YEARS have passed, and long since the grass was green over Mrs. Martin's grave. Side by side she lay with her gentle sister, and over the two graves the graceful branches of the willow drooped, and in summer the sod was starred with daisies.
It was December. The trees were bare of leaves, and the grass was withered. The weather was cold. The folks in Brinton predicted a hard winter. In the cosy home where Mrs. Hazeley now presided with a calm demeanor, and Flora flitted about happy and contented, there seemed no need to fear the searching winds of winter. Flora was no longer a girl, but a well-grown young woman—changed, and yet not changed. She had matured with years; but it was easy to discern the same merry, thoughtful Flora of the old days.
Shortly after his conversion, Harry had heard and followed the voice of his Master to "preach the gospel," and now he was the pastor of the church where AuntBertha had sat and listened to the gospel, eagerly taking in the blessed words of life—the same church where Aunt Sarah had listened, stern and cold, with her hard features turned upward to the minister; and the same church where two happy faces—one of a quiet and attractive-looking matron: the other of a fair, bright-eyed younger woman—were seen every Lord's Day.
Very proud was Flora of her manly, earnest brother who had won so completely the hearts of the people; and equally proud was Harry of his sister, who was loved and respected by all. They saw but little of Alec, who had never outgrown his love for the country, and who still lived in Brinton. He was industrious and economical, and his friends were sure he would some day be a wealthy man.
It wanted but a few days to Christmas, when, one afternoon, during a few idle moments, Flora stood by the window lightly drumming against the pane, and smiling, as if her thoughts were very pleasant.
She had not been standing there long when the front gate opened, and Harry came toward the house.
Flora hurried to open the door for him, and pausing to remove his overcoat, he said:
"Here is a letter for you, Flo."
"A letter for me?" she repeated. "I wonder from whom it can be." She returned to the room with the letter in her hand.
"A letter, Flora?" inquired her mother. "Who is writing to you, dear?"
"It is from Alec, mother," was the answer, a moment later.
"What does the dear boy say—anything of importance?" asked Mrs. Hazeley.
"It is a very short letter. Shall I read it?"
"Never mind, Flora; just tell us what he wants."
"It is simply a very short, but very urgent, invitation for us all to spend Christmas with him. You, especially, Harry."
"Me? I wonder why?"
"Shall we go, mother?"
"Of course. I would not disappoint the boy for anything; besides, we have not seen him for so long."
All were satisfied with this arrangement.
Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, but very cold.
Harry held service in the morning in his church, andof course Mrs. Hazeley and Flora were present. Everything was in readiness to start away immediately at its close.
"It will not really matter; and we cannot miss seeing our Harry conduct his first Christmas service," said Flora, positively.
The exercises were simple but impressive; the singing sweet and solemn—the sermon earnest and tender. It seemed to Flora as if she were shut in from everything, and that she really moved among the circumstances connected with the Saviour's birth. It seemed to her that she was with the wise men who brought gifts, and came to worship the infant Jesus; and the words of the anthem, "Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, good will to men," echoed and re-echoed through her whole being. "Truly," she thought, "that peace has entered my soul, and how can I have aught but 'good will to men'?"
Mrs. Hazeley's feelings found expression by the tears rolling down her cheeks under her veil. Flora saw them, but knew they were for joy.
Never had Harry spoken as he spoke that morning. He scarcely recognized himself in the preacher whose impassioned words were holding spell-bound the peoplewho filled the church, drawing from them alternately tears of sympathy and smiles of joy.
When the service was at an end, and the usual interchange of Christmas wishes over, the young minister joined his mother and sister, who were waiting for him, and, with one upon each arm, directed his steps to the depot, where they boarded the cars for Alec's home.
Flora felt too peaceful and happy to talk, and, in fact, they were all disinclined for conversation, and so the short journey was made in silence. True to his word, Alec was at the station to welcome them, and delighted that they had all come.
He conducted them to a carriage he had in waiting, and helped them in.
"What do you want to ride to Major Joe's for?" asked Harry. "It is such a short distance."
"Oh, I want you to ride to-day, so ask no more questions," was the saucy reply.
"Alec has some new project in his head," whispered Flora to her mother, who nodded and smiled, as if anything and everything were in order, so far as she was concerned.
Harry asked no more questions, but was busy looking about him, and trying to decide where they were going;if to Major Joe's, why take such a roundabout course? All to no avail, however, and he abandoned the matter to the driver.
