Jessie, Miss Morgan has been here again 
this evening, and I hope you will believe we know 
best when I say I think it would be right for you to 
go to-morrow." 

" But, mamma," replied Jessie, much distressed,. 
" what will Alice think ? I am sure we cannot wonder 
if she thinks I only care to teach her when there is no 



ON THE SANDS. 9 1 

pleasure to hinder me, if I go to Saltby, the very first 
time there has been the^least inducement to leave her 
lessons for my own amusement ! Oh ! mamma, must 
I, go ? do you wish it ?" 

" Yes, my darling ; I do wish it very much." 

Jessie had a little struggle with herself before she 
could speak ; then she said, " What shall I do about 
Alice ?" 

" I will go to see Mrs. Winter myself, and I will 
tell her whose doing it is, so don't be unhappy,^ 
darling ; I will call you in good time ; and make up 
yovir mind to enjoy it, dear child ; good night.'* 

In spite of Mrs. Marshall's assurances Jessie felt 
only half sure that she was doing right ; but the 
implicit confidence in her mother's wisdom and kind- 
ness, which had never yet been shaken, came to her 
aid, and when she sat down to a very early breakfast 
the next morning, she looked fairly happy, though 
not so bright as usual. 

Mrs. Marshall was reminding her of her cloak and 
that she must wrap up well during the drive home,, 
when a waggonette, which was one of the carriages 
ordered to take the party, drove up, and Jessie went 
to the window. "There's someone in it, mamma, 
who can it be ?" she said. 

" Look and see." 

" Why it is actually Alice ! now, mamma, whose 
doing is that ? yours, I am sure." 



92 ON THE SANDS. 

" No ; it was Miss Morgan's ; but, come, I have no 
time to tell you about it, Alice will explain it all ; 
now shall you be happy, do you think ?" 

" Oh, yes, yes ; oh ! it is charming — altogether 
delightful ! it could not be better ; and what a lovely 
morning it is !" as if suddenly aware of the fact 

Mrs. Marshall had by this time unfastened the 
street-door, and came out to speak to Alice, who 
looked very bright indeed, and she watched the 
carriage drive away with a light heart. 

As to Jessie, she was in a great state of wonder and 
amazement at Miss Morgan's kindness. "Do you 
mean to say Miss Morgan asked you herself ?" 

" Yes ; she came last evening and told us why you 
had refused." 

"Oh, she shouldn't have done that; I shouldn't 
mind it at all." 

" So she said. But she said, too, she was glad to 
have the opportunity of pleasing us both, and she 
thought it would do me good. Mother likes her very 
much." 

" Does she ? Well, to tell the truth, I don't ; but 
that's nothing." 

" I am rather afraid of the young ladies." 

" Oh, you needn't be ; ther^ are only fourteen of 
them, and they are all very kind, and so are the two 
teachers. Oh, Alice, isn't it fun .^" 

An exceedingly lively party of nine got into the 



ON THE SANDS. 93 

waggonette at Miss Morgan's ; and, as ballast to this 
excitable freight, that stately lady seated herself 
amongst them. Probably thinking that it required 
two teachers to be equal to herself in this respect, she 
requested Fraulein and Miss Stansfield to take charge 
of the remaining five young ladies in a smaller car- 
riage, on the box of which one of the housemaids was 
seated, while cook occupied a similar elevated position 
by the side of the driver of the waggonette. Hampers 
and baskets were then stowed in, and the carriages,, 
each with a pair of horses, set off in style. The 
church clock struck six as they left the town, and they 
were soon driving at a rapid rate through the open 
country. At first, Alice was nearly overwhelmed with 
the united noise of the school-girls' tongues ; but it 
subsided a little after a while, and Jessie, who sat by 
her, was continually addressing some little remark to 
her, for she was very anxious that she should not feel 
neglected. Arrived at the first steep hill, all the oc- 
cupants of the carriages, except Alice, turned out and 
walked, — a kindness, no doubt, which the horses appre- 
ciated, for it was very hard work going up. The early 
morning breeze was delicious, the larks were singing in 
the deep blue sky, and soft curling smoke was rising 
from the cottages they passed. Sweet whiffs of perfume 
from the new mown hay-fields came floating by with 
every breath of wind, and the haymakers in their 
shirt-sleeves, with their forks and rakes, made a pretty 



94 ON THE SANDS. 

rustic picture. As the carriage went slowly up the 
hill, a wide panorama unfolded itself before Alice's 
•eyes ; no less than three counties (at least, great part 
of them) lay spread at her feet. There was very little 
water to relieve the monotony of 'field and wood, but 
here and there a golden gleam was visible, and far to 
the left Lincoln cathedral stood out against the sky, 
and at a greater distance still, the tower of Boston 
church raised its noble head, erect and proud, just 
ivhere a long grey line of sea formed the framework 
of the picture on that side. Alice had summoned 
courage to inquire of the coachman about the cathe- 
dral, and now again begged to be told the name of 
the church, so much taller than everything else she 
saw. 

" That's Boston stump, miss." 
" Why, what do they call it a stump for ?" 
" Why, miss, that's more'n I can say ; but it's what 
they do call it, for all that," 

Alice, left to herself, came to the conclusion that 
this very ugly name had been given to it, because it 
ended abruptly, without a spire. And she was pro- 
bably right. People, better acquainted than Alice 
with St. Botolph's beautiful tower, had come to the 
same conclusion before her. It was fortunate for her 
that the day was so clear, or she could not have seen 
it. They were now nearing the summit of the hill, 
which grew steeper and steeper ; past little streams of 



ON THE SANDS. 95 

water trickling by the roadside, two or three of which 
lower down joined and formed the beck ; past large 
sheep grazing on the green hillsides, past comfortable 
farm-houses, with pleasant, bustling sounds of rural 
life and business, higher up still, and then level ground 
was reached, and they were at the top of the Wolds. 
Then the horses stopped, the walking-party reseated 
themselves, and the chattering began again, Miss 
Morgan joining in occasionally, and sometimes Alice 
as well, and every one seeming as happy as possible. * 
Half-way to Saltby, they changed horses, and soon 
afterwards there was a marked alteration in the face 
of the country, and Miss Morgan told Alice that the 
level land they were now crossing was called the salt- 
marsh. The roads here were very straight and dusty; 
there were no hedges, and the boundaries of the fields 
were broad, deep ditches. There was one on each 
side of the road ; and, at a little distance, there looked 
to be nothii^ between the great, fierce-looking cattle, 
grazir^, and the road itself. Farther on were mustard 
fields, waving yellow in the breeze ; and, still beyond, 
were acres of flax in flower, the slender stalks, with 
their pale grey-blue blossoms, wearing a silvery, sea- 
like tint, as they bent with an easy, graceful motion, 
quite in keeping with the summer stillness all around. 
Presently, at some distance from each other, short 
squat church-towers, with very long bodies, were 
visible, each with its cluster of houses and trees. 



96 ON THE SANDS. 

Then more houses appeared, and a long, high sand- 
bank, while an unmistakable salt smell made it very 
plain to the excursionists that the sea was before 
them, though, on account of the high sand-hills, it was 
quite out of sight. Then the carriages stopped at a 
red-brick house of humble construction, which was 
dignified by the name of the Saltby hotel, and all the 
travellers alighted, Alice, with her crutches, coming 
last, and finding in Jessie and one of her friends very 
kind helpers. She was safely landed at last, and then 
she heard Miss Morgan inquiring for the Bath chair, 
which she knew the hotel possessed. It was in exist- 
ence, she found out, though just at present not forth- 
coming; but, on Alice assuring her that she could 
walk quite well, the word of command was given, and 
the party set off, Jessie and Jane Powell keeping by 
Alice's side. In a few minutes, they had passed 
through the opening in the sand-hills (all the other 
girls were scrambling over them), and then a shady 
nook was found under the bank, and Alice was glad 
to rest and look around her. 

The Lincolnshire coast is nowhere really pretty ; in 
some places it is as desolate and dreary as the sea- 
shore can possibly be ; a long straight reach of sand, 
with nothing to relieve it, is monotonous in the 
extreme, and the want of beauty in the immediate 
inland scenery is 'painfully perceptible. But there is 
one redeeming point, the sands are wide and smooth,. 




'A shady nook was found nnder the bank, and Alicp was glad to rest and look 
around her.' — Page 96 



ON THE SANDS. 9/ 

and hard as marble, and jthe great wide sea in its vast- 
ness and freshness and strength is always glorious, so 
that even Alice, whose most vivid remembrance of the 
sea was of a lovely bay, whose blue waters smiled with 
a thousand dimples at the foot of steep furze-covered 
crags, could appreciate the solemn grandeur of the 
wide expanse of waters before her, and though she 
missed the blue tint of the waters of her own dear 
Channel, and found the German Ocean very gray by 
comparison, yet the tide was coming in in the distance^ 
as gaily as she had ever seen it, and each foam-crested 
billow was like an old friend to her. She found it 
very pleasant to rest, and hear in the distance the 
merry laughter of the girls, as they ran down as far as 
they could to the water's edge, and at present that 
was a good way, as the tide was only just turning. 
She had not had time to feel lonely, before two of the 
girls came to her, and kindly asking her if she felt very 
tired, sat down by her side and began to chat so plea- 
santly and easily, that all her shyness vanished ; she 
forgot what a poor deformed object she was, forgot 
her inability to run about and shout as the others did, 
and only realised that she, too, was young, and that 
her loving heavenly Father had given even to her " all 
things richly to enjoy." 

It was a great amusement for some time to watch 
the various groups as they moved about, and Alice 

7 



^98 ON THE SANDS. 

found herself* asking questions and getting answers to 
them very comfortably indeed. 

" Who is that pretty little girl with the long wavy 
liair ?" 

" Oh, that's Sophy Fenton ; she's the funniest little 
thing, the most untidy little monkey, and yet she is so 
bewitching. I know Miss Stansfield finds it hard work 
'to scold her, but she is obliged sometimes." 

"Yes," said the other, "you remember the um- 
brella ?" 

" What was that ?" asked Alice. 

*' Well," said the last speaker, " you can see what a 
mass of beautiful wavy hair she has. It looks very 
pretty, but it is not so easy to keep in order, and to 
Sophy, whose great delight when she is dressing in the 
morning is to hinder the other girls, it is an immense 
nuisance. Miss Stansfield had spoken about it a good 
many times, and it still looked as tangled as ever; so 
•one day when we were outwalking, Sophy was last, 
as usual (that is because she is the smallest, you know), 
she was walking with Emily Francis, and they were 
•chattering away like anything, when suddenly it struck 
Miss Stansfield, who was just behind with Fraulein, 
that her hair looked more of a mat than ever; so what 
did she do but hook the ivory handle of her umbrella 
in it, and Sophy actually walked home with the um- 
brella without knowing it, and she only found it out 
when she got home, and one of the girls made her look 



ON THE SANDS. 99 

in the glass. It was the funniest thing to see her take 
out the umbrella, and give it to Miss Stansfield, they 
both looked so absurdly grave ; but it was of no use, 
Miss Stansfield soon burst out laughing, and so we all 
•did ; but when we were steady again, she spoke very 
.^seriously to Sophy about her untidiness, and since then 
she has been a great deal better. She was very much 
frightened, too, for just fancy if Miss Morgan had 
seen her !" 

"Yes, just fancy!" echoed the other. 
"Which is the lady you call Fraulein V* 
" Oh, that little dark one there ; she is with Jessie 
mow, don't you see her ?" 

" Yes ; but she is a teacher, isn't she V 
" Oh, yes, she teaches German and French." 
"Then how is it you call her by her christian 
name ?" 

" Oh, Fraulein isn't her name, it's the German for 
Miss. Fraulein Schroder she really is, but in Ger* 
many Fraulein answers every purpose, so Fraulein she 
is and will be till she is married, and then she will be 
Prau." 

Alice laughed. 

" Look !" said the young lady on her left hand, 
•^^ there is the one bathing machine. I wonder, Kate, 
if old Mrs. Hannath is here still ?' Then turning to. 
Alice, " She is the very worst person to take any one 
•out bathing, for she is always hoping * nothing will 



lOO ON THE SANDS. 

happen/ and hinting darkly about 'they little 
days/" 

" What does she mean by * they little clays ?* " 

" Oh, there are little creeks in the sand and soft 
places, not quite like quicksands, but still one could 
sink in unpleasantly deep, but any one who knows the 
coast can guard against them ; but it is her way to* 
maunder about things, poor old body." 

" How fast the tide is coming in !" said Alice. 

" Yes, it is charming." 

" If you like to go down, I can walk quite well,**^ 
said Alice. 

" Are you sure ?" 

" Oh, yes, thank you." 

So Alice hopped along with her crutches, and very 
soon was standing close to the water's edge, watching 
the waves come tumbling in one after the other, and 
laughing at Jessie and her friends, who with stockings 
off were dabbling in the waves to their hearts' content. 
Then there was a call to luncheon, and afterwards the 
Bath chair made its appearance, and while some of 
the girls bathed, and others gathered sea-weed and 
shells, Miss Stansfield and Marian Francis and another 
young lady wheeled Alice along by the side of the 
water, till they had found her the nicest place to rest 
in, and then Fraulein came and Jessie and the little 
heroine of the umbrella, so that Alice had plenty of 
variety, and so far from having a headache, or long- 



ON THE SANDS. lOI 

ing to be quiet, the fun and excitement were most 
exhilarating, and she laughed with the rest, and was 
quite at her ease. 

There were a great many shells glistening on the 
3ands when the tide began to go out again, and she 
left her chair and walked about a little. She had had 
many shells, and more sea-weed than she could carry 
home, presented to her by Sophy and her faithful 
friend Emily, but there is a great pleasure in inde- 
pendence (though Alice' knew very little of it), and 
she thought it would be extremely nice to gather some 
of these treasures her own self, so as she was left alone 
for a few minutes, she began the attempt. It was 
difficult at first, but soon she grew more accustomed 
to it, and little pink shells and " blackamoor's teeth," ' 
.and one or two tiny white whelk shells found their 
way into her pocket, all with the delighted thought, 
" How pleased mother will be when she knows I have 
^gathered these myself!" She was still stooping, when 
suddenly she heard herself called, and turning round, 
-she saw Miss Morgan advancing towards her. 



102 



CHAPTER VII. 

TEARS. 

Miss Morgan's life had been a hard one. She had a 
most sensitive affectionate disposition, which was one 
great reason why she was now so hard and stem, for if 
once a loving heart rouses itself to subdue its ten- 
dencies and calls in the force of a strong will to its 
aid, the sternness that follows is in proportion to the 
depth of feeling which has been stirred up to rebel 
against its sorrows. Until she was fifteen, she and 
her one brother had been the objects of her parents* 
most tender care ; but then, just when childhood was 
passing, and life was unfolding its maze of mysteries 
to the wondering, earnest soul of the young girl, lioth 
her parents died rather suddenly and there was found 
to be no provision for the children. Mr. Morgan had 
no near relations, and those of his wife were so angry 
that he had not insured his life, that they showed but 
little interest in the children, though two or three 
united and agreed to pay for two years the expenses 



TEARS. lOJ. 

of the boy's education — ^he was then twelve — and they 
also sought and found, with some difficulty, a situation 
for the girl as governess in a gentleman's family, but 
that was all. Miss Morgan was then only fifteen, but 
besides being clever she was very tall and womanly- 
looking, and might have been taken for eighteen or 
nineteen at the least. The family with whom she was 
placed were kind to her, and as far as it was possible 
to be so, she was comfortable ; but words cannot 
express how she felt the change from her home life 
or even her life at school, where she had been cared for 
and watched over as something precious, to this dwell- 
ing in a stranger's house. Actual unkindness she did 
not meet with, but the want of interest smote her 
/ keenly ; the elder sisters of her pupils were always 
having amusements planned for them, and though the 
governess cared little for these, the total want of per- 
ception that she too had a heart and might have ap- 
preciated a little thoughtful attention struck her pain- 
fully. She felt alone, no one cared about her, she was- 
an object of special interest to no one ; the children 
she taught looked upon her only as the mainspring of 
the teaching machinery, and all the warm, sensitive 
feelings of her heart were thrown inwards or expended 
themselves in intenser and more devoted affection upon 
her brother. Thoughts of a loving Father in heaven 
came to her at times, and she passed among those 
with whom she lived as religious and very strict, but. 



