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comes into his kingdom. The kind old maiden “ The dear old country seems to have grown lady at Charleswood went quietly to her rest, small, Frank. I feel in the way here." and John Mortimer of The Wild, was now also We were just at the end of the shadowy lord of the fair domain of Charleswood, and a avenue of limes as he spoke, and the next personage of considerable importance in the instant there was a faint rustle among the county where it was situate.
withered leaves on the grass, and my cousin But when he came last to The Wild after Beaty glided into it, and faced us. We both some weeks of absence, and we walked under started a little, but the little lady held out her the limes, whose leaves shivered silently to the hand to Mr. Mortimer with ever so quiet a ground beneath our feet, I was vexed to observe smile, and then swept away, before we could that my old friend was disposed to treat this trun and accompany her. fact but lightly, and that in his mood and con- Jack looked after her for an instant, and versation generally there was a discontent, and there was trouble in his eye. gloom almost, quite unwonted in him. His “ Miss Francis is not looking well,” he said; sudden appearance, during my stroll, was some
"she has grown thin and pale.” what unexpected, and I said so as I welcomed him.
CHAPTER IV. “ I seem to have been away an age, too,” he
BETWEEN THE LIGHTS. answered, hastily; " and I came-upon my soul, I hardly know why I came, except that I was
There was no prettier nor cosier room in all horridly lonely up at Charleswood, and no comfortable and picturesque old Meadowsleigh wonder! Not that The Wild is much better, than that one appropriated to its master, and though, only, at any rate, I don't miss there a called “ Mr. Marchmont's study.” It was sacred kind old face I used to know. Frank, if it had to myself, and I was chary of allowing the not been for the dear old lady I should never
intrusion of my household across its threshold, have come home, I think; and since she's gone, feeling that the “ business” in which I talked I can't do better than go back again. I declare, solemnly of being engaged during a quiet hour if it was possible, I'd go back to the bush to
or so, when it pleased me to retire from the morrow."
bosom of my family into its comfortable seclu“In search of society?" I inquired.
sion, might perhaps suffer in the respect of its
members, if they found how often it was transJack laughed, but the next instant he sighed. acted with a cigar between my lips and in a
“Ah! you may laugh at the idea of a man position of recumbency on a lounge constructed who has been five years in the bush, crying out with many cunning contrivances for insuring at the solitude of an old country house under the greatest amount of comfort, with the least bachelor rule; but I can tell you solitude is not expenditure of effort, on the part of the indiat all the same thing there—nothing like bore- vidual who sought its sleepy hollow. dom in the bush, Frank; and somehow a friend's
The fire had sunk down into a deep red glow face seems all the more worth seeing, when you
on the wide tesselated hearth, my favorite have ridden over fifty miles of green slope and hound was sleeping peacefully in its heat, all swell, with that sole object in view. In fact, I the room was full of brooding shadows, and that think a man must go to the bush before he wavering glow from the fire only very dimly really understands the meaning of the word defined the large person of Jack Mortimer as • neighbor." No offence to you, old boy.”
he lay extended very much at his ease on that “ None in the world, but, for a gentleman of same lounge. passably engaging manners, decidedly hand- A tap at the long window that opens upon some means, in a moderately populous, and the shrubbery. sociably disposed neighborhood, to complain of “ If you please, sir, Jones would thank ye to solitude, and talk of flying to the bush for walk down to the stable. Lady Betty went society, strikes me as a fact requiring explana- dead lame to-day, sir, while one of the boys had tion. If Charleswood and The Wild are dull, her out exercising, sir.” fill them with friendly faces, dear lad; they are Uttering an anathema upon boys in general, never turned away from such as thee."
and stable boys in particular, I caught up my But Jack shook his head.
cap and hastened away without a word of ex
cuse to Jack, who was, moreover, half asleep. | have seen her many times. My home was
I might, perhaps, have been absent half an always at Charleswood with my aunt, and after hour, for I had to wait the veterinary surgeon's Amy left school she went to live down in Essex arrival and report upon the disaster of my with her guardian. We two were pretty much favorite mare; and when I presently re-entered alone in the world, and perhaps that was the my sanctum, which I did by the window, as I reason we thought a eat deal of one anothdeparted, I stood still a moment surveying the er-at least I know I was very fond of my little sight that presented itself to my eyes.