There was no snow, to cover with its white, glittering blanket, the rough spots, but the brightness of the sun made amends for this lack by gilding the bare places. It was a green Christmas, but there was a lurking promise of snows and storms yet to come, in the brisk, sharp wind, that drove the withered leaves—reminders of the summer's beauty—along, as Flora remarked, "like little, old women dressed in brown, and caught in a wind-storm." Alec noticed, as they drove along, that his brother still glanced about inquiringly, evidently not yet satisfied as to the road to Major Joe's from the station. Alec was amused. It was so long since Harry had been there, he felt sure he could not remember. It was with a view to drawing his attention from this, and thus prevent his asking more questions, that Alec began to talk diligently. He pointed out the different objects of interest along the way, and then would branch off into a series of remarks or conjectures concerning them.
"This now," he said, pointing to a pretty house they were passing, "is Mrs. Brown's new residence. Isn't ittasteful? Contains all the latest modern improvements—at least, so they say. And here is the homestead of a well-to-do widow. Very benevolent. Quite a good thing for widows." He was interrupted by Flora's inquiry:
"Why widows especially?"
"Oh, because, you see, all they need is to have just enough to keep them comfortably while they live. They don't care about making improvements, and buying or speculating as a general thing, like——"
"Like what?" asked Harry, drily, as his brother paused.
"Well, like me, for instance," returned Alec.
"So, I suppose you think there is no necessity for you to be benevolent."
"It's not but that I should, so much as I cannot afford to be. You see, I am a young man, and I need to be very prudent about the way I invest what money I have, in order to accumulate a little more."
"Oh, Alec," laughed Flora, "you certainly have accumulated a pretty good stock of self-complacency, and have cultivated a fine opinion of yourself."
"Yes," returned Alec, good-humoredly, touching uphis horse with the end of his whip. "One must blow his own trumpet, if no one else will for him."
"Bad policy, my boy," interposed Harry, who seemed for the time being, to feel himself a boy again. "Bad policy. It is better not to have a trumpet blown at all, than to do it yourself. True worth will always receive its proper recognition."
"Not always; you are wrong there," said Alec, his eyes twinkling mischievously at the success of his plan for diverting his brother's attention.
"Yes, always," persisted Harry. "Probably not from the direction you desire, or are looking toward; but, if one looks in the right direction, he will find that if he is worthy of esteem, honor, and respect, he will get it from those upon whom his course has made an impression. The trouble is, that people often look too far away. Either they do not think to look among those immediately about them, and among whom they live, or they do not place the proper value upon their opinions and respect."
"Well, well," said Alec, coolly, as he drew up before the gate of a new and very pretty cottage. "I am very much obliged to you for your valuable homily. I hope I shall profit by it. But, my dear brother, 'all is wellthat ends well'; and as my chief object in engaging you in conversation was to give you something to think about besides which way we were going, I am delighted that I was successful." And with a polite bow, the saucy fellow jumped down and proceeded to help his passengers to alight.
NO sooner had the little party alighted, than the cottage door flew open, and a crowd of familiar faces met their astonished gaze.
There was the old major, wrinkled and lame, leaning on his cane, but smiling as if he had forgotten that there was any "rheumatiz" in the world.
There was the bright-faced little Jem of long ago, now grown into a stout maiden, and looking as sober and matter-of-fact as ever.
And motherly little Ruth was there, with her face wreathed in smiles.
There was good Mrs. Benson, busy and bustling with the weight of some unusual responsibility.
Such a royal welcome as our friends received. Tongues were kept busy with stories of the generosity of the dear old Saint Nicholas, and wishes for the new year.
"What a pretty house!" exclaimed Flora, as the hum of voices was lessening.
"I am glad you like it, sister mine," returned Alec who was at her side, "because, you know, it belongs to me."
"To you? Then you have been industrious in all these years. Are you going to live here all alone?"
"Yes, you are right there, Flora," Alec answered, totally ignoring her question. "I have worked hard, and saved too. But, there! I am blowing my own trumpet again, in spite of Hal's lecture!" And he glanced roguishly at his brother.
But Harry only smiled.
"What on earth do you want with a whole house?" asked Flora, curiously. "Are the major and Mrs. Benson going to live with you?" she added, wishing to understand it all.
"No," said Alec, "they are going back home."
Flora and Harry were thoroughly puzzled, and from time to time glanced at their brother questioningly, as if they feared he was joking them. Flora noticed, however, what the others were all too busy to see, that Alec was constantly glancing out of the front window, as if expecting some one.
At last her curiosity and his evident uneasiness were both satisfied; for a buggy drove up to the door, and fromit alighted a young girl and an elderly woman, and—Joel Piper, who after dismissing the conveyance came toward the house, where they were met by Alec, who presented them triumphantly to the rest.
"Lottie Piper, is this you?" cried Flora.
The young girl was really Lottie, and the elderly woman was Mrs. Emmeline Durand, her aunt.
"Yes, it's me," answered Lottie, serenely and ungrammatically.
"This is a delightful surprise. What next?" exclaimed Flora.
"Shall I tell you?" asked Alec, coming forward and offering Lottie his arm, who evidently understood the whole situation; "it is simply this,"—and the two fine-looking young people walked toward the window where Harry was standing, and paused before him,—"I love Lottie, and I think she loves me." Lottie's bright eyes dropped to the floor, her face suffused with blushes, with a bright little smile trembling around her mouth. "I love Lottie; and, Harry, I want you to pronounce us husband and wife."
Mrs. Hazeley and Flora looked somewhat dazed, and then, turning to each other, locked arms and walkedtoward the bridal pair, each face showing surprise, but also betraying real joy at the event.
The others were happy. All knew what the day would bring forth, and each had united with the others in mystifying Mrs. Hazeley, Flora, and Harry.
The last named, while much surprised, as was but natural, understood the situation and the part he was expected to take, as Alec and Lottie stepped toward him.
"Very well, Alec. I am glad you have made such a happy choice. Are you both ready? Please stand here. That is it. So."
Then, amid the hush that fell upon the little company, Harry's voice was clearly heard, saying:
"'What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.'"
At the close of the short, but very impressive service, Harry offered a short prayer that the "great All-Father would watch over, guard, and guide these two lives that had linked themselves together for all time."
Then came congratulations, and everybody tried to talk at once. Then came dinner. This was in charge of Mrs. Benson, and it is only necessary to say that it was one long to be remembered; for she was an excellent cook.
In the course of the dinner, Alec was pressed by Flora to tell how he had become acquainted with Lottie. He quite willingly complied.
"I first met her on the day I came down to see you off on the cars when you all left for Brinton; and just as the train was disappearing around a curve, and I was turning about to go home, a girl came running up all out of breath.
"'Oh,' said she, 'has the train gone?' I said, 'Yes; did you want to get on?'
"'No,' said she; 'but my friend is on it, and I wanted to say Good-bye.' 'I'm sorry,' said I, 'but who is your friend?' Not that it was any of my business to know, but somehow or other I felt interested, and she didn't seem to mind, but said: 'Flora Hazeley.' 'That's my sister,' said I; 'do you know her?' 'I guess I do,' was the answer. 'It is too bad; but it can't be helped, I suppose. I'm always late when I should be early, and early when I should be late.'
Page 184Hazeley Family.Page 184.
"This sounded so odd that we both laughed, and then she turned and was out of sight in a very few seconds. I didn't see her again until one day several years afterward, when I was doing business for myself—taking my vegetables and things to town to sell, you know. It happened on this morning I had some fine, fresh vegetables left over from market, and I wanted to sell them before going home. I went through several streets, knocking at the doors and asking if the folks would like to buy what I had. At one of the houses I met Lottie again. She did not recognize me at first, but amused me very much by the close bargains she drove. 'Well,' said I, 'you are a case.' She looked up at me suddenly, as if she would like to give me a bit of her mind, and she saw who I was. Then, of course, she began to ask after you all; and that is the way we became acquainted. I always went there afterward when I had anything left over, and, when I saw what a close bargain she could drive, and what a good housekeeper she made for her aunt, I thought: 'Lottie is the girl to help a fellow get on in the world.' So, after a while, with the consent of the good aunt and no objections from our brother Joel here, to whom we wrote about the matter, and who came on to see us and give us his blessing, we made the arrangements that you see have been carried out to-day."
"How about Lottie's father?" said Flora, slyly.
"We wrote to him too, and he didn't object, either—thatthat is, he didn't answer—and silence is consent, you know."
"Alec," said Harry, gravely, "I am glad, of course, to see you doing well; but it hurts me to hear you talk so much about getting rich and saying nothing about higher and better things. What is to become of you when you are called to lay aside the possessions you are striving so hard to get?"
"Now, never you mind Alec, my good preacher brother," interposed Lottie, looking at him with a complacent smile. "Alec is fond of mystifying people. He is just as good a Christian as ever a young man was. He and I both—to set your mind at rest—were converted over a year ago, at a revival in Bartonville. We mean to try and live right—don't we, Alec?" And she beamed on everybody, in no way abashed by her frank confession. It was plain that Lottie would be matter-of-fact and practical to the end of her days.