104 TEARS. 

her religion brought her little comfort. As the years 
went on, she grew quite stern and hard ; her sorrowful 
life without any human sympathy made her . look 
coldly on others whose lot was bright and cheerful, 
and the pride of a feeling nature rose up against the 
relations who visited on her and her brother their 
father's neglect. She toiled hard and saved money, 
she went without all that she possibly could spare, and 
bore many little trials and inconveniences consequent 
on this economy, without a murmur, for her brother 
was her one sole object, and she determined when the 
two years had expired to furnish the means for the com- 
pletion of his school education. He was quite sensible 
of what she did for him, and united his efforts with 
hers, so that when his school-life was over, he had 
gained a scholarship at Cambridge, which with a little 
help from his sister, would keep him there. So the 
two worked on, and life began to look brighter to the 
sister in her quiet school-room as the future showed 
itself more encouragingly before her. Then a shadow 
came, symptoms of decline appeared, and for months 
her brother was in a most delicate state, and at last he 
died. Then once more Miss Morgan had to take up 
her burden; but the sorrow which might have softened 
her if she had but recognised the hand that sent it 
only did her harm : she encouraged hard thoughts of 
God as well as man, and grew exceedingly bitter 
Where she expected sympathy and affection she was 



TEARS. lOS 

disappointed, and many a little flower of peace and 
hope blooming by her path she passed by unheeded. 
Now and then gleams of brightness came through the 
cloud, and kindness would be shown to her, which she, 
in her starved longing for it, valued at more than it was 
worth, and when she found out that it was but the 
customary gilding of polite indifference her heart 
would shrink up again. Sometimes she grew much 
attached to her pupils, but she was not the everything 
in their minds which they were to her, and as they 
passed out of her hands she saw or heard very little 
further of them. She was not a favourite with young 
people, principally because having forced herself into 
overcoming faults and weaknesses, she had not the 
slightest sympathy with others less in earnest, and she 
forgot at times that if her life had been less sad, she 
might have been just as thoughtless as others were. 
To her, in its stern unpitying reality, life was a very 
different thing from what it seemed to them, and she 
would not enter into the feelings which had been 
denied to her. So the time passed on till her yoiith, 
and any hopes natural to it which she might have 
occasionally indulged, passed away, and at thirty-five 
she was growing gray, when quite by accident, as it 
seemed, she met at a sea-side boarding house where 
she was spending her holiday a lady of whom she had 
heard very much in her childhood, and she knew she 
was one whom her dear father and mother had greatly 
befriended. 



I06 TEARS. 

This lady was a most fascinating person, and as 
soon as she discovered who Miss Morgan was, she was 
profuse in her expressions of delight, and would not 
be content until she had carried her back with her to 
her home in the neighbourhood of Beckford, there to 
spend the remainder of the vacation. Nothing could 
exceed her kindness, and poor Miss Morgan's heart 
thawed under its influence, and she showed herself, as 
she really was, bright and affectionate. Then a scheme 
was broached. There was no school in Beckford, it 
needed one greatly, why should not Miss Morgan 
undertake one ? Mrs. Hare had a house to spare, 
which she should have rent free till she could afford 
to pay for it, and she told Miss Morgan over and over 
again that she could never repay to her what she and 
her sisters had received from Mr. and Mrs. Morgan 
when in their youth they were friendless and poor. 
Then, too, she was a rich, childless widow ; how better 
could she dispose of her wealth than by repaying this 
old debt ? Miss Morgan hesitated long. She was 
proud and independent, and could scarcely bring her- 
self to accept even the shadow of a favour, but she 
yielded at last ; a home of her own, and a friend like 
Mrs. Hare close by weighed down the scale, and she 
was introduced to several families in the neighbour- 
hood, and so began her school. For a few months all 
went very well ; then Mrs. Hare suggested some slight 
improvement she thought Miss Morgan might as well 



TEARS. 107" 

make in some of her arrangements, and that lady- 
having a certain fixed rule of her own, declined ta 
make it. There was no actual unpleasantness in word 
or manner, but at once from that day Mrs. Hare's 
visits ceased ; no entreaties on the part of Miss 
Morgan could induce her to explain what was wrong,, 
and the intercourse which had been so agreeable to 
Miss Morgan was closed, by her being obliged to- 
borrow money to pay the rent, which she had under- 
stood was to wait till she was better off. Mrs. Hare 
had a certain influence over the friends to whom she 
had introduced Miss Morgan, so one by one they 
showed themselves cool towards her, and until she 
became aware how kind and neighbourly the people 
of Beckford could be, she was exceedingly unhappy.. 
Then illness came into the school, and one little girl 
died, and although it was a known fact that the ill- 
ness had originated during the child's holidays at 
home, several miles off, most people outside Beckford 
blamed the town for it. Pupils fell off in consequence,^ 
and she had to move to another house. After this it 
was uphill work for a long time. But this had hap- 
pened some years ago now, and Miss Morgan had long 
lived down all the unkindness and neglect and sus- 
picion which her false friend had laid upon her ; her 
school was prospering, and she had many friends. 
But the noontide of life had come to her, and every 
one knows that noon is the hottest and most trying 



I08 TEARS* 

part in all the day, and so Miss Morgan found it, and 
though her religion made her most upright and con- 
scientious, and duty was made on all occasions the 
principal consideration, and no self-denying kindness 
to the poor was neglected, yet it had never led her for 
perfect peace to the One unchanging Friend, and the 
hardest time of all life's battle-ground found her long- 
ing eagerly for, but as yet not finding, " the shadow 
of a great rock in a weary land." 

Then, too, her life was a very busy one, and quiet 
liours were hard to find, and although work is a most 
excellent thing, and indeed a necessity if we would 
rightly keep our moral and physical balance, yet it is 
quite possible to be too busy, to be so full of cares and 
anxieties for this world, that even our hours of prayer 
are invaded with disturbing thoughts. Come these must, 
over and over again, but we must at once cast them off 
on God, or the burden and heat of the day will be too 
much for us, and it is but lost labour which hinders 
our delight in God's word, or in His presence, and 
which takes all its refreshing meaning from the words 
of the Psalmist, " I will commune with my own heart 
and be still." 

That the children feared her much and loved her 
little, she knew very well. Little Sophy, with her 
winning ways, had knocked loudly at the door of her 
heart, but she feared to open it, lest she should learn 
to love the child too much. The one of her pupils to 



TEARS. 109 

whom she was really most attached was Jessie, but 
the tendency to dream, the love for poetry, and the 
clinging affectionate disposition, all were so like what 
her own had been at the same age, that remembering 
her own hard life, she set to work to subdue and crush 
all these tendencies as she saw them, forgetting that 
God's ways, like His gifts, are. various, and that no one 
ought to be a rule for another. So it had come ta 
pass that of all her pupils Jessie loved her least, and 
had communicated quite enough of her sentiments ta 
Alice to inspire her with a considerable awe and dread 
of her governess, so that when turning to see who 
called her, she saw Miss Morgan, she felt very 
frightened indeed, and her timid " Yes, ma'am," was 
only just audible. 

" Have they left you alone, Alice .?" 

" Only for a little while, ma'am, thank you. I have 
been gathering shells for my mother to see how well 
I can move about.** 

" She will be very pleased, I am sure. But I have 
found a very nice cool nook, half way up the bank, 
quite sheltered from the sun. Do you think you could 
manage to reach it ?* 

" Oh, yes, with my crutches, I think I could." 

"Well, then, come with me," and Miss Morgan 
wheeled the chair, while Alice walked by her side. 

The ascent was rather difficult, but it was accom- 
plished at last, and Alice was comfortably placed on 



no TEARS. 

a shawl with a cushion behind her, Miss Morgan sat 
down by her side, and opened a great umbrella, which 
•completely sheltered them as they sat, and she man- 
aged to fix it very firmly in the sand behind. 

" Do you find that comfortable ?" said Miss Morgan, 
.as she carefully wrapped a comer of the shawl round 
Alice's shoulder, which was rather exposed to the 
TDreeze. 

" Oh yes, ma'am, thank you, it is very nice ; ever}'-- 
thing is ; I don't know when a day has seemed so 
jpleasant." 

"You like the sea, then ?" 

" Yes, I love it dearly." 

" Where have you seen it before ?" 

"At my old home at AUanmede, we could see it 
-from every hill : but the place I used to stay at when 
I was a little girl was Deepwater Bay, about twelve 
miles from AUanmede ; it was a lovely place." 

" Yes, I used to know it quite well ; but, Alice, do 
you come from AUanmede ?" 

" Yes, I was born there, and I don't think there 
can be a prettier place in all the world. Oh! I love 
it dearly." 

" So do I, Alice ; I was at school there." 

" Oh, were you, really ?" 

" Yes, at Abbey Tower. Is the dear old place a 
school still ?" 

" It was till about five years ago, and then Lord 










'Alice was cumfurtubly placed on a shawl with a cushiou behind her ; Miw Morgan sat 
down by her »\de.'—Page 110. 



TEARS. Ill 

Allanmede said he wanted it for a laundry, I think, 
and the school was given up." 

" Who had it when you knew it ? What was the 
lady's name, I mean ?" 

" Miss Powercourt." 

*' Oh, I remember her well, she was the second 
teacher when I was there ; but, Alice, you must tell 
me about the dear old place, I was very happy there. 
Is Mrs. Daventry living .?" 

" No, I don't remember her. There is a Mr. James 
Daventry, and Miss Fanny ; she used to be very kind 
to me." 

"Are the two lodges standing near the Lower 
Woods?" 

" Yes, and there is one leading into the park." 

" Covered with roses ?* 

"Yes." 

" I remember it perfectly ; and the old camp, and 
the fosse which the London Road crossed, and the 
stile where we could see the Isle of Wight ?" 

"I know the camp — it is full of cowslips every 
spring — and the fosse has the largest primroses and 
wood anemones I ever saw. I know the stile, too, but 
the trees have grown so high that the Isle of Wight is 
quite hidden." 

" Did your grand- parents live at Allanmede ?" 

"Yes, on the Walnut Hill. Grandfather was a 
builder." 



112 TEARS. 

" Did he live in that old gable-roofed house, with 
the great walnut tree before it, near to the saw-pit ?" 

" Yes, that is the very house." 

" I remember it, but I had forgotten the name." 

"It seems so nice to talk to anyone who loves 
AUanmede. I thought till I knew Miss Jessie I could 
never like a new place." 

" Who is the clergyman now .^" 

"Mr. Colville. Oh! I do miss him so, he is the 
very kindest old gentleman." 

"(9/rf, Alice?" 

"Yes, ma'am, his hair is quite white, and Mrs. 
Colville's hair is gray, too. Did you know them .?" 

" I heard Mr. Colville preach once, but only once ; 
he had then only just come to AUanmede, and his 
first Sunday was my last, and perhaps that is why I 
remember his sermon so well ; it was on the words, 
' Come unto Me all ye who labour and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest.' It may seem strange 
to you, Alice, but many sentences in that sermon are 
as fresh in my mind now as if I had heard it only 
yesterday, and yet it is forty years ago." 

" It is one of my favourite texts, I think." 

" One of them ? What others have you ?" 

" ' Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind 
IS stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee,' ** 
repeated Alice, reverently. 

" Tell me some more." 



TEARS. 113 

"'Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth/ Oh, I 
love that so much, and, ' When he was yet a great 
way off, his father saw him.' " 

"Why do you Hke that so much ?" 

" Oh, because if we do wrong, it is such a comfort to 
know that God is so willing to pardon, that He sees 
when we are still a long way off. Oh, I cannot tell 
you how I love it ; but I think no one can really prize 
it much who has not sinned, and been sorry for it.** 

" Have you no other favourites }** 

" Oh, yes, many : ' God so loved the world that He 
gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth 
on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' 
That is one. Then I am very fond of this : ' In the 
world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer,. 
I have overcome the world.' " 

" And you can realise the comfort of all these words 
. in your pain and weakness, Alice ?" 
* " Oh, yes, they are my great comfort." 

" You must be very happy." 

" I am indeed." 

There was silence for a short time. Miss Morgan 
was thinking of the peace ia this poor girl's life which 
her own had missed. Presently she said, " The dear 
old church ! does Mr. Colville preach out of the old 
stone pulpit ?" 

" Yes, always ; but I could not often go to churchy 
I was not strong enough to bear the organ." 

8 



1 14 TEARS. 

" It IS strange how vividly eveiything comes back 
to me. I can see the sunshine as it fell through the 
window before us, and Mr. Colville's face and his dark 
hair; and then, too, the dear old churchyard, the 
wall-flowers, and the early roses, and the soft spring 
sky, and the thoughts I had that Sunday morning, all 
so fresh and bright and happy ; and then it was all 
over. I was sent for home on Monday, arid my dear 
mother died, and two days afterwards my dear father. 
You cannot wonder that it is all so fixed in my mind," 
said Miss Morgan, as if apologising to Alice for her 
weakness in being so touched by the mention of the 
old home. 

" Oh, no, indeed ; I remember the last Sunday that 
dear father was alive." And Alice told of the country 
walk and the dear old hymn. 

" Say it," said Miss Morgan. 

Alice repeated it as if she felt it, and the consequence 
was that Miss Morgan felt it too. 

" There used to be laburnums, and lilacs, and pink 
hawthorn round the churchyard." 

" So there are still, and the flowers in the vicarage- 
garden are always so beautiful. Mr. Colville is very 
fond of them, arid once he gave me some nice thoughts 
about them I don't think I shall ever forget." 

"Tell me about it." 

" I had been ill, so ill that sometimes I could not 
collect my thoughts to pray, and I used to lie think- 



TEARS. ir5 

ing about God and heaven ; but I could not ask for 
anything, and I could not remember the hymns I 
used to repeat, and once I told Mr. Colville about it. 
And he said I wa^ not to be unhappy, God was not a 
hard taskmaster, but a loving Father, and if I could 
not pray, or think as I wished, still, the very turning 
my mind to thoughts of Him would bring down a 
tlessing; and, he told me, in my weakest hours I 
might always turn to Him, as the flowers turn to the 
sun. I thought about it very much then, and after- 
wards, when I was better, I watched the flowers, and 
saw how it was ; and now, when I am ill, it is such a 
help to me, for, however weak I am, and unable to 
arrange my thoughts and words, the thought comes 
to me that I can turn to Him as the flowers turn to 
the sun, and it is such a comfort." 

Miss Morgan's hand involuntarily closed over 
Alice's. It was a large, strong hand, and the firm, 
yet gentle touch on Alice's thin fingers gave her such 
a sense of sheltering protection that she took courage, 
and rested her head on Miss Morgan's lap. The sea- 
air had made her very sleepy, and the waves, with the 
music of their pleasant dash as they chased each 
other, soothed Alice as she listened, and presently 
Miss Morgan found she was fast asleep. 

She moved her hand to draw Alice to a more com- 
fortable resting-place within her arm, and then, gazing 
far out at sea, gave herself up to the enjoy rtient of a 

8—2 



i l6 TEARS. 

quiet hour, in which her happy school-days, her bitter 
experiences of life since, her longing for the peace 
which Alice had, and she had not, were mingled with 
thoughts of Him who sees us when yet a great way 
qAT, and the very words she needed came into her 
mind — 

" Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me. 
And that Thou bid'st me come to Thee, 
O ! Lamb of God, I come !'' 

It was quite an hour afterwards, and Alice was still 
quietly sleeping, when Jessie and Sophy suddenly ap- 
peared, scrambling up the bank. There were unmistake- 
able traces of tears on Miss Morgan's face, which the 
girls could not help seeing, but the strangest things 
was that Miss Morgan seemed quite unconscious of it 
(she who was accustomed to condemn tears as some- 
thing utterly foolish and weak), and said in a very 
gentle tone : " Hush, dears, Alice is asleep. What 
have you there ?" 

Jessie knelt down before her, and unfolded her 
handkerchief, where were some beautiful blossoms of 
the sea-side convolvulus. 

" Are they not darlings ?" she said. 

" They are indeed. Where did you find them }*' 

" On the bank there ; it is quite pink with them. 
Oh, Miss Morgan, I do wish you could come and see 
them." 



TEARS. 1 17 

''When Alice wakes, I can; and what have you 
been doing, Sophy ?" 

" Oh, all sorts' of things, it's such fun !" and as Sophy 
poked her little merry face up under the umbrella, 
Miss Morgan gave her a kiss. 

Alice woke very soon, and was very much ashamed 
of having gone to sleep, and a good deal afraid that 
Miss Morgan would think her rude ; but she was soon 
re-g^sured on this point, when she saw the two girls 
laughing, and the tall grave lady laughing too. 

They all went together to the place all covered with 
convolvulus blossoms, and their thick leathery leaves. 
Those Jessie had gathered were already withered, so 
they left the others to bloom through their little day 
in peace, and then Miss Morgan was summoned for a 
consultation about the arrangement of the tables in the 
old boat-house, and the girls were told to follow. 

