VI.CHRISTMAS CANDLES.

VI.CHRISTMAS CANDLES.

Morning dawned, but no slightest trace of the little wanderer had been found. Many of those who had toiled all night stood in groups talking.

“It was a wild night,” said one.

“The wires are down and trains stalled,” said another.

“It seems as though we had done everything we could, and yet one hardly knows how to stop, to just sit and wait,” mourned Mr. Wright, the minister. He was white and worn with the anxiety of the night and he made no effort to hide his tears. He, like many others, loved Dorothy Douglas. “She is as dear to me as my own child,” he said earnestly.

“It was in that blinding storm that she probably was bewildered and walked no one knows how far.”

“I cannot understand why we found no trace of the dog; he would have made an effort to get help. No one seems to have heard him even bark or howl.”

“At any rate, the dog would stay with her; I am glad she was not all alone.”

“Has anyone thought of the sea?” suggested a man; “we have searched so thoroughly and so long, and it was less than an hour before at least a dozen people were looking for her.”

No one spoke for a time. Everyonehadthought of the sea and everyone had resolutely put the thought aside.

“It is too awfully cruel to think of,” and a young man, a mere boy, suddenly put his head against the porch pillar and sobbed. He was employed about the Douglas estate.

Judge Lorimer laid his arm about the lad’s shoulder and bent his splendid white head close to the rough brown one.

“I know just how you feel,” he assured him, “why we cannot have it. The little white blossom, always defending, sheltering, comforting someone.”

“She just made life over for me,” continued the lad; “you know I was about down and out when I went begging Mr. Timothy to give me a chance. I can see her now, nothing but a baby—made me think of a bit of thistle-down with the sun shining on it. ‘Boy,’ she said, ‘come and have some dinner, then you won’t feel so sorry’—I was fair starved I tell you.Shetook hold ofmyhand and led me to the house. ‘Bridgie, don’t forget to give him a big plate of pudding,’—and it’s been that way ever since.”

So they talked of little Dorothy. Each had some tender memory. “She belongs to the community; in her estimation everyone is good and kind; she never saw anything but the angel side; she has been a little Christmas messenger,” sorrowed an old man.

“What they are going to do at her own home, I can’t think.”

“Has anyone seen Mr. Douglas? He has grownold since yesterday; and Timothy—I could hardly bear the look in the man’s eyes.”

A tall, handsome man, who had been a silent listener, spoke, and at the sound of his voice every one turned. “Let us not give uphope,” he said. “I know we cannot think of anything more to do just now; still, let us think of her alive. We will accomplish more.”

“That is Mr. Stanley,” said the judge to a friend at his side; “built the big house on the Point, you know; only reached here last night.”

It was Christmas eve. Stockings were filled and Christmas trees were trimmed, for little children slept in expectation of a joyous to-morrow.

No cheering news had come to the waiting hearts in Dorothy’s home. Mr. Douglas paced back and forth in his library, while outside of the closed door the doctor kept time with the weary walker.

Timothy spoke softly to the doctor: “There is a Mr. Stanley here.”

Mr. Douglas was with them instantly. “Bring him to the library, Timothy—come in doctor—perhaps——”

Mr. Stanley came forward with outstretched hand. “Mr. Douglas, understanding your sorrow as I do, though a stranger to you, let me try to comfort you. Let me beg of you to keep up your courage. So many things could have happened that none of us even suspect. I know it is better for allconcerned that you believe that the child is safe. Why take it for granted that evil has befallen her? Is not God our very present help in trouble?

“The storm is over,” he assured them; “I think before morning much of the damage will be repaired and we will be in touch with the outside world again.”

Mr. Douglas resumed his restless walk. “Dorothy is by nature a timid child; I cannot think of her, alone.”

Suddenly a little figure reached his side, soft hands clasped his, and Maddie demanded: “Didyouforget God? Granny did—shewas sorry—she told me ‘God will take care o’ you!’ and He did. Did you tell Dorothy, ‘God will take care o’ you?’ ’Cause if you did, she will know about it and won’t be afraid.”

Timothy drew the little girl to his side. “Maddie,” he said, “Dorothy knows God—she has always known Him.”

“Then,” said Maddie, “let’s not be frightened any more. Hewilltake care o’ her.”

Mr. Douglas sat down with a new light in his eyes, “Yes, Maddie, God will take care of her, I am certain He will. She understood so well—and in her own way explained to me,—‘Love never faileth.’ Ihadforgotten.”

The doctor leaned forward and patted his old friend’s hand.

Timothy stole softly up to the tower and lighted the Christmas candles.

Mr. Stanley’s eyes rested longingly on Maddie. “Somewhere,” he said, “I have a little daughter. I have not seen her for about six years. I have gone around the world following clues, but because I think as Maddie does, I am still expecting to find her.

“My wife and I were on the ill-fated Steamship M——. We were picked up by different vessels and for a time each believed the other lost. The baby we have never found. My wife thinks a sailor took the baby when helping her into the life-boat.”

Mr. Douglas leaned forward and looked earnestly into the wonderful eyes of the speaker.

“How old was the child?”

“Nine months.”

“Was there any distinguishing mark about her?”

“We hope so. The baby had put her arm in some tea and my wife tied her handkerchief around the little arm to keep the wet sleeve from touching it. The handkerchief had the initials L.O.I.S. in the corner.” The doctor and Mr. Douglas rose simultaneously.

“I believe your quest is at an end. The child is here, in my house, has been for a long time.”

“My child, here! How good God is!” Mr. Stanley’s face was radiant.

Questions and explanations followed, then Mr. Douglas took him to the nursery, but counseled as little excitement as possible, as Lois had had a most trying day.

Surrounded by everything that love could provide,Lois slept in Jeanie’s arms, her dark head pillowed against Jeanie’s cheek.

“So this is our baby,” he murmured as he stood looking through a mist of tears upon the beautiful little face. Then stooping down, he gathered the sleeping child in his arms, holding her close in one long, clinging embrace.

Brokenly he expressed his gratitude and hurried away on his mission of love.

At midnight, Timothy in the tower looked out over a world glistening in the moonlight.

“The earth in solemn stillness lay,To hear the angels sing,”

“The earth in solemn stillness lay,To hear the angels sing,”

“The earth in solemn stillness lay,To hear the angels sing,”

“The earth in solemn stillness lay,

To hear the angels sing,”

he quoted softly to himself. Then, hushed by the very presence of that love which had winged the angel song of old, his fears grew still, and the peaceful assurance that

“No harm could come to herOn ocean or on shore”

“No harm could come to herOn ocean or on shore”

“No harm could come to herOn ocean or on shore”

“No harm could come to her

On ocean or on shore”

was born in his heart. Renewing the little candles, he recalled her face all alight, as she said: “My candle shines out over the sea, and Lois’ over the land,” and then he remembered that love’s light shines out so far and wide that none may drift “beyond His love and care.”

In the nursery, the room that Dorothy loved, Jeanie, her face white with suffering, stood before the illuminated text which she had so often read tothe child, as she held her little quivering form in her arms, quieting the baby fears, and assuring her of the all-loving care of the heavenly Father.

“Thou shalt not be afraid!”

“Thou shalt not be afraid!”

“Thou shalt not be afraid!”

“Thou shalt not be afraid!”

It is a command, she had impressed upon Dorothy—“Mother dear wanted you to understand and obey.” To-night, Jeanie is battling with her own fears, but the loving command, with its promise, does its work, as it so often has before.

“Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night,For He shall give His angels charge over thee,To keep thee in all thy ways.”

“Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night,For He shall give His angels charge over thee,To keep thee in all thy ways.”

“Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night,For He shall give His angels charge over thee,To keep thee in all thy ways.”

“Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night,

For He shall give His angels charge over thee,

To keep thee in all thy ways.”

There is no fear in love, and Jeanie, obedient, listening, heard—the terror is withdrawn.

In the library, father dear kept his lonely vigil. Only the fire-light dispelling the gloom. But two sentences ring in his ears:—

“God is love!”“Love never faileth!”

“God is love!”“Love never faileth!”

“God is love!”“Love never faileth!”

“God is love!”

“Love never faileth!”

The doctor friend, walking back and forth in the wide hall, found his feet keeping time with the song in his heart—

“God will take care o’ her!God will take care o’ her!”

“God will take care o’ her!God will take care o’ her!”

“God will take care o’ her!God will take care o’ her!”

“God will take care o’ her!

God will take care o’ her!”

Hurried footsteps on the walk—someone bounded up the steps; the old butler, Robert, was at thedoor before the bell sounded. The messenger’s face was all aglow: “Telegram—Mr. Douglas;” thrusting the yellow envelope into the man’s hand, he was off like a shot. Robert never knew just how he reached the library. He was faint with fear, torn with apprehension.

“Dorothy safe! Hope to get through to-night.—Stanley.”

Mr. Douglas read and re-read, and his voice rang out as it had not for years. Robert knew, for he had served in his father’s house.

Out in the hall the household waited—tearful, hushed. The doctor stood on a chair and read the telegram to them, while the clanging of the bells told far and wide the glad tidings. What did not willing hands and happy hearts do with those bells? How they talked, laughed, danced, exulted!

Timothy, hastening to the station, wondered if no one had gone to bed that night. The telegraph operator told him that Mr. Stanley had sent out the last telegram that had gone through the night of the storm.

The coast for miles had been watched. He had had wireless, searchlights, vessels, lighthouses and the life-saving stations all at work. “He’s a great man! Nothing he has not thought of. Told me to keep still—no use adding to the heartache. I don’t know just what he did say or do, but he made me know it was all right. He’s made every onewantto work their heads off. He was off last night on the first engine that got through to the city. “Couldn’t wait for wires,” he said to me; “you’llknow what to do when you get a message”—andI did.

“Listen—there she is!”

The shrieking of an engine—long—loud. It seemed as though no one breathed until the engine rounded the curve, and then cheer after cheer rent the air. No one knew what they did after that, until the doctor’s voice rose above the din:

“A clear path, my friends,” and like magic it was made.

The next moment Dorothy was in her father’s arms and all the sorry lines were kissed away. Perched upon his shoulder, she greeted her friends in her own sunny way.

“I suppose,” she said to Mr. Wright, “I did not get here in time for the Christmas Carols?”

“Yes, we waited for you; let’s have them now, and “father dear,” who had not lifted his glorious voice in song since that Christmas eight years ago, led the singers:

“It came upon the midnight clear,That glorious song of old,From angels bending near to earthTo touch their harps of gold.”

“It came upon the midnight clear,That glorious song of old,From angels bending near to earthTo touch their harps of gold.”

“It came upon the midnight clear,That glorious song of old,From angels bending near to earthTo touch their harps of gold.”

“It came upon the midnight clear,

That glorious song of old,

From angels bending near to earth

To touch their harps of gold.”

Such singing! It came from hearts overflowing with joy and gratitude.

One after another of the old carols pealed forth, while the hearts of men and women grew kind towardall the world, opened wide the gates that the message of Christmas might enter in.

“God rest you, merry gentlemen,Let nothing you dismay,”

“God rest you, merry gentlemen,Let nothing you dismay,”

“God rest you, merry gentlemen,Let nothing you dismay,”

“God rest you, merry gentlemen,

Let nothing you dismay,”

sang the happy voices.

“The last verse once more,” said someone:

“Now all your sorrows He doth heal,Your sins He takes away;For Jesus Christ, your Savior,Was born on Christmas day.”

“Now all your sorrows He doth heal,Your sins He takes away;For Jesus Christ, your Savior,Was born on Christmas day.”

“Now all your sorrows He doth heal,Your sins He takes away;For Jesus Christ, your Savior,Was born on Christmas day.”

“Now all your sorrows He doth heal,

Your sins He takes away;

For Jesus Christ, your Savior,

Was born on Christmas day.”

It was nearly morning when, home at last, in her little white eider down gown, Dorothy sat in Jeanie’s lap—Jeanie, whose arms had ached for her.

Warm and happy, she told them how she had stopped to play with Rings, till, bewildered by the snow, she had run in the wrong direction, felt water dashing over her feet, and then she had climbed into a boat and Rings jumped in after her; the next moment a big wave had carried them away into the blinding storm.

“It was cold and dark, and I began to be frightened,” she said. “I remembered, ‘Thou shalt not be afraid,’ and the things father dear and Jeanie had told me. So I talked to God; I told Him this was a pretty big trouble to face, and asked Him to take care of me, and,of course, He did. I beganto think of that song—‘Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep’:

‘Secure I rest from all alarm,For Thou alone hast power to save.’

‘Secure I rest from all alarm,For Thou alone hast power to save.’

‘Secure I rest from all alarm,For Thou alone hast power to save.’

‘Secure I rest from all alarm,

For Thou alone hast power to save.’

(Timothy used to sing it to Lois, because she was afraid of the sea), and then I went to sleep. When I waked up I was at the lighthouse, all rolled up in a blanket. Mrs. Captain Joe was holding me in her lap and Captain Joe was giving me some hot milk to drink. Rings was rolled up in another blanket close by the fire. He looked so funny!

“I had a lovely time. I saw the big light. Captain Joe says it ishisChristmas candle shining through all the year.”

Christmas day found everyone brimming over with joy. Lois was very happy to have “a real father and mother of her own,” though she confided to “Father Douglas” that she “hadn’t expected them to be just a strange lady and gentleman.”

Rings was the hero of the hour. Everyone knew now how he had barked and barked and so guided the searchers to Dorothy.

The Christmas party was a merry one. The grown people who had gathered to witness the “Santa Claus hunt” and help with the games, forgot their years, and went hurrying about in search of the hidden “gift.”

It turned out that everyone found just what they wanted. Mr. and Mrs. Stanley, the doctor, and Mr. Douglas watched the fun while they made plans for the future of three little girls.

Wearied at last, the merry-makers gathered about the piano and listened as first one and then another sang some loved song.

One good-night song they begged, and Mr. Douglas, standing in the mellow light, sang as no one had ever heard him sing before:

“Then be ye glad, good people,This night of all the year,And light up all your candles,For His star it shineth clear.”

“Then be ye glad, good people,This night of all the year,And light up all your candles,For His star it shineth clear.”

“Then be ye glad, good people,This night of all the year,And light up all your candles,For His star it shineth clear.”

“Then be ye glad, good people,

This night of all the year,

And light up all your candles,

For His star it shineth clear.”

THE END.

Transcriber’s Notespg3Changed: She is a little Christmas Star,to: She is a little Christmas Star.pg8Changed: Yes, we have been priviledgedto: Yes, we have been privilegedpg40Changed: Then be ye ylad, good people,to: Then be ye glad, good people,

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