"My dear Alec, give me your hand!" cried Harry. And the two brothers clasped hands warmly, while Joel nodded approvingly. Flora, who sat next to Lottie, slipped her arm around her waist and gave her a sisterly embrace; and Mrs. Hazeley exclaimed, wiping the tearsaway: "If ever a woman was blessed in her children, I am that one. Truly, God is good."
"That he is," rejoined Mrs. Benson. "My husband and I can testify to that." And her eyes rested lovingly upon Ruth and little Jem.
"Well," put in Mrs. Durand, Lottie's aunt. "Youare all rejoicing; but I am not so sure that I can join you. I lose my housekeeper and the only companion I have when I lose Lottie. One doesn't mind living alone so much when one is used to it; but when you have had company for so long, it comes awkward to go back to the old habits."
"Remember the old proverb, Aunt Emmeline, 'Never cross the bridge until you come to it,'" laughed Lottie. Then, turning to Alec, who sat quietly smiling, she said: "Tell her, Alec, do."
"Aunt Emmeline, come with me a moment; I have something to show you," and offering her his arm they left the room. Crossing the wide hall, they ascended the stairs, and stopping at a closed door, Alec said, as he pushed it open:
"This room is for Aunt Emmeline, as long as she will occupy it. We could not do without her."
Mrs. Durand's fears were thrown to the wind when she heard this, and saw the dainty room. Turning to Alec, with her eyes bright with tears, she said, as she threw her arms around his neck:
"Oh, Alec, I do not deserve this. But it makes me very happy to know you think enough of me to do this for me."
As they entered the room, where all was gayety, her face wreathed in smiles, Mrs. Durand said:
"Now I can join in the general rejoicing. I have a new home—this one—with Lottie and Alec."
Everybody was pleased, and Lottie looked her happiness; for her face was ever very expressive of her feelings.
For a long time Jem, who was as quiet and quaint in her ways as ever, had been occupied in the effort to make peace between Dolby and Pokey, who were now old and feeble, but very dear to the heart of their mistress, who had insisted that they must come to the wedding.
During Alec's story, Flora had caught a look of decided disapproval on Jem's face, and determining to ascertain the cause, she asked:
"Jem, dear, does anything trouble you? What do you think of this?"
"Do you mean the wedding?" Jem questioned.
"Yes."
"Well, then,"—and the words came slowly, distinctly, and decisively,—"I think it was a very disinteresting one."
"How would you have had things, if you could have had your way?" asked Flora, much amused at Jem's positive tone.
"Oh,I'dhave had white satin, and orange blossoms, and lots of presents, and a great big wedding cake, with a beautiful ornament on top, and all such, you know." In her earnestness she had forgotten that Pokey was on her lap, hidden under the table-cloth, for fear her indulgent grandma would see her and be disgusted, and banish her from the room. Pokey, feeling that the little hands were no longer pressing her down and reminding her that she must lie still, quietly dropped to the floor, and began cautiously to explore.
"Now, Jem," went on Flora, argumentatively, "suppose we did have all the fine things you named, how much happier would that make us all?"
"Oh, I don't know anything about that. I only know it would have been prettier, and more to my taste as aguest, you see," returned Jem with dignity, much to the amusement of her listeners.
"Ah, Jem," said Harry, shaking his head at her, and pretending to be very serious: "Ah, Jem, you little know how much unhappiness often follows the orange blossoms and satin."
"I don't know anything about that, either," was the cool rejoinder. "I only know they are prettier to look at."
"Everybody to his taste, say I, Jem," remarked Alec, solemnly; which bit of philosophy was promptly put into practice by Dolby, who evidently found it to his taste just then to spring upon Pokey while her young mistress was busy talking, and who received a sharp box on the ear for his pains. Of course such behavior necessitated the removal of poor Pokey in disgrace by Jem.
Before anybody was ready for it, the hour of separation had come. After a great deal of talking and a good many "good-byes," the Hazeleys were on the cars, being carried back to Brinton, and the unique reunion was over.
"What a queer Christmas party we have been to!" laughed Flora, when they were again at home. "But I enjoyed it."
"Yes," answered Harry. "So did I."
"And I," added his mother, "more than all. Just to think, what wonderful things God does bring about!"
"Yes," said Harry, reverently, "how well the words of Isaiah apply to us: 'I will lead them in paths that they have not known. I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight.'"
Transcriber's Note:Punctuation has been standardised. Both "to day" and "to-day" have been retained as they appear in the original publication, as has "extonished". On page 132 "let the way direct" has been changed to "ledthe way direct".
Transcriber's Note:
Punctuation has been standardised. Both "to day" and "to-day" have been retained as they appear in the original publication, as has "extonished". On page 132 "let the way direct" has been changed to "ledthe way direct".