" Why, Alice ?" said Jessie, when they were left 
alone, " what is the matter ? Miss Morgan has been 
crying like anything, it is easy to see that ; but she 
wasn't a bit cross ; I can't make it out." 

"She is not cross at all. I like her very much 
indeed ; but perhaps what made her cry was because 
we had been talking about Allanmede. She was at 
school there, and she was telling me about her being 
fetched home, and losing her father and mother both 
in one week. Oh, I think she must have had a great 
deal of sorrow." 



Il8 TEARS. 

" I never thought of that ; she is always stern and 
grave, but I thought it was because she was cross. 
Do you really mean to say, Alice, Xhat she was at 
Allanmede ? How funny things are, to be sure." 

" Yes, it's quite true, and she knows all the walks,, 
and she heard Mr. Colville's first sermon ; it was the 
last Sunday she was at school ; she says it was forty 
years ago." 

" Oh, what fun ! Now I know how old she is : I Ve 
often wondered, but now, if it's forty years since* she 
left school, and she was fifteen then, of course she is 
fifty-five. Won't I crow over Marian? She has 
always thought her older." 

" But how do you know she was fifteen when she 
left school ?" 

" Oh, because she is always saying, if any of the 
girls are stupid or idle, ' that she began to teach when 
she was fifteen, and that she never went to school after 
fifteen/ and so on." 

" Well, then, I am sure, Miss Jessie, you can't won- 
der at her being grave.' Fancy teaching for forty 
years : it seems dreadful to me/' 

" Oh, teaching fs great fun," said Jessie. 

Alice laughed. 

" It may be so to you, Miss Jessie, but keeping 
school is a very different thing." 

" Well, there's no doubt about that, and I'll try not 
to bother her so." 



TEARS. 119 

"So will I," said Sophy, and with this laudable 
determination, the girls suddenly remembered that 
the boat-house was a long way off, so they left Alice, 
and ran for the Bath-chair, into which they packed 
her, and wheeled her to join the rest of the party. 

Alice was very sleepy when the waggonette set her 
down at the toy-shop that night, and so was every- 
one ; but throughout it had been a most happy day, 
and the only tears that had been shed were those 
which [had dropped from Miss Morgan's eyes, when 
Alice's words of peace connected with the dear old 
place they both loved so well had fallen like dew on her 
parched and weary heart ; and, oh ! what peace there 
was in the thought which came as she lay down to 
rest, that not only Alice in her weakness and pain, 
but she with her cares and griefs, might look up to a 
loving Friend, and turn to that exhaustless source of 
comfort " as flowers turn to the sun." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

HOLIDAYS. 

The holidays had commenced ; Miss Morgan's house 
was deserted by everyone except the servants and 
Fraulein, who wished to remain there the first fort- 
night. The grammar school was closed ; Mrs. 
Mcintosh had gone on a tour in Switzerland with her 
husband, and left her garden to its fate, and Jessie 
and her brothers had set off to spend the holidays at 
their grandmamma's. No wonder that the next morn- 
ing, as Alice prepared for Robin's appearance, she felt 
rather dull, and looked forward to six weeks without 
Miss Jessie as a very long time indeed. 

And Mrs. Winter felt she should miss her quite as 
much. There was always sunshine in the face which 
looked up from the shade of her broad hat as she 
opened the toy-shop door. If Alice seemed tired, her 
anxious mother looked forv^ard to Jessie's arrival as a 
sure means of refreshment ; and if (as was often the 



HOLIDAYS. 121 

case) she herself was feeling care-worn and weary, all 
worries seemed to vanish for the time, as she heard 
the merry voice with its frank and kindly greeting. 
Something of the outer life and freshness of the summer 
weather she always seemed to bring with her, and 
Mrs. Winter, as she helped Alice, said in a would-be 
cheerful tone which was not too successful, " Well, we 
won't grudge the dear child her holidays, bless her ! 
5ure enough she has earned them." 

" Oh, mother, I do wish you could go with me this 
lovely morning ; you never get out for a walk, and 
miss all the fine weather." 

" Not quite that, dear, the shop's very sunny and 
pleasant. I should like to go with you indeed, but 
that's one of the things that can't be, so we must be 
content, and thankful the little town's so pleasant, and 
the people so cheery. Why there's the bell already, and 
the shop's not finished being dusted ; customers don't 
come so early in a general way." 

Alice saw who it was through the half-open door, 
and said at once, "It's the German lady at Miss 
Morgan's, mother ; how nice and cool she looks." 

That was quite true. Fraulein in her brown holland 
walking-dress looked as fresh as a daisy ; she had a 
pretty little covered basket in her hand, and as she 
came forward, she said, " The morning is so fine, that 
out of doors seems better than within. I have come 



122 HOLIDAYS. 

to ask if Alice, your child, may spend it in the woods 
with me." 

Alice came forward at this. 

"Ah, you also are ready," said Fraulein. "Will 
you go with me ?" 

There was no reason why this very charming plan 
should not be carried out, except on Robin's account, 
who would have to go backwards and forwards twice, 
and both Mrs. Winter and Alice thought it would be 
too much for the old man. 

Then Fraulein said he need only take them to the 
entrance of the wood ; she should enjoy wheeling the 
chair, and would not hear of his being sent in the 
evening. So Alice fetched her wool-work, and her 
mother led the German lady through the little parlour 
and across the long room behind, and there at the 
outer door stood Robin, with a rose in his button-hole,, 
and the chair all ready. . 

When the arrangement just made was explained to 
him, he seemed only half satisfied to leave Alice to 
anyone's care but his own, and he took a deal of 
persuading that Fraulein could manage quite well, and 
would take great care of her. 

How deliciously cool the woods were that July 
morning ! Both Fraulein and Alice had brought their 
work, but it seemed quite impossible to do it with so 
much that was bright and pretty around them. They 
went along very leisurely indeed, down grass-grown 



HOLIDAYS. 123. 

paths, where startled rabbits ran across the foot-way, 
and past the banks and hollows where foxgloves were 
in bloom, and the cinque foil carpeted the rough ground 
with its delicate yellow beauty. There were crimson 
vetches twining over the rough bushes, and great 
wreaths of sweet honeysuckle higher up, which per- 
fumed the air as they passed. All at once the road 
they were on brought them to a cleared space in the 
wood, which Alice had never seen, and she therefore 
had no idea that this was the moor of which Jessie 
often spoke. It burst upon them all at once, a mass 
of purple colour, just the tint of the bloom on a ripe 
plum. 

" I can't think what makes it so blue," said Fraulein,. 
" there must be other flowers besides heath." 
• And so there were ; as they came nearer, Alice 
called out : 

" Oh, look at the lovely dark blue flowers, what are 
they?" 

" Truly they are the flowers of the wild gentian ; 
what richness, what depth of colour ! Ah, no wonder,, 
when this blue and the purple heath are so blended." 

It certainly was very beautiful, and after gathering 
one or two of the flowers to examine at their leisure,, 
and satisfying themselves that no more than three kinds 
of heath grew on the moor, namely, ling, the purple 
heath, and the delicate pink wax-like bells of the 
cross-leaved heath, they found a very convenient old 



124 HOLIDAYS. 

root of a tree, standing in a shady angle, whence the 
wolds, the purple moor, and the cool wood-shades 
could be seen, and then Fraulein began to talk, and 
Alice marvelled that she spoke English so well. 

She told Alice of her own home in Germany near 
the Taunus mountains, of pleasant summer excursions 
over them, and of the pine woods in which at school 
in the hot weather they had been accustomed to spend 
whole days, having not only lessons, but all their meals 
out of doors. She spoke of ground which in spring 
was blue with violets, and of the birthday wreaths 
which the girls used to make, and Alice quite entered 
into the delight she expressed at having once found 
some pink fumitory in the shrubbery of a house near 
Beckford, only because that little flower had grown in 
abundance in her German home, and it was like seeing 
a friendly face. 

Then she described the beautiful Rhine, with its 
castles and vineyards, and pictured the glories of 
Cologne cathedral, so that Alice felt she could almost 
see it. Then she went on to tell of Mainz, with its 
statue of Gutenberg, the inventor of printing, of whom 
Alice had been lately reading with Jessie. From one 
famous name she passed to another, and finding the 
eager listener knew but little of the history of the 
great Reformer, she told her the story of Luther in 
such stirring language, and with, such deep religious 
feeling, that Alice's heart warmed, and her work 



HOLIDAYS. 125 

dropped from her fingers, as she drank in the well- 
known tale of that bold, brave life, and realised its 
nobility and God-given strength. 

" Oh, I like that so much," she said, when Fraulein 
had finished. 

Fraulein's knitting needles had been going fast all 
the time, but now she stopped and asked Alice if she 
had never read the " Chronicles of the Schonberg 
Cotta family ?" 

"No, I have not even heard of it." 

" Well, I will lend it to you, it is about Luther. 
Among other things it speaks of the grandeur of 
hymns sung in the deep pine woods. Oh, I think that 
IS so true! Pine woods always seem solemn to me, 
and suited to beautiful sacred chorales. Do you like 
to sing ?" 

" Oh, very much ; but I wish you would sing to me 
now, while I work, that is if you don't mind." 

Alice took up the footstool she was working for Mrs. 
Mcintosh, and the German lady began to sing. She 
sang in her own language, and her rich sweet voice,, 
with the grand sounding words, made most beautiful 
music, and Alice kept asking for more. 

" That has been a great treat," she said, when the 
hymns were ended. 

" Ah ! you may not enter into it, but music, which 
is my great delight, brings also my great trial. Words, 
are poor to describe the sensations of one who has to 



126 HOLIDAYS. 

listen during all her teaching duties to that strum, 
strum, thump, thump, on the piano, where the girls 
exercise their fingers. Surely they have no ears ! and 
where are their hearts ? * Have you no soul ?' I am 
•constrained to ask at times, ' that you so destroy the 
teautiful V but I might as well speak to the winds; on 
it continues, strum, strum, bang, bang ; and ah, the 
false notes ! Yet I have one comfort, I do not instruct 
them ; if I did, it would fare ill, both with them ^.nd 
me. 

" Does Miss Jessie play well }'* 

" Jessie ? yes, the child has soul ; but her lesson is 
practised at home. If she were as proficient in the 
German grammar as in music I might be satisfied; 
but yet I would not be harsh, of late she has much 
improved." 

" She has been teaching me since Easter." 

" So Miss Morgan informed me, and the tidings 
pleased me well : and doubtless that is one reason 
why she has herself improved, for nothing assists one 
so much in learning as teaching others." 

This was good news for Alice. 

" It is a pleasure for you to learn ?" asjced Fraulein. 

" Oh, yes, and then Miss Jessie is so kind." 

The two spent a very pleasant day together, and it 
was only one of many during the fortnight that 
Fraulein remained in Beckford. Almost every fine 
day some excursion was planned and carried out, or 



HOLIDAYS. 127 

if it rained, there was the delightful book to read, 
which Fraulein had lent her. It was of great benefit 
to Alice to associate with one so well educated as her 
German friend, who had travelled much, and could 
tell her a great deal, not only of her native land, but 
also of Switzerland and France. Then once they 
went together to a quiet week-day service in the 
church, when the soothing prayers and heart-felt 
hymns were full of refreshment to Alice, and led her 
to hope that before long she might be strong enough 
to go regularly on Sundays with her mother. There 
had been scarcely time to realise Jessie's absence with 
any degree of pain, before the fortnight of Fraulein's 
stay expired ; and then as if Alice was not to be left to 
feel dull, the very day of the German lady's departure 
brought Mrs. Winter a letter from Charlotte saying 
that she hoped to be with her during the coming 
week, and so all was delighted preparation in the little 
house behind the toy-shop. 

Mrs. Winter went to the station to meet Charlotte, 
and when she reached home her first exclamation 
after kissing her sister was, " My dear Alice ! how you 
have grown ! and how much better you look !" And 
then began that eager and interesting conversation 
into which long-parted members of a family plunge 
directly they meet, as if every word must be said 
under a penalty the very first day, utterly ignoring 
the fact of a lengthened time before them. In this 



128 HOLIDAYS. 

case there was much to tell on both sides, for Charlotte 
had -not been home since last July, and then home was 
at Allanmede. Alice had kept her pretty well in- 
formed on all matters of interest, but there is always 
much which cannot be written, and Miss Jessie and 
Robin, Mr. Eaton and lessons, the Bath-chair, Mrs. 
Mcintosh and Miss Morgan were all jumbled tc^ether 
in Alice*s details of kindness and attention. Mrs. 
Winter had to interpose occasionally when she found 
Charlotte mistaking one lady for the other, or other- 
wise losing the thread of the somewhat disconnected 
and bewildering narrative ; but it was all very pleasant 
for Charlotte to hear, and her surprise and joy at 
seeing her sister so much stronger and more active 
was a great encouragement to her mother, who 
watched Alice so anxiously from day to day that 
she was less likely to see the really marked improve- 
ment in strength and appearance than one who was a 
comparative stranger. 

The good elder daughter would have at once in- 
sisted upon attending to the shop every morning in 
order to let her mother enjoy the fresh air with Alice^ 
but this Mrs. Winter would not allow, as Charlotte 
needed it after her indoor life at Norwich ; but at last 
they agreed to take it in turns, and so each had the 
benefit of the summer air, and Alice's delight was 
great when she saw her dear mother's face less care- 
worn, and marked the improvement in her health 



HOLIDAYS. 129 

which the exercise brought. Alice and Charlotte 
talked often together of the school-plan, and though 
the elder sister felt anxious lest one so delicate should 
work too much, she could not but take pleasure in the 
scheme on her own account as well as her sister's. 

Charlotte's holidays were to last a month, and 
though the weather became rainy after the first fort- 
night, there were many happy days in the little room 
behind the toy-shop, for it was her custom to take 
advantage of such weather to furbish up the wardrobe 
of the family, and while she stitched Alice read aloud, 
or occasionally, as at such times customers were few, 
all three would work and let their tongues fly as fast 
as their needles, and it comforted Charlotte exceed- 
ingly to know how, in a perfectly strange place, 
her mother and sister had found already so many 
friends. 

The footstool was finished, and now Alice was bent 
on a surprise, to greet her dear Miss Jessie on her 
return. To this end the very prettiest work-basket in 
the shop was selected, some bright blue silk was 
bought, and Charlotte showed her sister how to quilt 
it. It would be difficult to say how much grateful 
care from all three of the Winters went into the lining 
of that little basket, nor how many times Alice 
stopped in her work to turn it over and say enquir- 
ingly, " You really think it will be pretty enough to 
give her ?" nor how often the reply was (in variations, 

9 



I30 HOLIDAYS. 

of course, for perhaps the same words over and over 
again would have been less impressive), *' It is beauti^ 
fully done, dear Alice, and I am sure Miss Jessie will be 
delighted with it" 

Meanwhile the good habits which Jessie had been 
cultivating were being attended to during her holiday- 
time, and grandmamma thought her much improved. 
And certainly there was a change in her ; she was as 
merry as ever, but nothing like so careless, and there 
was an air of quiet content which pervaded each 
day's employments even when her own will had to 
be given up, which impressed the dear old lady, 
who wished no greater blessing for her eldest grand- 
daughter than that she might learn her life's lesson 
of meekness and lowliness and persevering patience 
at her Saviour's feet, and indeed what higher good 
could she have desired for her ? The words, " Draw 
nigh to God and He will draw nigh to you," need 
only to be put into practice for their truth to be 
proved, and Jessie in her earnest endeavours to be 
steady and persevering had drawn very near to Him, 
though as yet she was scarcely aware of it. Some 
think that sorrow and care only are the messen- 
gers which can bring us to God ; but those who 
thus judge make a great mistake. Many young 
hearts who have been sheltered through a happy 
<:hildhood and youth, have brought their very happi- 
ness as an offering to their loving Father, and in 



HOLIDAYS. 131 

praise for His mercies and prayer for grace to use His 
^ifts aright have realised that blessing of communion 
with Him which only those can receive who thus draw 
nigh to Him. Then, too, how many sins need forgive- 
ness, which only the precious blood of God's dear 
Son can wash away ! how much wisdom is required 
in choosing what is right, how much training in love 
and patience and all Christian graces which are the 
igift of the blessed Spirit of God ! Surely with all 
these needs daily reminding us of our helplessness we 
should not wait till sorrow and care come with their 
weight of anguish, before we learn how full of com- 
passion and mercy is the Saviour, whose name we 
bear, and how ready to help in every time of need ! 
No one can really meet great trials in a right spirit 
who has not had a daily preparation in fighting with 
smaller difficulties and submitting in more trivial 
things. And then how sweet, when the hour of 
sorrow comes, to know that we have not now for the 
first time to seek God's face, but to be able with a 
long experience of His help and care and tender love 
. to turn to Him, our tried and faithful Friend, in per- 
fect confidence as " the flowers turn to the sun." 

