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GABRIELLE M'IVOR'S VISIT.
"Why, Prissy ma chère," she said, "how tired you look! I don't believe you have had one regular good walk for a month; and 'tis so charming out of doors to-day. There are tiny icicles hanging from the eaves, and the trees have a coating on them like silver. What do you call it?—Filigree. And it is so lovely, they glitter so brightly in the sunshine. See now, Prissy, I shall help le petit Claude a bit, whilst you go and get ready for a walk. Nay, chère amie, do not shake thy head; thou must go and get some fresh air, or I shall tell papa to speak to Dr. Warner about it."
"Oh no, Gabrielle, do not do so, I pray," pleaded Prissy. "It would only vex my father. But indeed I have not time to walk to-day. Claude has been longer than usual over his lessons; and now it is the hour I go to read to my father; and after that I must write to Austin in time to catch the post. And then comes the children's dinner, and—"
But Gabrielle listened to no more.
"No, Prissy; you must get some fresh air and exercise. You are killing yourself; and then when you have succeeded in so doing, what is to become of votre père? Now there is a poor woman in the town who says she 'be's greatly in want of a sight of Miss Warner,' for her spirits be down, and there's none can comfort her like the miss from the Grove. I be's 'too much of a French woman' for she, you know, so do go, there's a chère petite, and I shall stay here and read to the good professor for an hour."
Prissy's face brightened, both at the girl's cheery words, and at the prospect of getting what, truth to tell, she had been longing to obtain—a brisk walk in the winter sunshine, if only she could do so without neglecting her home duties.
"Well, Gabrielle, la belle Gabrielle," she said, "you always do contrive to get your own way somehow; and if you would read to papa for one hour, I would like to take a short walk and go to the town to see some of the people there. Now let us make an inroad on papa in his study, and leave Claude to finish that sum alone."
Arm in arm the two girls went into the library, surprising the professor as he sat absorbed in thought.
Gabrielle's silvery voice broke the silence. "Dr. Warner," she said, "will you let me take Prissy's place for a while to-day? Vous voyez the fairies have been at work all night covering the trees with silver, and it is so lovely out of doors, and I wish Prissy to see it ere it vanishes; so I have come to read to you—not on mathematical subjects, please. But I am ready for anything else you like; only say I may remain."
Dr. Warner smiled. "Surely, if you will," he said. "I know Priscilla does not go out enough, especially since I have had this bad cold, and she has not had me to take charge of out of doors.—So, my daughter, la belle Francaise shall read to me, and we'll leave the mathematical papers till night."
Prissy pressed a kiss on her father's brow, saying cheerfully, "As you like it, papa; only don't let Gabrielle usurp my place!"
"No fears of that," said her friend. "But, Prissy, suppose you take little Ruth with you, and leave her to play for an hour in our cottage with Jeanie. And you can tell ma chère mère that I am here, and she need not expect me back for a long while."
"Very well," said Prissy, "I'll do so. