XLVII.

STRIKING TENT.

ERE beginneth the end, Francesca. The end of the old life, the beginning of the new. For all life's ends are beginnings, till its final end begins the Endless.

I have sent them all out,-Ruth, Alice, Essie, Flora, fluttering down the staircase in their snowy draperies like a flock of white doves; the last moments of Winnie Frost shall be given to you. If that white-robed vision which I beheld, just now, in the ancient mirror over the modern toilet-table be really she, for I have my doubts! It was so different from anything I have seen there before, so softly radiant with happiness, as if diaphanous and lit from within,that I failed to recognize it for an acquaintance.

Yes, let me write it down and ponder it well,—I am happy! Not through any seeking, planning, or expectation of my own, but by the gracious gift of God. That is what makes it so sweet; because it is so manifestly of His providence, so straight from His hand. The cup of earthly pleasure which we mix for ourselves hath ever its great drop of bitterness at bottom; but "His blessing maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it." The happiness that He gives; springing out of sorrow and ripened out of pain; holding the promise of the life that is to come, as well as of that which "now is;" is happiness indeed!

Best and beautifullest of it all is it to feel how tenderly

God has been leading me hither, all these days; that the error, the separation, the pain, the complete relinquishment of hope, were only so many necessary steps to this end. Beyond all question, Paul and I needed just the lessons that we have learned. Without them, our present joy would lack its subtlest, most enduring flavor; our future relation be robbed of its most quickening and preservative element. The fact is profoundly suggestive. Perhaps the most wondrous of all the wonderful revelations of the Last Day, will be that those very burdens and trials under which we were most restive,—which seemed absolute hindrances to our power of being or of doing good,—the cups which we prayed most earnestly might pass from us, and which, if Christ had been a Deliverer from present trouble instead of future woe, He would surely have removed;-that these were the very steps by which we climbed, with His help, to our place in the heavenly habitations.

It is good to be able to take this lesson, this realization, into coming times of trial. For happiness, I know well, is no lasting condition of human life; save, perhaps, as an inward spring; never as an outward circumstance. Hearts that rest upon God will have their inward sun shining behind and gilding all earth's clouds; but the clouds will visit them none the less with needful shadow and rain. Life will be a battle-ground and a conflict all the same, with inevitable foes of sin and mortal calamity standing in array; though Divine and earthly love combine to arm and to strengthen us for the fight.

Not for earthly bliss merely, or mainly, therefore, do we join hands; but for mutual help, comfort, elevation; mutual strengthening of heavenly hope and faith; mutual encouragement in a life of earnest striving toward the right. And so long as we keep faith with each other in this point, we may look hopefully for God's blessing on our union. Along the borders of the path that tends toward higher things, He will graciously cause the human

happiness that we do not live for, to blossom as a wayside flower, or gush forth as a wayside spring,-full of casual sweetness, full of unexpected refreshment,-and leading us continually more and more to acknowledge His wisdom, and praise His goodness. This, we dare to hope. For we have not hesitated to tell each other frankly that we could have done without each other, if He had so willed. Our onward lives had ceased to look dark; the love of Christ would have been sufficient for us, here, not less than hereafter. Do we, therefore, love each other less? No! more -infinitely more! Not till His human children have learned to hold all love as subordinate to His, does God pour into their hearts the richest treasures of earthly affection. When the gift will no longer harm, but wholly bless, He gives it to them without stint. "Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, shall be added unto you."

and all these things

Pray for us, Francesca, that we may so seek, and so be added unto!

But the moments are gliding fast, and I forget that you are still in the dark upon several important points; I think nothing, save the wedding day, was fixed when I wrote you before,—all else was undelightfully chaotic.

Dr. Heartwell came to our help at last-Paul's and mine—and forbade that grand, glittering, wearisome city wedding which we so deprecated, but upon which Aunt Belle had set her heart.

"If you want to kill your niece outright," said he, bluntly, "drag her through all that parade and fatigue, for which she has neither strength nor nerves; and you can't well miss of your aim. But if you want her to live, marry her the quickest and speediest way possible, and get her out of this climate before Old Winter is upon us in good carnest. There is a spark of pulmonic disease about her which he might fan into a flame: a warm climate will quench it. If you must make a fuss over her, Mrs. Frost,

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do it when she comes back next April, well and strong. Then you may give her the most costly, fashionable, and absurd reception' that you and Brown and Delmonico. can devise among you. But not before, with my consent." There was no disputing professional dictum like this; and Aunt Belle, finding that she must needs yield the point, was good enough to do it gracefully.

She is here; so are Uncle John and Flora and the younger ones, down to that unconscious agent of Providence, little Bella. The old house is brimming over with guests; yet not more so than the hearts of its owners with genuine, old-time hospitality, neither overlabored nor overcareless, giving of its best as freely as the sky of its sunshine, and with as little self-misgiving. Mr. and Mrs. Divine were never more easy, more unembarrassed, more wholly themselves, than now. Aunt Belle looks at them with growing wonder and respect; she will carry some new lights upon farmers and farm-life back to her aristocratic home.

The old house is full of cheer, too, but of a subdued and heart-deep kind; none that need turn aside, in its fullest flow, from Uncle True's chair; which Alice has had the lovely inspiration to wreathe with white flowers, fastened here and there by dainty bows of soft, white ribbon. The same pure taste and felicitous touch have been busy throughout the house, causing flowers to fall and cling together everywhere, in such wise as must needs have sprung from the unhindered operation of their own sweet laws of being; and using autumn leaves, where flowers grew scarce, with wonderful richness and harmony of effect. To me, the latter have the deeper meaning. The fullest beauty of life and love has been revealed to me through the frost-touch of sorrow.

What further miracles of decoration Alice and her corps of assistants have wrought, over at the church, remains to be seen. I only know that they have been busy

there half the morning, and that Aunt Belle took care that they should be amply supplied with flowers.

For we are to be married in St. Jude's, Mr. Taylor officiating. All Shiloh will be there to see, if it pleases. For all Shiloh is, in one sense, a friend.

We go to Cuba for the winter. Alice accompanies us; I cannot yet do without my deft little hand-maiden, who has been hands and feet, strength and motion, to me, so long. During my illness, I learned to value her as she deserves. Her quick insight, which used to annoy me so much, was a rare treasure in my sick-room; divining what I wanted before I knew it myself. Moreover, I desire to kindle her imagination and enrich her memory with tropi cal pictures-palms waving and shimmering in moonlight glory, the golden gloom of orange groves, the rythmic tread of the breeze in the canefield, the purple distances of starry nights;-sometime, perhaps, to be distilled, by her thought-alembic, into verse that shall set them, in all their finest essence and deepest sentiment, before eyes that everywhere long for, yet are denied the actual sight. The trip will not unhinge the self-poised, self-moved little maiden. She will come back to the old, quiet life, with vision cleared to discern its hidden beauty and value; to brighten the venerable house with her quickened thought and fuller knowledge; to be Mr. Taylor's faithful helper; to succeed me in my secretaryship and Sunday teaching; to take up whatever work I lay down, and carry it forward to better end, I hope, than I have done. Sometime, too, I trust, to become the centre and light of a home of her own; which, I now have good reason to believe, will also be the home of Harry Burcham.

A few days ago, I laughingly hinted this conviction to Ruth. She heard it in silence, turning her face away. When her time for practice came, instead of the vocalizes which I expected, there rose from the outroom a song (if song it could be called, that had no distinguishable words,