And Jessie in her daily life, as more and more she 
tried to do whatever came to her, as for God and in 
His sight, and thus felt constrained to do her very 
best in everything, was beginning to find how power- 
ful was the Friend whose help and strength she sought 

9—2 



132 HOLIDAYS. 

before entering on each day's work or pleasure. And 
whereas at first it had been the fear of failing in her 
duty which had made her rise early and prepare for it^ 
now she felt that to miss the quiet time of prayer and 
reading which sent her forth armed to the battle 
would be a very great trial indeed, so though lessons 
were put on one side, and only very small grievances 
interrupted the constant flow of holiday enjoyment,, 
her morning hour was strictly kept, and a new mean- 
ing began to show itself in the blessed words which 
are given to be a light to our feet and a lantern to 
our path, and she was realising in a clearer knowledge 
of God's great love, and of all that love had done for 
her, the words which Alice had quoted on the day of 
their first Bible lesson, " They shall all be taught of 
God." 



133 



CHAPTER IX. 

OLD FRIENDS. 

And Miss Morgan ; how was she faring } 

When she first left home, she went to Filey, there to 
5pend a fortnight or more with some of the friends she 
had made in the neighbourhood of Beckford ; for the 
time to be spent afterwards they thought she had no 
settled plan. They did not know of the conversation 
with Alice on the sea-side bank which had roused old 
memories that would not be quieted, and perhaps they 
would not have entered into her longing to return to 
the well-loved place where so many happy days had 
been spent. At any rate she never sounded them to 
find out ; but when her visit was over, she announced 
her intention of going to London, and went, though 
everyone wondered that she should care to go there 
in July, and when she left them they only remarked 
as the train set off, " Well there is no accounting for 
iaste." But Miss Morgan only stayed in London two 



134 OLD FRIENDS. 

days ; on the third she went to a certain great station^ 
and there took a ticket for Allanmede. 

It was a restless feeling which sent her there, a 
longing to see old faces (and she knew from Alice's 
mention of Miss Daventry that one at least was there,, 
and why should there not be more?) a craving for 
some of the old, fresh brightness and peace which 
were so associated in her mind with Sundays there^ 
and the dear old church and the whispering trees 
— a yearning for her lost youth, such as the poet's 
must have been when he wrote the words : — 

" I can see the breezy dome of groves, 

The shadows of Deering's woods ; 
And the friendships of old and the early loves 
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves 
In quiet neighbourhoods. 
And the verse of that sweet old song, 
It flutters and murmurs still : 
* A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.* " 

It was evening when she left the train at the little 
station four miles from Allanmede, where an omnibus, 
whose dimensions of the band-box species did not say 
much for the railway traffic in that part of the world, 
except for those who had carriages of their own. Miss 
Morgan took her seat in it, opposite an elderly woman, 
whose face she scanned as the omnibus moved off, with 
the vague hope that in its care-worn lines some trace 
of a familiar look might satisfy her ; but it did not 



OLD FRIENDS. 1 35 

appear, and presently she found out that her fellow 
passenger was a stranger to Allanmede. 

Miss Morgan decided to sleep one night at the inn, 
and look for lodgings the next day. How strange and 
yet how familiar the little town looked, as the omnibus 
toiled halfway up the hill to the "Allanmede Arms." 
The same old names over the shops she remembered 
so well, the same old trees with their swaying branches 
rising high above the gray stone wall at the top of 
High Street, where another road crossed it ; the same 
twang in the voices of the people loitering about the 
inn-yard as the omnibus stopped — ^the twang, though 
unmusical enough, yet from old association so much 
more agreeable to her ears than the broad north 
country dialect to which for so long she had been 
accustomed. Then mastering the emotion which the 
place awakened within her, she spoke as any indif- 
ferent person might speak, and having secured her 
rooms for the night, went upstairs. 

Very early the next morning she went out, up by 
the churchyard first and into it, where the morning 
sunbeams were glancing bright on the quiet graves 
where the sleepers rested in their long repose, waiting' 
for the dawn of that blessed day, when this corruptible 
shall put on immortality. The roses were blooming 
on the church, as of old, and the trees were green as 
ever, but how many stones had names on them which 
she remembered well, and knew now it would be vain 



nu i9aEKi& 



w ir XI a. TTTiawi gneat slalioo, 

■*hig 10113: sac iierfihcic^ a 
i'g^.^ 31 -ss XML ai"'^ anL ^k aatr Loui ABoe s 
afliffr Zfinsscrr^xac dbc £ jcsst v^ there, 
an: 3K Tnnrg? 2. 11:^1 lug foi 
oT Ib:^ IMC ir*d '» i «t.'ii. i r.'-r 2ii£ peace ishidi 

Snnczvs there, 



ial .'nin,.! anL ^]e -sdcsxm^ trees 
— s. vrmi i n^ ±r ^sr jec jixol sxcx <8s liie poet's 




136 OLD FRIENDS. 

to seek! She looked at the old sun-dial over the south 
porch, and the sound of the clock above it striking 
seven, was like the voice of an old friend, but when just 
before it ceased the Castle clock began to chime, and 
its thin, though musical voice (which till that moment 
she had quite forgotten) blended with the deeper 
tones sounding from the church tower, the old, old 
time came back to her so vividly, that the tears, fell 
fast as she turned away to continue her walk. 

She had ordered breakfast at half-past eight, and so 
had plenty of time to satisfy herself on some points 
about which she was specially curious. The vicarage 
opposite the church gates was not the old one she 
remembered, but a newer and much handsomer build- 
ing. The lodge leading into the park had its garment 
of roses as of old, but some of the thatched cottages 
an Walnut Hill had given place to red brick buildings, 
with slated roofs. Still on the whole the upper part 
of the town at least was little altered, considering her 
forty years' absence, and she returned to the inn fairly 
satisfied with her ramble. 

She took another after breakfast, and bent her steps 
to where she remembered the post office in the lowest 
of the three roads, but it was not to be found, a sad- 
dler's shop stood in its place, and a row of important- 
looking dwelling houses stared at her with an un- 
pleasing newness. She toiled up the hill again, and 
there, just past the inn, so close that she had missed 



OLD FRIENDS. 137 

it, she found in a grocer's shop the railed off desk and 
abundance of papers having reference to mails to all 
parts of the world, which looked very official indeed. 

On enquiring for rooms, she found there were two 
to let above the shop, and as they were pleasant, and 
everything seemed clean and nice, to say nothing of 
the name over the door being one she recollected, she 
engaged them, and took up her quarters there that 
evening. 

The next day was Sunday, and as she looked from 
her window at the different groups of church-goers 
turning out of the doors in High Street, the words 
came with great force into her mind :— 

" Strange to me now are the forms I meet, 
When I visit the dear old town ; 
But the native air is pure and sweet, 
And the trees that overshadow each well known street, 
As they balance up and down. 
Are singing the beautiful song, 
Are sighing and whispering still : 
* A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.''' 

Then she joined the throng all moving upwards, and 
presently found herself within the church, and being 
ushered into the ladies* corporation pew, which she 
remembered so well, just opposite the old stone pulpit. 
It was well that others were in it besides herself, for a 
crowd of memories filled her mind, and every pillar 
and window was strikingly familiar, and even the 



138 OLD FRIENDS. 

galleries and high pews, which so spoilt the look of the 
otherwise beautiful building, making it appear much 
less spacious than it was, were like old friends to her. 
Then the service b^an, and if Alice had not prepared 
her for a great change, she would scarcely have recog- 
nised in the venerable-looking clergyman who stood 
up in the reading-desk, the Mr. Colville whose first 
sermon she had heard forty years ago in that very 
church. There were strange faces all around her, and 
she felt herself alone and a stranger amongst them ; 
but the service soothed her, and she was more calm 
when Mr. Colville entered the pulpit opposite to her, 
and gave out his text : 

" Thou shalt remember all the way by which the 
Lord thy God hath led thee these forty years in the 
wilderness." 

At first she thought she must be mistaken, so sin- 
gularly appropriate were the words to her ; but they 
were repeated, and as the sermon went on, Miss 
Morgan took them as a message from God. . 

The clergyman had no idea with what eagerness he 
was listened to by the tall, grave-looking lady opposite, 
who never once removed her eyes from his face the 
whole time he was preaching. He had no idea as he 
spoke in general terms of the sojourn of the Israelites 
in the wilderness, and of God's purpose in leading 
them, and drew thence much practical and personal 
comfort for each Christian who might look back on 



OLD FRIENDS. 1 39. 

all the way by which he too had been led, that to one 
listening heart his words were falling as oil on the 
waters of a troubled sea, and that the Holy Spirit,. 
whose office it is to bring all the things of God to our 
remembrance, was carrying the message of peace so 
home to one tempest-tossed soul, that it was only by 
an effort she restrained herself from audibly uttering 
the assent which rose to her lips as he ended his ser- 
mon with the calm words of conviction : " He led thenv 
forth by the right way." 

Miss Morgan threaded her homeward way among 
the strange faces, and when she reached her room, 
shut herself in alone with God. She went no more 
out that day, but sat in the Sabbath quietness think- 
ing over the past forty years with a chastened heart. 

Next morning she enquired of her neat landlady 
which was the house where the Winters had lived .^ 
and when she added that she came from Beckford,^ 
where they now were, she had enough to do to- 
answer questions, for it seemed that a great respect 
was felt for the family. She found the house and 
went down to the river where the ships were, and 
then walked far out into the country under shady 
trees, with the summer sky above her and God's own 
peace within. In the afternoon she sallied forth 
again, and soon found herself on the terrace, where 
was situated the house known to the townspeople as 
Lawyer Daventry's. It stood on the sunny side of 



I40 OLD FRIENDS. 

the street, and its shining brass knocker and door- 
knob, and the immense laurustinas within the iron 
palings looked just the same as she remembered them 
when she was at school, and used to go home now 
and then with Fanny Daventry to tea. They had 
been great friends, and since their parting Fanny had 
more than once written, but when troubles crowded 
thick and fast into her life, Miss Morgan had had no 
heart to reply to her letters, and the correspondence 
dropped. It had cost her a great effort to make this 
call, and perhaps it was that which gave the decided 
application to the knocker which startled the echoes 
of the quiet street, and brought the heads of several 
old ladies and one or two young ones to the windows 
to look out, and caused them to say, " It is the strange 
iady who was in church yesterday ; I wonder who 
she is ?" 

Miss Daventry was at home, and Miss Morgan was 
shown into the pleasant drawing-room she knew so 
well ; there were photographs about, and the portrait 
of Mrs. Daventry, whom she well remembered, looked 
peacefully at her from the wall. Then the door 
opened and a plump little lady entered, whose fair 
white and pink complexion and soft light hair un- 
tinged with grey, made her look youthful still, and in 
spite of all Miss Morgan's efforts, when she saw the 
old familiar smile sh^ broke down utterly, and the two 
friends had a very tearful meeting. It was very plea- 



OLD FRIENDS. I4I 

sant for all that, and there was something most heart- 
warming in the way Miss Daventry welcomed her, 
and begged her to come and stay there and leave the 
post office ; but that Miss Morgan would not hear of, 
and her friend contented herself with securing her as 
often as she could, and in reviving old friendships,, 
which was very agreeable to her who had felt herself 
friendless so long. 

There were more of her old friends living than she 
had at first expected, and she socn knew the clergy- 
man and his wife, and found them as delightful as 
Alice had led her to believe. They were very glad to 
hear of her and to know that she was so much 
stronger, and some little tokens of remembrance were 
entrusted to Miss Morgan's care for her and for her 
mother. 

After the first week it was wonderful how Miss 
Morgan enjoyed her stay at Allanmede ; her heart 
warmed towards the children and grand-children of 
her old friends, and as her cold, stiff manner thawed 
under the influence of kindly feelings, it was refresh- 
ing to find herself affectionately welcomed by girls of 
the same age as those* who at school were in such awe 
of her. It made her feel anxious to be at home 
again, that she might unbend and rule her little king- 
dom with a milder sway. When at length she left 
the quiet little town on the hillside, it was with a 
softened heart, in which were stored not only old 



142 OLD FRIENDS. 

memories but new hopes for the future. Especially 
had it done her much good to be often with her old 
schoolfellow. In their school days there had been 
much mutual affection, though considerable intellec- 
tual inequality ; but now Miss Morgan had the same 
thought in listening to Miss Daventry that had come 
to her after talking with Alice at Saltby, "Thou hast 
hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast 
revealed them unto babes." 

" Who can mother be talking to so energetically Y' 
said Charlotte as the two sisters sat together working 
one afternoon, a day or two before Jessie's return. 

" Tm sure I don't know ; listen ! Oh ! that is Miss 
Morgan's voice, I feel sure ; but I don't know who 
else there is." 

" I do then !" exclaimed Charlotte jumping up ; " it 
IS Miss Daventry ; it can't be anyone else." 

" Nonsense, Charlotte, how can " 

But here the door opened, and Miss Morgan 
^entered with another lady — and Charlotte was right ; 
it tvas Miss Daventry — the dear, kind teacher at the 
Sunday school, whose Bible-class the eldest sister had 
attended till the time she left home to be apprenticed, 
and who had been a true, kind friend to the Winters 
then and ever since. 

Miss Daventry knew all about John Fry, and had a 
shrewd guess at the reason why the marriage was so 
long delayed, and there was a feeling in her heart of 



OLD FRIENDS. 143 

great respect for him and for Charlotte, who were so 
patiently waiting and working in the trust that God 
would give them in His own time the happiness that 
seemed so long delayed. It was very delightful to 
Mrs. Winter to find that Alice was thought looking so 
much better ; and how very pleasant it was to see a 
well-known face again, and to hear the AUanmede 
news! 

" To think," said Miss Daventry, " that when you 
wrote to me, Alice, you should have mentioned Miss 
Jessie and her kindness, and that neither I nor you 
should have known that the lady who had taught her 
what she was teaching you was a dearly-loved school- 
fellow of mine! But now here we are all brought 
together as happily as can be, I think we all ought to 
be very thankful." 

There was no doubt at all about that in the minds 
q{ any of the little party. Presently Miss Morgan 
opened a travelling basket she had with her and said, 
** I have some little presents from Mr. Colville for 
you, Mrs. Winter, indeed, for you all ;" and then she 
took out first a little packet, which, when Mrs. Winter 
opened, she found to contain two small bronze easels, 
and in one was a photograph of Mr. Colville, and in 
the other was one of his wife. 

" Oh, how very good ! it is the dear old gentleman 
to the life ; look, Alice, he seems as if he were speak- 
ing! and Mrs. Colville, too, with her beautiful gfray 



144 OLD FRIENDS. 

curls — oh ! they could have sent me nothing I should 
value so much/' said Mrs. Winter as she placed them 
on the mantel-shelf on each side of the little time- 
piece, which did not go, but was always kept in the 
post of honour, because it had belonged to her hus- 
band. 

" This is for Miss Winter, from Mrs. Colville," and 
Miss Morgan handed Charlotte a copy of " The Path- 
way of Promise ;" " and this is Alice's," as she gave 
her the first series of " Hymns of Faith and Hope." 

The books gave very great satisfaction, and then 
Miss Morgan took out an awkward-looking parcel and 
a flat, thick packet, and placing them in Alice's hands, 
would have moved to go if Miss Daventry had not 
detained her. 

" Are they for me ?" asked Alice. 

"Yes ; I wished to bring you something, my dear, 
and I thought perhaps it would give you most plea- 
sure to have some views of your old home, and a 
stereoscope ; I only hope I have chosen the right 
places." 

' " Oh, thank you, thank you, ma'am," said Alice in 
great delight ; and one photograph after another was 
looked at through the stereoscope with enjoyment so 
intense, that Miss Morgan was more than repaid for 
any trouble she might have had in searching for 
favourite views. " Here is one of the churchyard," 
said Charlotte, "and yes — oh ! yes, it is the grave!" 



OLD FRIENDS. 1 45 

Yes ; there it was with its simple head-stone, so pre- 
cious to the widow and her children ; it would not 
bear looking at then, so it was put aside, but they 
wondered very much whether or not the selection of 
that particular view had been accidental or intended 
One day afterwards Miss Daventry told them that 
Miss Morgan had had it taken on purpose, and oh ! 
how they loved her for it ! 

A rainy evening was a great boon, and over and 
over again the twelve photographs were looked at and 
admired, new beauties appearing every time ; certainly 
Miss Morgan had thought to some purpose, for the 
pleasure she had given was a lasting one, and endeared 
her for ever to Mrs. Winter and her daughters. 