sister. Not with surprise—no—I fatter myself I had “ And she thought there was no brother in entirely overcome any tendency to that emotion all the world to compare with hers, and never where Jack Mortimer and my cousin Beaty tired of talking of him,” murmured a voice on were concerned; for of course, those young my left-Jack was on my right. people composed the tableau on which I looked. “And perhaps I never heard of Miss Beaty
It was not otherwise than a pretty one, I am Francis, either, before I saw her,” answered bound to confess that. There was Jack seated Jack. “I remember I laughed one day when easily back on my favorite resting-place, and Amy was setting forth her perfections, and said by his side—and so very close, that Jack's arm
she must introduce me, and perhaps I might be could scarce have found a position anywhere the happy man who would win this paragon for but round her waist-nestled little Beaty. As his wife. Perhaps this unlucky speech of mine far as I knew, he had hardly hitherto touched first turned my little sister's thoughts towards the little finger-tips of my pretty cousin, and such a thing, though it passed entirely out of now—10—but I was calm, and advanced into my mind; for very soon afterwards Amy fell the charmed circle within the firelight, as if for into delicate health, and before many months a lady and gentleman apparently on the most
were over I knew that we should not have her formal terms of acquaintanceship, to assume
long." the present relative position of these two, was
Jack paused here. When he resumed his among my most ordinary and familiar experi- voice was lower, and Beaty's face was hidden ences.
against my shoulder. “ Wish me joy, Frank, old fellow,” said Jack,
" It was a sad time, and I don't care to think jumping up then.
of it. She sank very rapidly, and one day “I wish you all possible joy,” I answered burst a blood-vessel; after that we knew the meekly ; “none the less sincerely, that I don't end must come very soon. She knew it herself, in the least know of what."
too, and pined so much to see her dear little “I should think it was plain enough, too,” school-friend Beaty Francis, that her kind old Mr. Mortimer answered, turning to draw Beaty guardian went up to London himself, to beg up beside him; "but I am afraid
you are vexed,
Miss Francis might be allowed to return with old boy, that we had a secret from you all this him to bid the poor dying child. Good-bye !"" time. I suppose we have each fancied it the “I have never forgotten that day you came, other's; but now it can be yours, too, Frank, if nor how I first saw you,” Jack went on, addressBeaty will tell it.”
ing himself now to Miss Beaty, with that in“ Not I, Jack. I came here this evening voluntary softening of his deep voice as he did
made some impression. I remembered it all so would; and when all was over (she died with often afterwards ; then I thought of little, but her arms round my neck that night, Frank) it my poor Amy. Your coming seemed to have was only left me to try and make the best of put new life into her. She had scarcely spoken the matter with Miss Francis. I told her-at for days, now she laughed and talked so gaily, least I tried to—that she need never think herthat something almost like a hope began to self bound by a promise so given—that she wake up in my heart. I looked over at you, need never fear my insulting her, by making and said, I remember, that you were the best
it.” doctor that had come near Amy yet, and that I
" Oh, Jack, Jack, you incorrigible old blunthought a few days of your company would do derer !” I could not forbear crying out here; all they had not been able to accomplish. And
so you as good as told a lady you would not then-but you remember.”
have her.” “Yes," whispered Beaty.
“ I suppose I did blunder horribly; I've no “ I do not,” I could not refrain from remind- doubt I did," answered Jack, seriously; " for ing these absorbed creatures.
certainly Miss Francis" I beg your pardon, Frank,” returned Jack,
“ Behaved very foolishly, I am afraid,” here with quite a start; “I had forgotten I was broke in the voice on my left. * But I was telling you."
very young-only a school-girl-and the idea " So it seems. But go on, my dear old fellow.” | would torment me that you might think Amy
“ Think of Amy, then, Frank, as a very had talked of—of what she wished to me before, young, very warm-hearted and loving-roman- and that perhaps I knew what the promise she tic, perhaps, and lifted, by the knowledge that asked referred to, before it was given. Thinkshe was dying, above ordinary, every-day life; ing this, I felt so horribly ashamed, I could not very sorry for me, too, whom her death would bear to see you. I thought I never should be leave but with very few to care much about able.” me—think of her so, and then perhaps you will
Only it appears to me that you have changed understand how it all came about; that, holding your mind on that point Miss,” pinching the her friend's hand in hers, she asked her to little fingers that lay in mine. promise her something, and that Beaty an- “Yes, Frank,” responded the demure monswered, Yes--willingly-gladly-anything !' key. Then looking across at me, Amy asked me to "Since when, pray ? for deuce take me if I do the same. How could I dream what the
can understand how you and Jack, who seemed poor child's thoughts were fixed on? I an- only this morning as far as the. poles asunder, swered, as Beaty had done. And then-then-can have arrived, in the space of half an hour, with a light in her dying eyes, and a smile on at the—well—I think I may say without offence, her mouth, she told us that what she asked of close relations,' in which I found you." us, what she had longed for, thought over, and “Don't, Frank, dear!" whispered Miss Beaty. prayed for, was, that we two would marry. “I ll tell you another time.” That we had promised to grant her what she
“ No time like the present. Come, Jack. I asked, and she asked that.
comprehend now, how the hostile attitude came “ Just imagine, if you can, our awful confu- about. Do clear up the mystery of the allied sion while we listened, Frank; I'm sure I can't one." depict it. I only dared once look towards Miss “It was arrived at very simply, too. Miss Francis, and then saw nothing of her face, Francis and I have been under the mutual imonly one little ear and a part of her throat, and pression all this time, and we were respectively they were flushed with deep, and, I felt sure, disagreeable to each other. By a—a little indignant crimson. I was unutterably pained accident this evening we found out that we and shocked; but could I reproach my little were mutually mistaken, and so I think dying sister ? I did try to laugh the matter off, that will do, Frank.” awkwardly enough, I dare say; at any rate, I " By Jove! no; for I declare I'm all in the failed, and made matters worse. How could dark." I joke on such a subject, or dream that she * We were in the dark, cousin Frank,” Miss could do so with dying lips ?'” Amy said. Beaty whispered here, laughing and blushing,
“Be angry with her I neither could nor I dare say; certainly turning her face so that it
LITTLE BESSIE, And the Way in which she Fell Asleep.
should be invisible to Jack, who had risen by this time, and was standing before the fire. * At least, no—it was between the lights ;' and I came in here to talk to you about something that was making me very unhappy-something I heard you and—and Mr. Mortimer talking of this afternoon in the avenue—about his going away to Australia for good, I mean.
I thought it was you lying on the sofa, Frank. And before I had found out it was not, I had said I don't know what. But Mr. Mortimer knew then I did not dislike him ; and so—and so
“ And so poor little Amy's wish has come about, after all, thank God! And I don't think I shall go farther for a home now than Charleswood, unless Beaty particularly prefers the bush,” concluded Jack, coming to the rescue.
* And my shrewd little wife's prediction is verified, also," I observed, " that if ever Jack Mortimer married, the lady would have to make the first confession of love. There, Beaty, never hide your face, my dear. Methinks á woman need scarce do that, when she owns to loving Jack Mortimer, no more at shining noonday than · between the lights.””
TAKE MY HAND, PAPA.
“ Hug me closer, closer, mother,
Put your arms around me tight; I am cold and tired, mother,
And I feel so strange to-night, Something hurts me here, dear mother,
Like & stone upon my breast;
Why it is I cannot rest?
As I lay upon my bed,
And to think of what you said ;
Loves His lambs to watch and keep; And I wished He'd come and take me
In His arms, that I might sleep. “Just before the lamp was lighted,
Just before the children came, While the room was very quiet,
I heard some one call my name, And at once the window opened,
On u field where lambs and sheepSome from out a brook were drinking,
Some were lying fast asleep. “ But I could not see the Savior,
Though I strained my eyes to see ; And I wondered if He saw me,
Would He speak to such as me? In a moment I was looking
On a world so bright and fair, Which was full of little children,
And they seemed so happy there. “They were singing, oh! how sweetly!
Sweeter songs I never heard ! They were singing sweeter, mother,
Than can sing our yellow bird. And while I my breath was holding,
One so bright upon me smiled; And I knew it must be Jesus,
When he said, 'Come here, my child! "Come up here my little Bessie !
Come up here and live with me, Where the children never suffer,
But are happier than you see! Then I thought of what you told me
Of that bright and happy land; I was going when you called me,
When you came and kissed my hand. " And at first I felt so sorry
You had called me!- I would go Oh! to sleep, and never suffer !
Mother, don't be crying so! Hug me closer, closer, mother,
Put your arm around me tight, Oh! bow much I love you mother,
But I feel so strange, to-night!" And the mother pressed her closer
To her overburdened breast; On the heart so near to breaking,
Lay the heart so near its rest. At the solemn hour of midnight,
In the darkness, calm and deep, Lying on her mother's bosom,
In the dead of the night I am frequently awakened by a little hand stealing out from the crib by my side, with the pleading cry,“ Please take my hand, papa!”
Instantly the little boy's hand is grasped, his fears vanish, and, soothed by the consciousness of his father's presence, he falls into a sleep
We commend this lesson of simple, filial faith and trust to the anxious, sorrowing ones that are found in almost every household. Stretch forth your hand, stricken mourner, although you may be in the deepest darkness and gloom, and fear and anxious suspense may cloud your pathway, and that very act will reveal the presence of a loving, compassionate Father, and give you the peace that passeth all understanding.
The darkness may not pass away at once, night may enfold you in its cold embrace, but its terrors will be dissipated, its gloom and sadness flee away, and, in the simple grasp of the Father's hand, sweet peace will be given, and you will rest securely knowing that the morning cometh.
SUSPICION is usually born of one's own
Little Beagie fell asleep!
THE GRAVE OF THE HEART.
. and direct as that of the old time, “when one
went out not knowing whither he went.” Our There is in every heart a grave, A secret holy spot,
gray-headed class leader had cried out through Fill'd with the memory of one
his tears when we met him for the last time, This busy life knows not.
“Lord, if thy presence go not with them, carry Low down, and deeply dug it lies,
them not up hence;” and we felt sure that his This cherished grave unseen;
prayer would be regarded. Yet I remember And years of blighting care that pass
how I longed, on that Saturday night, on the Make not this grave less green.
crowded wharf, and in the poor lodgings which With jealous love we keep it fresh Through many wintry years;
our small means and careful fear compelled us And when the world believes us gay,
to creep into-oh! so different to the bright We water it with tears.
old Yorkshire homes—to see some one face that Not for one cause alike do each
I had ever seen before, and hear one man say,
You are welcome. And I have wondered
many a time since then, whether there is not a
hint in those words of the Master, “I will come There is within my heart a shrine, All wholly given to him;
again and take you to myself,” that touches No dearer treasure e'er could make
some such feeling respecting that other and still Its lights burn low or dim.
more wonderful removal by-and-bye. Will our Oh! there are things within this life
dearest friend—the one that is as near to us as Which strangely, deeply thrill ;
the Master was to John-be drawn, by some In music's softest, sweetest notes, We hear a voice long still.
great attraction, as we cross the shining river, We deem the act a wanton one
to meet us, and welcome us, and save us from Upon a grave to tread ;
all feeling that we are strangers ? I hope so. We pass in silent reverence
It seems a formidable thing now to go out alone, The resting of the dead
without even the little woman. But I suppose Then on the sacred hidden spot
I shall feel different when the real time comes;
it will be all right then, as it is all right for ripe Its secret grave is dear.
fruit to fall. Ripe fruit does not die; it is
gathered. And a ripe man is like ripe fruitPROVIDENCE.
The result of his life is for the nurture of the
world. The shining seed is planted again in a TWELVE years ago last April, I went with better world. " He that liveth and believeth
a blooming Yorkshire lassie to a Methodist in me (that is, liveth right) shall never die.” chapel among the hills, and we said some home- A woman in her strong prime came to me lately ly old words to the minister and to God about with a troubled face, and said, “I am afraid of what we meant to do, and so, in a few moments, death.” I said, “ I am glad you are; so would had woven the chain that was to be of ever- a green apple be, if it could think as you do. fresh flowers or of iron, as time and our own
You will not be afraid of death, if you live soul's texture should make it; and kissing each forty years more as you are living now; death one both our mothers, who sat still and white then will be lost in victory, as it is in ripened and weeping, we turned away from the little fruit.” valley where we had nestled all our lives, and There was one charge the Yorkshire folk laid
started to el
na bome in