Two days afterwards Jessie returned home ; school 
work began the next morning, so she did not visit the 
toy-shop till the afternoon, but then, as the church- 
clock was striking four, the well-known voice was 
heard in the shop, and teacher and pupil, to say 
nothing of Mrs. Winter and Charlotte, had a very 
happy meeting. 

" I don't know how to thank you all for the lovely 
work-basket," she said, thanking each in turn : " I 
think it is perfectly beautiful : blue is my favourite 
colour, and I really believe I shall like work better 
when I use this nice basket, it looks so inviting.** 

There were not many lessons this afternoon, there 
was so much to tell, and all the photographs had to 

10 



146 OLD FRIENDS. 

be admired, and Jessie's appreciation of them charmed 
Alice beyond measure ; the views were so very lovely, 
and Miss Morgan's kii^iness was a thing she marvelled 
at to herself, though out of respect for Alice's feelings, 
she made no remark on it She was much struck with 
Charlotte's likeness to her mother ; she had never 
thought Mrs. Winter's care-worn face so good-looking ; 
but then as she turned to Alice she met- the same 
beautiful dark eyes, which she had so often admired, 
and thought silently of the wonderful impression ivhich 
suffering and anxiety can make on the countenance. 
A halo of great interest was round Charlotte in Jessie's 
estimation, and on the first opportunity she eagerly 
asked Alice if she approved of the school scheme ? 

"Oh, dear yes!" was the reply, "she thinks it 
altogether charming." 

** Does Mr. Fry know ?" 

** No, we are going to wait a little while before tell- 
ing him.'.' 

" I think you are really wonderfully better, Alice." 

" Yes, Miss Jessie ; that I certainly am. I hope to 
go to church next Sunday." 

"Do you really?" 

** Yes, Mr. Eaton came a few days ago, and I told 
him I meant to try. How very kind he is !" 

"Well, I'm very glad you find him so; he used to 
be very different before Mrs. Eaton died, since then he 
has been dreadfully melancholy." 



OLD FRIENDS. I47 

" He did not seem so the other day ; and he asked 
me if I felt going out in the chair Ifad done me good, 
and when I told him it had very much indeed, he said 
he was very glad, and then he told me he wished to 
make me a present of it ; was it not kind of him ?" 

" It was indeed ; and so it is really yours ?" 

"Yes— altogether." 

" Well, Alice, it is a mystery to me how you soften 
people. Tm sure Miss Morgan has not been like her- 
self since that day at Saltby when you were with her ; 
and now to think of Mr. Eaton ! but it is really very 
nice." 

The next day Charlotte went back to Norwich, and 
the two left at home felt by no means too cheerful 
without her ; but Alice*s hope for the future helped 
her mother to look forward with much comfort, espe- 
cially as there really seemed a settled improvement in 
her health. In the evening Robin took her to the 
woods by way of the grammar-school, as he had 
something to remark to Mrs. Mcintosh about the 
planting of a new fern she had brought home with 
her. As the chair was wheeled through the gates 
Alice saw Mrs. Mcintosh contemplating the rock- 
work in company with Miss Morgan, who looked up 
kindly as Robin and his charge came near. 

" It weean't grow i* that how, "exclaimed the old 
man, as he looked at the fern, which its owner had 
placed in the most exposed part of the rock-work ; 

10 — 2 



148 OLD FRIENDS. 

and then he went on to explain his reasons to Mrs. 
Mcintosh, while Miss Morgan came up to Alice and said 
she would go to the woods with her, and Robin might 
come to meet them when he had settled the aflFairs of 
the fernery. Robin needed some persuasion to agree 
to this, but yielded at last, and so Miss Morgan and 
Alice left the gardeners and went on to the woods. 

They were purple with heath, and all round them 
were corn-fields ripening, and the glimpses of the 
wolds, which could be caught between the trees, were 
warm and brown, and wearing an aspect quite unlike 
that which in spring had so delighted Alice, but it was 
beautiful nevertheless. 

Miss Morgan sat by the chair and talked, of AUan- 
mede principally, for Alice was as little likely to 
weary of listening to accounts of her old home as 
Miss Morgan was of giving them. 

"I left Miss Daventry busy writing letters," she 
said, " so many came by the afternoon post that she 
begged me to leave her, which was why you found me 
at the grammar-school. I am very glad now that 
it so happened I went there instead of to Lowford, 
as I first intended.'* 

Alice felt so too, and they were soon engaged in a 
conversation very interesting to them both, and there 
was something in the kind sympathy shown in Miss 
Morgan's manner which drew her young companion 
out in spite of herself, and perhaps the quiet of the 



OLD FRIENDS. 149 

evening suggested a question which the lady presently 
asked. 

"You know what day-dreams are, Alice?" 

" Yes, ma'am, at least I think so. I know what it 
is to have sweet thoughts come to me in my waking 
hours, far sweeter than any which come when I am 
asleefp; they always seem sent by God to comfort me." 

"Tell me of them." 

" I remember one — it was at Allanmede when we 
were in great trouble once — at least the trouble was 
very great to us, and the worst was we could s^ no 
way out of it, and the more I thought about it the 
worse it seemed, and it made me so unhappy I could 
not see comfort in anything. One day I was quite 
worn out with thinking about it, and mother sent me 
to lie down. I could not sleep, but I fell into a 
-dreamy state, and then I thought I was walking along 
a very narrow path indeed where there was only room 
for one to walk at once, and it was very stony and 
uneven. On my right hand was a high bank'covered 
with thorns and brambles, and on my left there was a 
chasm between two hills, oh! so fearfully dark and 
deep, it made me dreadfully giddy to look down into 
it, and I feared to go on ; but a voice seemed to say 
I must, and I began to walk ; but I kept looking 
down into the chasm, and once I slipt and should have 
been quite lost, only just then a hand took hold of 
mine, and a voice said gently ' Follow Me, and look 



ISO OLD FRIENDS. 

up/ and then I knew it was Jesus calling me, and I 
rose. We went on in perfect silence, and once or 
twice I looked down into the darkness, and He re- 
peated in a grieved voice, ' Look up, my child, look 
up !* After that I did, and I shall never forget how 
beautifully blue the sky looked, and how soft the 
fleecy clouds were, and although the stones hurt my 
feet, and the thorns caught me sometimes, I felt quite 
peaceful holding that kind hand, and following close 
in those footsteps. Presently night came on, and it 
was very dark indeed ; but still the voice kept saying, 
'Look up,' and so I kept looking, and presently I 
saw a star in the darkness, and then another, and the 
more I looked the more stars I saw, till the sky was 
quite bright So we walked on all the night, and 
presently the dawn broke, and when the sun burst 
forth in his glory, I was in a wide and beautiful 
country — ^the chasm was quite out of sight, the danger 
was over, and in my heart I heard the words, * He 
brought me forth into a place of liberty, because He 
had a favour unto me.' Oh, it helped me so, and by- 
and-by we got over our trouble ; but now whenever I 
feel tempted to dwell on difficulties or sorrows, I 
always remember the words, 'Follow Me, and look 
up.'" 

Miss Morgan thought how much of the bitterness 
of her life might have been spared if she had only 
done this ; but she merely said, " Tell me of another." 



OLD FRIENDS. ISI 

" I have one gfreat favourite. It was once when I 
was so very ill I could not move or work, and it 
seemed so difficult to be good and patient, while every 
one else I saw was active and strong, and I fretted 
about it very much. But one day — I shall never forget 
it — I was sitting out in the old boat by the river-side, 
watching the ships on the river and the lambs and 
sheep in the meadows opposite, and then I lay back 
and closed my eyes and it seemed as if I saw a shep- 
herd with his flocks crossing the mountains. It was 
early morning, and everything looked bright, and I 
noticed one little lamb that seemed more lively and 
happy than the rest as it skipped and frisked about at 
some distance from the shepherd. All at once from 
an unseen hand a stone was thrown which lamed the 
poor little lamb, and it fell down on the soft grass. 
The shepherd was a good way off, and the sheep who 
were near it only came and looked at the poor 
little thing, and then went on. I thought I knew 
exactly how it felt in its suffering, quite unable to 
walk to its home across the mountains, quite unable to 
do its part, helpless and useless. Then it began to 
bleat in a low tone, but at the very first sound the 
shepherd turned, and when he came near, he took up 
the little lamb and laid it in his bosom, and carried it 
tenderly and softly over the mountains. And I thought 
that as it lay there so soft and warm, it thought 
little of the pain which brought it so near the heart of 



152 OLD FRIENDS. 

the Good Shepherd. Then when they reached home, 
the shepherd bound up the wound, and after a while 
it became well again ; but always after that it kept 
closer than any of the flock to its kind friend, and 
though it was always rather lame, it never regretted 
the suffering which had brought it so near the heart of 
the Good Shepherd. Oh ! I love that dream so very 
much." 

Miss Morgan was thinking how different were 
Alice's day-dreams from those feverish visions which 
too often come to us in our hasty eager youth. " My 
dear child,'' she said, as she laid her hand on that of 
the deformed girl with the gentle touch Alice remem- 
bered so well on the day at Saltby, " thank God for 
whatever suffering has coloured all your thoughts with 
heavenly tints like these." She stopped, for the tears 
were falling and her voice failed her ; but there was 
something infinitely touching in Alice's simple, child- 
like faith, and the quiet words " I do thank Him '* 
seemed to furnish the key-note to the sweet, peaceful 
music of her life. 

And Miss Morgan thought of the words, " When 
He giveth quietness, who then can make trouble ?" 



153 



CHAPTER X. 

"A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

September came, and its fresh, cool enlivening 
breezes did Alice so much good that the fresh air and 
judicious treatment of the past six months began 
really to tell upon her in increasing strength and con- 
sequent activity. She moved about the house with- 
out crutches, and with their aid went to the different 
shops for her mother, and even walked the half 
mile to the grammar-school one evening, when she 
had some work to take home. Better still, she 
was able now to attend to the shop sometimes and 
set her mother free to breathe the fresh air and take a 
little exercise, so that Mrs. Winter, as well as her 
daughter, gained strength, Alice had a very sweet 
voice, and as she sang at her work her mother's heart 
listened thankfully, and she thought other cares would 
become light by comparison if only her delicate girl 
should at last grow strong. 



154 "A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

Meanwhile the "School Fund" was growing 
steadily. Mrs. Mcintosh kept Alice employed with 
the various little fanciful devices for comfort which 
the head master's wife thought necessary for her 
drawing-room, so that with banner-screens, ottomans, 
and an elaborate border for a table-cloth, Alice had 
constant work for her fingers — quite as much as she 
could accomplish in fact, for she studied diligently, 
and Mr. Marshall was very particular in insisting on 
two hours out of doors at least every day. 

Jessie was very anxious to give her pupil an extra 
half hour daily now that she was learning so well and 
seemed able to bear it ; but although she turned the 
matter over and over again in her mind, she did not 
see how it could be done without neglecting her hon>e 
duties, so she gave it up at last, only setting her wits 
to work to give Alice so much variety in the one hour 
that she had double to do afterwards. This teaching 
and explaining, and contriving ways and means to 
make the best of a limited space of time, did Jessie 
very gpreat good ; it was impossible to dream so much 
as formerly when her mind was forced to fix itself on 
a given object, and much to her astonishment she 
found that her story-books and poetry were more 
delightful than ever when they came in the way of 
luxury, and were no longer made of the first im- 
portance. She felt herself sadly backward when, 
after only six months' study, Alice took up fractions 



"A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 155 

with the greatest ease. Jessie frankly owned that she 
had advanced no farther, and asked help of her pupil 
when Miss Morgan put her into a new rule ; thence- 
forward the two worked together, and Jessie profited 
considerably. Alice had a very clear head, and 
whereas at one time Jessie had termed it a barbarous 
practice to have poetry to parse, and called it almost 
as horrid as pulling a flower to pieces (which in prose- 
cuting the study of botany she had often to do), she 
began now to exercise her reasoning powers and to 
take pleasure in " anatomising a sentence," which was 
an expression her brother Tom had taught her some 
time ago, when he used to find her in tears with 
poetry and grammar before her, lamenting her hard 
lot and indignantly giving to the science of language 
every hard name which her own or her brothers' 
vocabulary could furnish. 

It was one day late in September, that Mrs. Winter 
had to go to Lincoln on business connected with her 
shop, and Alice, left in charge, was re-arranging a 
packet of Avools which the caprices of a customer had 
left in somewhat bewildering disorder, when the little 
bell rang, and Fraulein entered. 

" You here, Alice ? and you find you can do it 
without fatigue ?" she exclaimed. 

"Yes, ma*am, thank you; mother had to go to 
Lincoln, and I can manage most comfortably," and 
Fraulein noticed that she moved without her crutches. 



IS6 "A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

"Ah! the lovely dolls!" she said, noticing some 
which in make and attire were decidedly French. 

Alice displayed them to still greater advantage, and 
asked Fraulein if she would be so kind as to tell her 
what the printing meant which was on the box they 
had come in. 

The sentence was a simple one, relating to the 
price, and when Fraulein had quickly translated it, she 
asked : " Then you do not understand the language, 
Alice ?" 

"Oh, no." 

This was a state of things astonishing to the German 
lady, to whom French was as natural as her own 
tongue, and she said eagerly : " Would you not like to 
learn?" 

" For some things I should very much ; but then I 
am never likely to go to France, or to have to do with 
French people." 

" It is quite impossible to say what one may have 
to do in the course of a life. But even in this busi- 
ness, for instance, some knowledge of French would 
be of use." 

" Yes, it certainly would ; and in reading books I 
am often puzzled by quotations, only Miss Jessie is 
good enough to explain." 

Fraulein said no more on the subject, but inquired 
for some knitting-cotton, and before she left the shop. 



"A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." I $7 

two or three other customers came in, so that Alice 
soon forgot all about the French. 

The German lady, however, did not. She went 
home and consulted with Miss Morgan, and the next 
day came and proposed to Alice to give her lessons 
twice a week, if she would go to the school for half-an- 
hour every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon. 

The plan was a charming one, and Alice signified 
her grateful acceptance of Fraulein's kindness, and 
astonished Jessie very much that afternoon when she 
communicated it to her. 

Now Jessie having taken Alice in hand, had a sort 
of feeling that she did not want any help in instructing 
her. But she was too generous to give heart-room to 
so unworthy a thought, as soon as she remembered the 
advantage it would be to Alice, and although it did at 
first give her a pang when she found her entire care 
was to be interfered with, she was able with perfect 
truthfulness to say, "That will be very nice, Alice, 
and you are sure to get on ; I am very glad." 

"I knew you would be, Miss Jessie." 

The words gave Jessie a little sting, for she saw that 
Alice thought better of her than she deserved, but this 
feeling humbled her, for she always felt when anyone 
over-estimated her, that she would try very hard to 
deserve the good opinion which she knew at the time 
to be undeserved. So she said directly, " You will 
enjoy lessons with Fraulein, she is so kind." 



158 "A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

" I think everyone is very kind,** said Alice. 

Jessie laughed. 

•* Well, I don't exactly ag^ee with you there, Alice, 
for I think some people are horribly unpleasant ; but 
you are certainly right about Fraulein." 

Alice felt a good deal alarmed as she rang the bell 
at the school door the first Wednesday afternoon, and 
the noise it made set her heart beating so fast, that 
she could scarcely speak when the maid opened it 
Alice could never reconcile it with her sense of pro- 
priety to say " Fraulein " alone, it sounded so very 
familiar, and Mrs. Winter, for the same reason, always 
5poke of her as " Miss Fraulein." Her daughter knew 
this could not be correct, so that in her anxiety to be 
perfectly polite, she asked for Miss Schroder, and 
then she found the maid did not know to whom she 
alluded. 

" The German lady," explained Alice. 

" Oh, Fraulein ? yes, miss, she's in the study," and 
the maid led the way into a very tiny room, with book- 
shelves all round it, except in one recess by the fire, 
where was a small piano. The round table was 
•covered with exercises, and Fraulein was busy writing 
as Alice came in. 

She greeted her very kindly, laughed as she showed 
her a formidable looking exercise, nearly all wrong to 
judge by the numerous words and sentences scored 
through with a very determined stroke of the pen ; 




'" This is ray garden," said Marian, "do you like flowers;'" '—Page 159. 



"A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 1 59 

then she began to teach, and Alice came to the end of 
her lesson very satisfactorily. 

" You can do this exercise at home, and learn this, 
and this," pointing to what she had marked in a little 
book near her, and then she went with her to the school 
door. 

The garden reached quite up to it, and as Alice 
came out, a burst of merry laughter greeted her, and 
turning round, she saw Marian Francis and little Sophy 
nailing up a refractory branch of the rose-tree trained 
against the wall. They recc^nised her at once, and 
asked her how she was. Then darting up to Frau- 
lein, Sophy said eagerly, " May we take Alice round 
the garden ?'* 

" By all means ; I will come too," and tying her 
handkerchief over her head, out she came. 

" This is my garden," said Marian. ** Do you like 
flowers }" 

" Yes, very much." 

Marian made immediate use of her knife, and cut 
off* a beautiful white phlox, some scarlet salvia, and 
her one beloved violet verbena. 

Alice received them gratefully. Then Sophy did 
the honours of her own little piece of ground, and added 
a spray of drooping crimson fuchsia, some mignonette, 
and brilliant blue borage, to the treasures already in 
Alice's hand. The little gardens were very neatly 
kept, and the two girls found their visitor fully able to 



l60 "A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

appreciate their merits ; there were six in a row, and 
the last had a clump of ribbon grass, upon which 
Sophy cast envious eyes, and then flew off" to the other 
end of the playground, to ask permission of its owner 
to gather some. The young lady came back with her, 
and having been one of those who had helped to wheel 
Alice's chair on the sands at Saltby, expressed herself 
delighted to see her so much better, and then the three, 
with Fraulein in their rear, led Alice all over the play- 
ground, into the summer-house, where some of the 
girls were working, out again to the croquet-ground, 
where Miss Stansfield was doing her best to make a 
party of six play amicably together, and over all the 
sun of late September threw a soft glow, as it cast 
flickering shadows on the grass from the leaves of the 
old birch-Jree by the summer-house, and fell slanting 
through the tall raspberry canes which bordered the 
play-ground on the west. 

*' It was very pleasant indeed, and there was some- 
thing in the contact with so much warm young life 
that was very inspiriting to Alice, and when at last 
Miss Morgan came out and spoke kindly to her, she 
felt it was perfect, and in her own affectionate regard 
for that lady she formed an estimate of the additional 
pleasure which her presence must bring to her pupils, 
which was rather wide of the mark ; for though the 
stately governess had unbent a good deal since the 
Midsummer holidays, old associations are strong, and 



"A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." l6l 

she still inspired more fear than love in the hearts of 
the young people around her. 

As she turned away from the lively groups on 
the play-ground, Jessie ran up, and as she saw 
Alice so happy and bright, and noticed that 
Marian and Sophy seemed on very easy terms 
with her, the jealous feeling came again with a 
smarting soreness in her heart, and though she 
did not show it, there it was and it made her very 
uncomfortable. 

Did she only care for Alice because hitherto she 
had been everything to her, and, after her own rela- 
tions, first in her affections ? Could she really rightly 
care for her if when she saw her happy with others, 
the sight of that happiness displeased her > was she 
really glad that Alice was stronger, now that she saw 
that her ability to move about brought her into con- 
tact with others beside herself.? would she really 
rather that Alice had continued weak and lame, so 
that she might be everything to her.? These and 
countless other questions of the kind came quick and 
strong into Jessie's heart that September night, as she 
lay in bed, with her curly head hidden beneath the 
coverings and hot tears falling fast, and yet bringing 
no relief. 

" Jessie, my darling, what is the matter .?" 

It was her mothers voice. She had entered so 
quietly that Jessie, covered up as she was, had not 

II 



1 62 "A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

' heard her. " What is it, darling ?" said Mrs. Marshall 
again. 

At first it was a struggle to tell ; her thoughts 
seemed so wrong, and her heart condemned her so 
strongly ; but that soft hand so tenderly smoothing 
her hair, and those dear, sweet words which mothers 
know so well how to use, soon overcame her scruples, 
and she rested her weary head on her mamma's 
shoulder and sobbed out her confession. 

Mrs. Marshall said little about the sin of jealousy, 
she thought Jessie was feeling it deeply enough, but 
she spoke much of that loving Saviour who has left us 
so wondrous an example of unselfishness, and she 
told her that truly to serve Him, she must learn to 
prefer others before herself, and cultivate that charity 
which envieth not ; and what made all this sink very 
deeply into her little daughter's heart was the assur- 
ance that she knew how to feel for her, because she 
had known what it was to be jealous herself. 

" You, mamma, were you ever really jealous .?" 

" Listen, dear, and I will tell you about it. You 
know I never had a sister, and that I went away to 
school very early. I was happy there after a certain 
fashion till a new girl came — " 

" What was her name, mamma ?" 

" Amelia Curtis ; she was always called Milly at 
school Well, I must tell you about it, Jessie ; she was 
a tall girl two years older than I was, and you know 



•'A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 1 63 

^mong school girls two years makes a great difference. 
She was very stiff and haughty — frozen — the others 
said, and no one liked her at all. But I did — more 
than that, I loved her, I studied her every wish, and 
followed her about devotedly, and whenever (as on 
rare occasions did happen) she showed by word or 
sign that she appreciated my attention, I was ex- 
tremely happy, I know the others thought it foolish 
of me to think so much of her, and perhaps it was ; I 
don't know ; but I was sure she had a loving heart if 
one only could find it. Two years passed, and my 
persevering attachment had thawed her at last, and I 
cannot tell you how happy we were together. Some 
people speak slightingly of school-girls* friendships, 
but I am quite sure of this, that never since I have 
been grown up have I loved a friend more devotedly 
than I loved Milly. For some time we were as happy 
as possible, no one interfered between us — ^we were all 
in all to each other. Then a new girl came, Ellen Wright, 
and although she soon saw that I was Milly's only 
friend, she thrust herself between us, and at last she 
won my friend's affections quite away from me, and I 
had to bear coldness and indifference from the girl 
whose heart I had thawed only as it seemed that she 
might lavish her love on some one else. Even now, 
Jessie, after more than thirty years, I cannot dwell 
upon the pain that trouble gave me ; I was utterly 
unhappy. The girls saw how the case stood and were 

II — 2 



l64 "A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

very kind to me, but nothing seemed to make up for 
the lost friendship. At last comfort came to me in a 
way I had not expected, for all my sorrow weighed 
upon me so, that I became ill and was taken from 
school for a while, and sent quite away into the 
country. I could not foiget Milly, though she had 
quite given me up. The place I went to was very 
quiet, and there were no books but those of a religious 
kind ; these I shunned at first, but lack of others 
induced me to read them, and something tangible in 
them, an idea of something to rest upon which would 
not change, soothed me very much ; and then I began 
to read my Bible with a new meaning, and before 
long I was enabled to rest my troubled heart on the 
thought of our dear Saviour's love, and that comforted 
me more than I can tell you. But then, as I began 
to serve Him, I found, Jessie, that I must forgive 
Ellen, and feel kindly to Milly, and be willing to see 
another preferred before me. It was not easy, but 
God gave me strength, and afterwards, when I went 
back to school, I had many a hard struggle, but the 
victory was given to me at last." 

** Dear mamma !" said Jessie, holding her mother 
very tightly. 

** I do not mean to say, darling, that your case and 
mine are similar, because to a certain extent they are 
quite different; but you are like your mother in 
throwing all your heart into what you care for at all. 



"A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 16$ 

and I think, dearest, if you let this little warning do 
its work, it may save you much trouble. Pray for 
unselfishness, my darling, and cultivate it, throwing 
yourself in the background and thinking of others 
first. It may seem odd to you, but at last I really 
was able to be glad that Milly and Ellen were friends, 
because I think Ellen was more likely to suit her than 
I was, and feeling that her friendship was more for 
Milly's happiness than mine would have been, I be- 
came reconciled at last, after a hard struggle." 

" I think it was horridly unkind of both of them ; I 
can't think how you ever forgave them." 

" God helps us to do many difficult things, which 
sometimes seem impossible, and so, dearest, do not 
despair ; only try to keep 

" * A heart at leisure from itself 
To soothe and sympathise,' 

and ask for help ; it will surely be given. It does not 
do, my darling child, to rest too much on anything 
earthly, however good in itself it may be. To love 
God above all, and our neighbour as ourselves, that is 
what we must aim at ; and God is faithful. He will not 
allow us to be tempted above what we are able tb 
bear; so take courage, dear child." 

" Yes, mamma ; thank you." 

Then Jessie lay down, and her mother left her after 
a loving good night, 



l66 **A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

True, indeed, are the words of Scripture, " As one 
ivhom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.** 

After this, when Alice talked delightedly of the 
pleasure her French lessons gave her, or spoke of any 
kindness she had received, Jessie checked the uncom- 
fortable thoughts which would enter her heart, with 
the thought, " If I really love Alice I shall delight in 
what pleases her ;" and all these efforts made in Grod's 
strength did their work in time ; and making use of 
every little incident in her daily life to help her on in 
the service of her Saviour, she really grew in grace, 
and as her parents and Miss Moigan watched her 
progress, they remembered that it is said of the Lord's 
people, " They go from strength to strength." 

And Alice was also growing in her experience of 
God's love, and in the knowledge of how much happi- 
ness there is in the world, even for those afflicted 
as she was, but she would never have recognised it 
had she made this world her all. No ! when rightly 
we realise our high calling as children of God and 
heirs of salvation, then only can we rightly estimate 
the trials of this life, and say quietly and with cajm 
assurance, " Our light affliction, which is but for a 
moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory." 

All this time the school-plan was kept a profound 
secret ; with the exception of Mr. Eaton no one knew 
of it, beyond Jessie and her parents and Alice's 



167 

mother and sister. As the winter drew on Jessie had 
many conversations with her mamn>a on the subject, 
-and when Mr. Marshall said he saw no reason why 
Alice should -not commence it at Easter, his wife 
thought it would be as well if the project were men- 
tioned, in order to give people time to think before 
■deciding about sending their children to Alice, so 
Jessie went in high glee to tell the doctor's opinion. 

" Work first, pleasure afterwards," was a motto she 
was eagerly trying to remember, so she conscien- 
tiously finished the sums and the heavier portion of 
the hour's work before entering on the subject ; but no 
sooner was she set at liberty than she said, joyously, 
^' Alice, what do you think } papa says he thinks you 
will be well enough to begin your school at Easter!" 

** At Easter } oh. Miss Jessie, does he really ? how 
nice.1 but I never thought of beginning it till next 
Midsummer." 

" I know ; but papa thinks Easter would be best, 
because he says you are sure to find the first quarter 
rather fatiguing, and it would be better for you to 
have the Midsummer holidays after the end of three 
months than to have the whole half year from July 
till Christmas without a break — don't you see ?" 

" Oh, yes. Miss Jessie, I see ; but do you think 1 
should be ready — in my learning — I mean V 

** Mamma thought if you didn't mind she would 
tell Miss Morgan about it, and perhaps she would 



1 68 "A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 

examine you a little and see," said Jessie. " She will be 
a better judge than / am, though I am sure you have 
worked most wonderfully well, and / think you are 
quite up to it." 

Sad to relate, lessons languished after that little 
conversational interlude, and the girls were chattering 
together about forms, and stoves, and books, and all 
manner of things scholastic, when suddenly Miss. 
Morgan walked in. 

" You here, Jessie ! Well, Alice, is she talking you^ 
to death r 

*' Oh, no, ma'am ; thank you." 

Both girls blushed a deep red ; they had never yet 
been caught in the midst of lessons, and it would be 
hard to say which felt most confused. 

Miss Morgan looked at the sums and noticed the 
neatness of an exercise lying open on the table, and 
then said, "You must be clever enough, Alice, to- 
teach others by this time ; do you know, I have 
often thought how nice it would be if you had a little 
day-school." 

Jessie seized Miss Morgan and kissed her vehe- 
mently, a proceeding so unusual that it was difficult 
to understand at first. Alice's " Do you really think 
so, ma'am ?" threw a little light on the subject, and 
she said as well as she could for Jessie's embrace, " It 
is not a new idea, then ?" 

** Oh, dear, no ! we've thought of it ever since last 



"A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF." 1 69 

April, the twelfth was the day — how well I remember 
it ! Alice has been working so hard, and there's a 
room at the back, and papa says she will be strong 
enough by Easter, and Mr. Eaton says there are 
heaps of children ; and oh ! dear Miss Morgan, I am 
so glad you are come, we want to consult you. It has 
been a profound secret up to this very afternoon — 
that is to say, Mrs. Winter knew it, and Miss Winter,, 
and papa, and mamma, and Mr. Eaton, but that's all ; 
and oh ! Alice, may I tell all about John Fry ?" 

"John Fry ? are you going wild, Jessie ?" 

" Oh, no 1 may I, Alice ?" 

"Yes, Miss Jessie, anything you like." 

So Jessie and Alice together told the whole story,, 
and Miss Morgan, sitting between them, entered into* 
it thoroughly, and was altogether so nice and sympa- 
thising that Jessie felt for the first time she really 
loved her, and that was a step gained. 

" I think it an excellent plan and sure to succeed, 
with God's blessing," she said, kindly, laying a hand 
on Alice's, and drawing Jessie closer to her ; "sure to 
succeed ; and now tell me if I can help you at all." 

" If you would examine Alice and see if she is fit," 
said Jessie, " we should be so much obliged." 

"Yes, with pleasure. To-morrow, Alice, you will 
come for your French lesson ; when that is over, I will 
examine you to your heart's content. Will that do .^'^ 

"Yes, indeed, ma'am, thank you." 



I/O "A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF/' 

" It would be a good plan for it to be mentioned in 
the Christmas holidays. Mrs. White — I am sure her 
children want teaching, they are tumbling about the 
shop all hours of the day ; Mrs. Franklin's too." 

" Mr. Eaton thought of them," said Alice, and Jessie 
added, that both papa and Mr. Eaton meant to re- 
commend the school, and asked "if Miss Moigan 
would do so too ?" 

The lady smiled, " I think I may safely do so, but 
in my character of examiner I suppose I must wait 
till to-morrow's ordeal has been gone through. Which 
is the school-room ?" and then Alice opened the door 
and called her mother. 

Mrs. Winter looked very pleased as Miss Morgan 
said warmly, " What a good plan it was," and then 
they went in a body to the room at the back of the 
toy-shop. 

" Capital !" said Miss Morgan, when Alice ex- 
plained about the curtain ; then turning she added, " I 
have a pair of green baize curtains I had made for the 
side passage, before the study was built ; I do not 
think they are at all the worse ; if you would allow 
me, Mrs. Winter, I should be glad to give them to 
Alice." 

It was a kind offer, and so courteously made that 
Mrs. Winter felt no scruple in accepting it at once, 
and Jessie's delight, though more out-spoken, was not 
at all more sincere than Alice's. 



**A HEART AT LEISURE FROM ITSELF. 171 

" That entrance is just the thing ; you will want a 
double row of hooks by the wall, for the children to 
hang up their hats ; and that window being so high is 
a great advantage, they cannot possibly look out into 
the street." This last little speech was so like the Miss 
Morgan of old times, that Jessie wondered to hear 
her next remark, " The room is very cold, you must 
have a stove or fire-place." 

Jessie thought over these two sentences, and came 
to the conclusion that Miss Morgan did not really 
grudge what was pleasant, but only objected to what 
was likely to be a hindrance to lessons. 

" A few forms and a table are all you want at first ; 
it is a very comfortable room, and this little passage 
between it and the parlour most usefully cuts off the 
communication of noise ;" and then Miss Moi^an had 
finished her survey. 



T72 



CHAPTER XI. 

BUSINESS. 

" Good morning, Mrs. White," said Mr. Eaton, as he 
entered the butcher's shop one cold morning; " is your 
husband better ?" 

" Thank you, sir, yes. Will you please to walk in > 
hell be glad to sec you." 

The clergyman entered the little parlour by the side 
of the shop, where Mr. White was sitting in an arm- 
chair, looking very weak and ill, after a severe attack 
of rheumatic fever. There were three children playing 
about, and it was plain enough to see, though their 
father made no complaint, that their noise nearly dis- 
tracted him. On the entrance of Mr. Eaton, they 
were summarily turned into the shop, with a caution 
not to play with the knives, the bare suggestion of 
which seemed horrible to the clergyman. 

" Why don't you send them to school r he asked. 

Mr. Eaton had really come with the intention of 



BUSINESS. 173 

sounding the butcher and his wife on this subject, but 
he had not expected to meet with so favourable an 
opportunity for recommending Alice, and the question 
escaped him most naturally. 

"There's no school to send them to," was the 
answer wearily given by the suffering man. "The 
infant-school's too far off, and if it wasn't, it isn't what 
I should care to send 'em to, begging your pardon, 
sir." 

This finishing clause bore reference to the supposition 
that there existed a strong link of interest between 
the clergyman and everything which he superintended, 
and that to speak disparagingly of one, was a slight to 
the other ; but Mr. Eaton did not take it at all in 
that light ; he merely asked if they would send them 
to a school nearer home ? 

*' Yes, sir, thankfully, if there was such a place." 

" Miss Winter at the toy-shop means to open a day- 
school at Easter, I know." 

" What ! that poor little deformed thing ?" exclaimed 
Mrs. White. 

" Yes, she is much stronger than she was, and Miss 
Morgan says she is quite fitted for the post, so I think 
she cannot do better." 

" What age is she, sir ? she looks but a child. But 
there, when poor creatures are so afflicted, it's hard to 
tell how old they are." 

" She is nearly seventeen." 



174 BUSINESS. 

" She's a well-mannered little thing, Til say that for 
her," said the butcher's wife, as if it was necessary to 
find out all that was commendable in one so different 
from other girls. 

" And a plucky one, too," added the butcher. " It 
isn't so easy to go along as if nothing was the matter, 
when people all turn to look, and the boys make re- 
marks, as IVe known 'em to do on that poor girl, when 
she first began to go about last summer." 

" They don't feel it ; that's what I always say, and a 
mercy it is," said Mrs. White. 

" There I think you make a mistake," said Mr. 
Eaton, kindly. " I think she does feel it very much ; 
but there are two ways of meeting trials, and Alice 
Winter accepts hers patiently, because she knows that 
her life is as her heavenly Father willed it, and there- 
fore is for the best." 

" Ah, well, poor girl ! she's need of some consolation. 
What do you say, master, shall the bairns go .?" 

" Ay, and welcome, if the charge suits. What's it 
likely to be, sir ?" 

" That I do not know ; but if Mrs. White would 
call on Miss Winter, that could soon be settled ; but 
she does not begin till Easter." 

** Two whole months," said the butcher, wearily. 

" Perhaps the snow will soon go," said Mr. Eaton, 
** then they can get out more." 

" My sister offered for them to go there for a bit, 



BUSINESS. 175 

while my husband get's better ; but Td thought for 
them to go when better weather comes, but if she's in 
the same mind, Til send 'em there next Tuesday/* 

" That would be a very good plan," and then Mn 
Eaton began to talk on other subjects. 

Mrs. White was a great talker, and the clergyman 
could not have placed the school in the hands of a 
better advertiser, and this no doubt he had been quite 
aware of. He mentioned it (not with much eagerness) 
to several others that day ; he spoke about it in a 
matter-of-course way, because he knew very well that 
to insist upon the necessity for a day-school, and to 
recommend it very earnestly would most likely have 
the effect of deterring people from trying it, so he 
simply mentioned it, and left the idea to work in the 
minds of his hearers. 

As to Mrs. White, her mind was full of it, and she 
soon had an opportunity of imparting it, for the shop- 
bell rang just after Mr. Eaton left, and Mrs. Shepherd 
from the china-shop entered to make a purchase. 

" Have you heard of this new school that is to be, 
Mrs. Shepherd r 

" No ; what sort } Who is going to keep it }** 

" Miss Winter, at the toy-shop ; she begins at 
Easter ; Mr. Eaton recommends her, and if the charge 
suits, we mean to send our three." 

"That poor deformed girl !" exclaimed Mrs. Shep- 
herd, as the butcher's wife had exclaimed before her. 



176 BUSINESS. 

" Yes ; but she's older than you*d think, and seems 
a likely sort of person. I mean to call there this 
afternoon." 

" I'll go with you, if you don't mind, for that Joey 
of mine worrits the life out of me, in and out as he is 
among the pots. Come to think of it now, have they 
room in yon house V* 

" Well, we'd best go and see, so you be ready by 
three this afternoon, and I'll be dressed to go with 
you. If things suit, it will be a weight off my mind." 

It Was well that Alice had taken counsel with Mrs. 
Marshall and Miss Morgan, and was prepared to state 
ten shillings a quarter as her charge for each pupil, for 
two such early applications were quite unexpected, 
and she felt extremely nervous, and glad to have the 
interview over. It was satisfactory to her, however, 
and both Mrs. White and Mrs. Shepherd seemed well 
pleased with the prospect, only regretting that she was 
not going to begin at once. 

And so for some little time in Beckford, the new 
school that was to be was quite the first topic of 
interest amongst anxious mothers and fathers. It 
was well that Alice did not hear the endless discus- 
sions about the terms, with the numberless instances 
brought forward to prove that in other schools of the 
kind, eight and sixpence or nine shillings had been 
charged, but seldom ten, and that extra eighteenpence 
made the balance against Alice tremble mightily. 



BUSINESS. 177 

For those who were at liberty to do so, it was really 
curious to observe how the additional sum rose in im- 
portance as the subject was talked about over and 
over again, and what might be bought with the shilling 
or eighteenpence saved, seemed a most conclusive 
testimony to the truth of a favourite idea of careful 
people that " a little money can be made to go a long 
way." 

V ** Six shillings at the end of the year ! why, it would 
nearly find a child in shoes," said one economical 
parent. 

" Or books. Those day-schools charge up for sta- 
tionery, as they call it," remarked a second. 

" Call it four shillings," said another, *' that would 
buy a new hat, trimming and all, or a frock. Yes, it*s 
a large sum." 

Then, too, Mrs. White was accused of giving herself 
airs, because she had been the first to know of the 
school. This led to inquiries (rather wide of the im- 
mediate subject) about Mrs. WhiteV family and friends, 
one of whom had been known to be in service some 
years ago, and therefore why need Mrs. White take 
upon herself to hold her head so high as she did, with 
her chignon and a thick plait, which all the world 
might see was false ? That was a point on which 
Mrs. Franklin would like to be informed, and her own 
abundant black ringlets, which anyone not absolutely 
blind could see to be all real, seemed to bear out 

12 



178 BUSINESS. 

the justice of her wishes to be satisfied on this 
matter. 

Alice happily was ignorant of all the talk her pro- 
ject caused, and they had made so few acquaintances 
in Beckford that no kindly gossip had the opportunity 
of bringing to the toy-shop all the little worrying 
details which would assuredly have disturbed her 
peace of mind as well as her,mother s. She was fully 
occupied, working hard with Jessie and Fraulein, 
besides netting and executing other orders which she 
was anxious to get through so as to have ready-money 
to pay for her forms and the table necessary for the 
school-room. It was nownearly the middle of February, 
and she hoped to go with her mother in a few days to 
the furniture shop and make their selection. 

"You look wonderfully bright," said Jessie one 
afternoon as she entered the parlour. 

*' Read that, Mi3s Jessie, and you will wonder no 
longer," and she placed before her a letter in a mascu- 
line hand. 

Jessie read, and expressed her opinion that it was 
one of the kindest letters she had ever seen, and so 
without doubt it was. John Fry was the writer of it, 
and he said Alice must allow him to show his grati- 
tude for his share in the benefit of her scheme by pro- 
viding all the forms and desks necessary for the school- 
room, adding ** and be sure you have a little three 
form ; I remember when I was a very small atom in 



BUSINESS. 179 

socksi sitting on a little form between two other 
atoms, arid very happy we used to be* ; so don't forget 
that" 

** Oh, what fun, Alice ; yes, of course you must 
have the little three-form and everything else — ^has he 
really sent you all that?'* as Alice displayed a five 
pound note. 

" Yes ; truly — is he not kind ?*' 

"When shall you go about the things ? do go soon." 

" Yes ; mother thinks there is no good in waiting, so 
we mean to go this evening ; only fancy how little I 
shall have to buy compared with what I calculated." 

" Well, I suppose we must set to work ; but really 
it is so much easier to talk, it gets quite exciting now. 
I should not see about a stove, if I were you, Alice, at 
present at least — not till you see what the other 
things cost." 

" No ; mother thinks that can wait a little ; it will 
be getting warm by Easter." 

" Now for Dr. Brewer. I am sure his ' Guide to 
Science ' will reduce us to order if anything can. 
' Why is the sky blue ?* that's a charming little ques- 
tion to answer, isn't it ?" 

That evening whilst Mrs. Winter and Alice were 
looking at tables, and calculating prices in the ware- 
house at the back of the furniture-shop, Mr. Marshall 
was making inquiries for Jessie about the stove upon 
which she had set her heart, and for which she had 

12—2 



l8o BUSINESS, 

been saving up her money for some months. She was 
very much delighted when he told her he thought it 
would be just what was needed, only something would 
have to be done to the room, as there must be an iron 
pipe in default of a chimney, but including that, the 
price would still be within the compass of her means, 
and so the stove was decided upon. 

" Oh, Miss Jessie, it really is too much," said Alice 
when she heard of it, and she shed a few happy 
tears ; " everything seems made so easy for me/* she 
added. 

** Oh, you will have plenty of hard work," said Mrs. 
Marshall, "don't be afraid; and it makes Jessie so 
happy to be able to help a little." 

"Can you get the forms and table for the five 
pounds ?" inquired Jessie. 

" Yes : a table, two long forms, and the little form* 
and the double row of hooks as well ; and what is over 
just pays for inkstands. The forms and table have to 
be made, but I can have them by the middle of 
March." 

" That's right ; oh ! Alice, I do so long to see you 
' monarch of all you survey.' " 

It would be scarcely possible for any lady to take 
greater pleasure in the arrangement of her drawing- 
room than did Alice in the setting out of her school- 
room. The floor had been well scrubbed, the window 
cleaned, and a neat muslin blind put before it ; the 



BUSINESS. 18 1 

green curtain was hung from side to side and con- 
cealed her Bath-chair and the various packing-cases ; 
the stove was at the other end. In the middle of the 
room stood a long table, with leaves which could be 
let down to make desks ; the long forms stood one on 
each side, while by the stove, conveniently near to the 
mistress's chair (which was an ordinary one from the 
parlour), was placed the little three-form which John 
had insisted upon. When ever)^hing was arranged 
nicely. Miss Morgan and Fraulein were invited to see 
it, and Jessie and Alice were much gratified by their 
expressions of satisfaction. A note came the same 
evening from Miss Morgan, which seemed rather 
strange as she had been there so recently. Alice 
opened it and read — 

" The Grove, Beckford, 

" Thursday Evening. 

" Dear Alice, 

"Both Fraulein and I consider your school- 
room perfect, except in one respect. The young 
ladies, thinking beforehand that you would very likely 
neglect this one matter of importance, had decided 
upon presenting you with a chair for yourself, but 
would not send it until I was able to inform them that 
you needed it before anything else. 

" TTiey now beg your acceptance of the arm-chair, 
wKich you will receive this evening, with their best 



1 82 BUSINESS. 

wishes for your success in your praiseworthy under- 
taking. 

"They hope you will find the chair comfortable, 
and little Miss Sophy wishes me to say that she looks 
forward some day to seeing you in it ; and she hopes 
that your pupils will not give you much trouble, and 
Aiake your head ache. 

" Believe me, dear Alice, 

" Your true friend, 

"Barbara Morgan." 

The next day Alice wrote in reply — 

" Market Place, Beckford. 

" Friday Morning* 

" My Dear Madam, 

'•^It is quite impossible for me to tell the 
young ladies how much I feel their kindness. The 
chair is beautiful and exceedingly comfortable, and 
I shall be much obliged if you will give them my 
most sincere thanks for their truly kind and thought- 
ful present. We have placed it by the stove, and if 
Miss Sophy and the other young ladies would like to 
see how it looks, I can only say I shall be most happy 
to see them. 

" Again thanking them very much indeed, 
" I am, my dear Madam, 

" Yours very gratefully, 

"Alice Winter." 



BUSINESS. 183 

Accordingly that afternoon the whole body of four- 
teen girls invaded the toy-shop precincts, and very 
great was the pleasure testified at the sight of every- 
thing so neat and nice, and the arm-chair, with its 
soft cushions and pretty chintz cover, was exactly 
suited to Alice, and she looked very comfortable 
when the girls installed her in it that they might 
fancy her sitting in state. 

As to Robin, all he could say when he first saw 
the room was that, " it was real handsome ; and he 
hoped they young *uns wouldn't be too much for 
Miss Alice." 

Jessie had so entirely conquered her selfishness 
with regard to her pupil that she was able thoroughly 
to enter into the pleasure which the last most wel- 
come present had given, and did not grudgg her 
schoolfellows any of the affectionate gratitude which 
she saw Alice bestow on them. 

The Wednesday in Easter week was the day fixed 
for the opening of the school, and when the young 
untried teacher awoke that morning, it was with a 
feeling of great responsibility and some amount of 
distrust of her own powers. The promise, " He 
giveth liberally," helped her to hope as she prayed 
for wisdom in her new path of duty, that it would be 
given her, and she was ready with a quiet mind for 
the reception of her little scholars at nine o'clock. 

In they came — one after the other — some with 



l84 BUSINESS. 

mothers, others under the charge of elder sisters, who 
left them with a warning " to behave," after speaking 
a few words to Alice. There were ten children in all, 
the eldest of whom was nine — the rest of all ages, 
from four upwards. There they stood, all in a group, 
looking considerably frightened ; and they made a 
great amount of noise and shuffling, as Alice called 
over the names and placed them by ages in a semi- 
circle. She had thought of beginning the day's work 
by reading a chapter in the Bible or a psalm, but with 
so many little ones this seemed out of the question, 
so she asked them if they could sing 

" There is a happy land, 
Far, far away." 

Finding that some of them knew it, she began to sing 
it, and very soon they all joined in ; most of them 
knew the tune, and a few had some idea of the words, 
and altogether it was very well for a first attempt. 

" You must learn what you don't know of it by to- 
morrow," she said to the elder ones, and one of them 
offered to teach it to the little ones, so that point was 
happily settled. Then Alice spoke to them a little 
about the Happy Land, and talked in simple language 
which the youngest could understand, of the Good 
Shepherd, who loves His little lambs, and is ever ready 
to lead them to that bright world where He has gone 
before ; and then she told them all to sit down and 
she would see what they could do. 




'It was diflicult to find employ nieiit for the six who could not rend, but slu; set them iill 
to copying A B C lu printing letters on their »hiics.'— Page 1H.'>. 



BUSINESS. 185 

The first strangeness had worn off, and the little 
pupils showed signs of restlessness long before their 
teacher had arranged their tasks. She found that 
only four could read, and that but very indifferently ; 
however she made a class of them, at which they 
stared and laughed and looked anything but studious. 
Not one of them could write, and only two owned to 
a knowledge of the multiplication table. Under these 
circumstances it was difficult to find employment for 
the six who could not read, but she set them all to 
copying A B C, in printed letters on their slates, and 
then began the reading. Afterwards she set the 
readers an addition sum each, and took the little ones 
in hand, but it is not to be wondered at that when 
twelve o'clock came, she was exceedingly tired and 
very much confused as regards the best means of 
instructing her flock, and at the same time preventing 
the din which was so distracting. 

The afternoon was even worse, for some of the 
little girls brought needlework to do, and Alice was 
surprised to find how difficult it seemed for little 
fingers to hold a needle properly; and Mrs. Shepherdts 
Joey seemed to find much pleasure in pulling the work 
out of the girls' hands when Alice's back was turned,, 
so that there was a constant threading of needles. 
Then one of the thimbles was lost, and all the party 
joined in the search with great alacrity and enjoyment, 
so that when Jessie came into the parlour soon after 



1 86 BUSINESS. 

four, she found Alice with a flushed face and unmis- 
takable signs of headache, which there was no 
hiding effectually, though she tried to look cheerful 
in answer to Jessie's inquiry, "Well, how have you 
got on ?" 

It was disappointing to find the children had been 
so difficult to manage, and that the first day of school 
had not come up either to her own expectations or 
Alice's. Besides, it seemed quite impossible fbr Alice 
to read with such a headache, and for this, as a conse- 
quence of five hours in the school-room, Jessie had not 
calculated. But she encouraged Alice to talk over her 
difficulties, and then suggested dividing both morning 
and aflemoon into portions of twenty minutes or half- 
an-hour each, and fixing what each child should do in 
them. 

At this Alice brightened, and Jessie, who was well 
lip in school rules, was a great help to her, so that 
between them they drew up a very clear and suitable 
time-table, which Alice said she would copy out in 
large letters on a sheet of cardboard, and hang up in 
the school-room. 

" How did you find Alice ?" asked Mrs. Marshall, 
as Jessie settled little Lucy in her high chair by the 
tea-table. 

" Oh, so dreadfully tired ; those horrid children had 
been regular little plagues. Alice had such a head- 
ache, she could not read." 



BUSINESS. 187 

** I am sorry for that ; but you must remember how 
quiet her life has been hitherto, and she will have to 
feel her way and not expect too much while she is 
getting the children into order ; it will be easier in 
time." 

" I wonder if it would help her with the little child- 
ren, if she had a box of letters like Lucy's ?" 

*' I should think it would very much ; but one set 
would not be enough. Don't you think you could 
print some on cardboard ? I dare say Fred would 
help you." 

" What's that about me ?" asked the young gen- 
tleman in question, who just then came in with his 
brothers. 

" I was saying I thought you would help Jessie 
to print a set of letters for Alice Winter's little 
scholars." 

" Jolly ! When do you want them ?" 

" Oh, as soon as you like." 

*' Can't I do some ?" asked George. 

" If you won't blot, I should be very glad," said 
Jessie. 

" All right ; I'll run to the shop for some cardboard 
after tea, and we'll set to work ; we can get a whole 
lot done to-nighL" 

" Oh, thank you, Fred.** 

•* Oh, I'm a great advocate for * teaching the young 
idea ' by easy means, especially when the work's so 



1 88 BUSINESS. 

pleasant," and that wise speech of Fred's made Jessie 
laugh, and in devising the means for lightening Alice's 
toils the brothers and sister spent a very happy- 
evening, and finished the letters before they went to 
bed. 



1 89 



CHAPTER XII. 

SUCCESS. 

The letters were a great help to Alice, and with the 
aid of a judicious use of her time-table, she had at the 
end of a fortnight reduced her fidgety little party to 
something like order. But it was still hard work, and 
lessons with Jessie flagged very much, for Alice was 
always tired, and though she still read and worked 
sums, and studied geography, she seemed often dull 
and heavy, and the work lacked the spring and interest 
which had hitherto given it such enjoyment. It 
troubled Jessie very much, and one day she said to 
her mother, "Mamma, I can't think what is the 
matter with Alice, she always has a headache, and 
seems so tired." 

Mrs. Marshall had her own opinion as to the cause 
of the headaches, but she only said, " Does she go 
out every day .?'* 

"Yes ; at least when it*s fine, she goes for a walk 



igo SUCCESS. 

when school is over till dinner-time, and every evening 
Robin takes her in the chair ; but I feel quite unhappy 
about her ; she has not been like herself since she 
began the school : it is very disappointing." 

" So it is, dear ; shall I ask papa to see her ?** 

" If you would, please ; it worries me very much/* 

That evening Mr. Marshall came in just as Jessie 
was going to bed. 

" I have been to see Alice," he said. 

" Well, papa, what do you think r 

" That you mustn't overdo her with lessons, Jessie ; 
the school is as much as she can do with at present." 

" Oh, papa, must I give up teaching her r 

Jessie looked so very sad at the bare idea of this, 
that Mr. Marshall felt very sorry to say what neverthe- 
less seemed to him right. 

" You know, my dear, that teaching little children 
for five hours a day is really hard work, especially for 
a girl who is not very strong. It takes a good deal 
out of one to be always talking, and the noise, which 
can scarcely be avoided, is very trying. Then Alice 
is a conscientious teacher, and consequently very 
anxious to do her best and see improvement, and being 
new to the work, perhaps she expects rather too much 
at first. I don't wonder that she feels very tired when 
four o'clock comes." 

" Do you think it will do htr harm .?** 

" Not if she rests afterwards ; but I should think 



SUCCESS. 191 

she does not come fresh and brisk to lessons as for- 
merly, does she ?" 

" Oh, dear no ; it is quite different." 

" Well, my opinion is, and I said the same to Mrs. 
Winter, that when she comes out of the school-room 
in the afternoon, she ought not to study at all. She 
may read an interesting book, or go to sleep on the 
sofa if she can, or better still, go for a stroll in the 
fields, and rest her mind. I don't think in that case 
the teaching would hurt her ;. but she will do no good 
with learning when she is tired." 

Jessie looked very grave indeed. 

" She was getting on so nicely,** she said. 

" She has a whole holiday on Saturday. Would it 
hurt her if Jessie went for an hour only on that after- 
noon ?*' asked her mamma. 

" That would be a very different thing. No, I think 
that could safely be done ; but decidedly it must be 
dropped for the other days." 

'• I don't know how I shall tell Alice, she will think 
it so unkind." 

" No, she won't ; Mrs. Winter said they would have 
mentioned it, only they thought it would seem ungrate- 
ful to you. But I told them Alice's welfare was what 
you cared for, so you need not be afraid of telling Alice. 
What ! tears, Jessie ? a young lady of fourteen in tears!" 

Jessie brushed them hastily away, and kissing her 
father and mother, went to her room. 



192 SUCCESS. 

It was a great relief to Alice when she found she 
could obey the doctor's orders, sorry as she felt to give 
up the daily lessons with her dear Miss Jessie. But 
she was always so very tired, they had quite lost their 
charm, and now she felt she could do very well with 
Saturday's hour, and working up in the evenings. 
Fraulein still kept up the French lesson once a week, 
and Jessie grew reconciled to the change as she saw 
Alice her bright self again ; and sometimes when she 
accpmpanied her in her four o'clock stroll, she was 
greatly amused by the young school-mistress's ac- 
counts of her pupils, and her active brain suggested 
many plans by which both they and Alice were 
benefited. 

One day, with many apologies and thanks, Mrs. 
Winter told Mrs. Marshall she should feel more com- 
fortable herself to pay Robin for his services, instead 
of taxing the good doctor's kindness any longer. Mrs. 
Marshall knew that her husband considered it no tax, 
but she also quite understood the commendable feeling 
of independence on the part of the widow, so she said 
it should be so in future, adding that she hoped she 
had found the shop remunerative during the year she 
had been at Beckford. 

" Yes, ma'am, thank you ; on the whole it has done 
well, and we've tided over the worst difficulties. There 
was one trouble we could not see our way through — 
a debt of between six and seven pounds we had in- 



SUCCESS. I9J 

curred in the way of business ; but when everyone 
was so kind in furnishing Alice's room for her, she 
brought me her savings, which she said were not 
needed, and they just set us straight ; so now we can 
go on with free minds, thank God." 

" I think the school seems nice for her, and not too 
much, now she is not worried with study after it." 

" Yes, ma*am, indeed we are quite contented ; and 
she takes such pains, I think she can't fail to give 
satisfaction. I'm sure it is quite impossible to thank 
dear Miss Jessie for helping her to a livelihood." 

So the headaches subsided in time, and Joey grew 
less restive, as he found occupation for his lively 
young mind ; and by degrees Alice learnt something 
fresh, and that was, that it is not only in suffering, 
but also in doing that God is willing to help His 
children : and as she rested her cares on His Almighty 
arm, she grew less anxious and had a mind free to 
teach, and to do her best in the duty before her^ 
instead of worrying about how it would turn out 
Now and then Mrs. Marshall and Jessie, or Miss 
Morgan, or Fraulein and Miss Stansfield, with one or 
other of the young ladies, would come to see how she 
was getting on ; and when the first quarter was over, 
the holidays came with an unknown freshness to 
Alice, and she rested and recruited her powers most 
happily. 

When they were ended, and her work began again; 

13 



a94 SUCCESS. 

she had several additions to her number, and as two 
of the new comers were older than the others, and 
fairly advanced in their lessons, her work grew still 
more interesting, while experience came to her aid in 
the management of the tiny occupants of the " three- 
' form," and she proved herself to be a very patient and 
sensible teacher. 

Long before this Jessie had begun to devote her 
hour which Alice no longer needed to the instruction 
of little Lucy, and very pleasant she found it ; and 
still more delightful was it to know she was helping 
her dear mother, and that at school she was no longer 
quoted as an example of idleness, but that Miss 
Morgan trusted her fully, and entered into all her 
reasonable fancies. 

Meanwhile, not only at Beckford, but in Mr. Green's 
house of business at Norwich, and at the old water- 
mill in the meadows near Allanmede, there were two 
hearts very much interested in the well-doing of the 
little school behind the toy-shop. There was some 
time to wait still, but when a year and a half had 
gone, John began to furnish the old house, and at last 
the wedding was fixed for the 28th of June. 

No one besides the doctor's family and Miss 

Morgan, whom Jessie had told in confidence, knew 

what part Alice had had in bringing about this happy 

event ; but everyone was ready to be pleased and 

: sympathise in the happiness of the Winter family. 



SUCCESS. igjs 

Merrily rang the Beckford bells, and softly shone 
the June sunshine on the fresh green grass as John . 
and Charlotte Fry came out of the shadow of the 
grey church porch. 

There were many looking on, but no one more 
heartily rejoiced than Jessie, who in her childish days 
had done what she could for another's welfare, and 
was now able to see the reward. It brought a strange 
sweet feeling of hope and gladness to the heart of the 
young girl of sixteen as she thought how God blesses - 
little efforts, and she was more than ever resolved 
with His help to let slip no opportunity of doing good^ 
which came in her way; and not even Alice was- 
happier than she was on Charlotte's wedding-day. 

•X- ^ -x- -x- -x- i 

A year passed by, and Midsummer came round . 
again ; and one fine morning Miss Morgan, Jessie, and 
Alice all met on the platform at the railway station, 
on their way south to AUanmede. Jessie had never 
been beyond Lincoln in her life, and everything was* 
delightfully fresh and pleasant to her as the train 
whirled them past green fields and woods and quiet 
homesteads. She was ready with a quotation from . 
Shakespeare as Leicester brought Wolsey to her mind,, 
and Miss Morgan responded ; then the approach of 
Bedford suggested John Bunyan, and she was wonder- 
ing in which direction Elstow lay when the train flew 

13—2 



196 SUCCESS. 

past the station, and her expectations fell to the 
ground. Presently St. Albans came in sight, and they 
had scarcely done discussing the old abbey and 
Verulam, and Britain's earliest martyr, when tall 
chimneys and a smoky sky warned them that they 
were near London, and presently the first stage of 
their journey was ended. 

London was equally new to the two girls, and Miss 
Morgan took care that the three days spent there 
should combine as much sight-seeing as was compa- 
tible with time and strength, and then they all set out 
for AUanmede. 

The diminutive omnibus was in waiting, and a very 
comfortable gig into which John Fry, who was in 
attendance, carefully packed Alice after handing Miss 
Morgan and Jessie into the omnibus. The gig drove 
off first, and soon left the omnibus far behind ; but 
Jessie did not object to the slow pace, for Miss Morgan 
pointed out so many objects of interest that the dis- 
tance of four miles between the station and AUan- 
mede was all too short for what she wanted to see. 
As they crossed the bridge and Miss Morgan pointed 
out the water-mill, a fluttering handkerchief told them 
that Alice had safely arrived, and then the two ladies 
went up the hill to the post-office, where their rooms 
were ready, and a glad reception awaited them, for 
the good post-mistress had not forgotton Miss Mor- 
gan's visit four years ago. 



SUCCESS. 197 

It was a very happy holiday indeed. Alice with 
her sister and brother at the water-mill,* and Jessie 
-half way up the High Street, enjoyed it in an equal 
measure, while to Miss Morgan it was a time of rest- 
ful happiness, such as her life had seldom known. 
Jessie was wild with delight at the lovely views which 
she came upon in all her walks so unexpectedly. 
Little peeps of wonderful beauty, sea and sky, and 
quiet meadow which every break in the trees of the 
fine, old park revealed. The stately castle, with its 
ancient keep, and the beautiful church rising from a 
mass of foliage of the darkest green, which alone was 
pleasure enough to look upon when sitting by the 
river bank. Yet what beauty there was too, in the 
winding river itself with its yellow flags and rustling 
sedges, and how calm and quiet the old ruins looked, 
upon which they were always coming when Jessie 
least expected, and whose hoary grandeur, softened 
with velvety moss and lichens and adorned with snap- 
dragons and other wall-loving plants, impressed her 
very much. Then two days were spent at Deepwater, 
and the furze-covered clifTs and beautiful green sward 
dipping down in a state of exquisite wildness to the 
very water's edge, wore an aspect of sea-side beauty 
to which Jessie, with ideas limited to the Saltby coast, 
was entirely new. There were happy days spent at 
Miss Daventry's, or with the grandchildren of Miss 
Morgan's other old schoolfellows ; and Jessie, whose 



198 SUCCESS. 

visits to the water-mill were frequent, saw, in company* 
with Alice, many a well-loved spot of which she had 
told her in the Winters' first days at Beckford. That 
was a month of perfect enjoyment to all concerned, 
but it came to an end at last, and one chilly, wet even- 
ing, late in July, Jessie sat by the fire at home and 
recounted her adventures with ah eloquent tongue^ 
When left alone with her mother, she suddenly said, 

" Mamma, I cannot understand about Miss Morgan ;, 
she used to be as hard upon us when we were tire- 
some as it was possible to be, and so bitter and 
sharp in her remarks about people and things, and 
now I think she is so sweet, and tender, and kind, I 
love her dearly/' 

" You know how beautiful an apple-tree is in early- 
spring, when it is in bloom ?" 

" Yes ; I don't think there is anything prettier ; but 
what has that to do with Miss Morgan ?" 

" Patience, Jessie ! No doubt you have tasted the 
little apples which drop off, when they are no bigger 
than cherries ?" 

" Yes ; nasty, tasteless little things." 

" Later still, in your great hurry to eat them before 
they were ripe, have you not set your teeth into one 
that was very hard, and tasted of nothing but bitter- 
ness and sourness combined .?" 

" Certainly : oh, do go on, mamma, though I think 
I see what you mean." 



SUCCESS. 199 

" A little longer and all the sun and rain that have 
been combining to bring the apple to perfection see 
their work completed, and a sweet, ripe, delicious 
fruit hangs ready to be gathered." 

" Yes ; yes ; and you think it is like Miss Morgan ?" 

"I think, Jessie, that when people are hard and 
bitter, we should be charitable enough to think they 
are passing through a stage of development which will 
bring them at last to sweetness and perfection. I do 
not say it is always so ; if the sunshine is lacking, the 
fruit may never ripen, but remain bitter and distasteful 
till it falls to the ground. And so it is only when 
God's smile turns bitterness to sweetness that the true 
worth of the Christian character is seen ; but then, my 
child, when the warmth of that blessed influence is 
felt, all bitterness passes away. I think some hearts 
ripen into sweetness sooner than others, and one 
person can never be a rule for another. Spring's 
blossoms and autumn's fruits are each equally beauti- 
ful, but there must be an intermediate time ; and if,, 
when it comes, with cares and dulness, and feelings of 
regret, it brings with it steady confidence in the 
warmth of God's love and His power to perfect that 
which concerneth us, it will be all right, and autumn*s 
store will be full and perfect." 

Jessie sat quite still for a little while, and then she 
said, " It reminds me of a calm sunset after a stormy- 
day — and * at evening-tide there shall be light.' " 



200 SUCCESS. 

** Yes, dear child, whatever life brings with it, all 
will be well, if only we keep near to God ; so long as 
the branch is part of the vine, nothing can harm it. 
There may be trying stages in our growth, but if we 
look to the fend, we can take courage, and for all our 
sorrows God will give us a bountiful harvest of joys." 

" Was it your own idea about the apples, mamma ?'* 

" I think I have read something like it, but where 
I cannot say." 

" I never thought I should be sorry to leave school, 
but I really am ; only there is one thing, my music 
lessons will take me there once a week, so that it 
won't seem like giving up everything. Oh, there is 
papa ! and how late it is — half-past ten." 

Alice has grown quite strong since she came to 
Beckford, and now very seldom uses her crutches. 
Robin still wheels her to the woods, and confides to 
her his troubles with Mrs. Mcintosh, which seem 
ceaseless, for she has set up a conservatory which 
tries his powers of endurance to the utmost limit, 
because, as he says, " she will not see the fitness of 
things." 

Mrs. Winter finds her shop profitable, and there is 
no longer need for the green curtain in the school- 
room, as the packing-cases and Bath-chair have had 
to be stowed away elsewhere to make room for fresh 
pupils. Alice has thirty now, and Mrs. Franklin, as 
she shakes her black -curls, still righteously indignant 



SUCCESS* 201 

at the chignon and false plait which Mrs. White con- 
tinues to wear, says, " Sixty pounds a year clear ! 
only think ! well, some has to work in one way and 
some another, but to me it seems easily come by," an 
opinion she might quickly alter if she changed places 
with Alice. 

At the Grove, there is as happy a band of school- 
girls as even Miss Morgan herself could desire to see. 
Fraulein was married a year or two since, and lives 
now in Germany once more ; but Miss Stansfield still 
has to look occasionally and see that Sophy does not 
go back into untidy habits ; and in the doctor's house 
our friends go on in their quiet way. Jessie, the 
refuge of her brothers and little Lucy in all their 
troubles, her mother's dear companion and her father's 
delight. 

But one and all in Beckford — from Mr. Eaton to 
good old Robin — own to a genuine feeling of friendly 
interest which has its centre in the cheerful little 
schoolmistress and her thirty pupils, in the long old- 
fashioned room behind the toy-shop. 



THE END. 



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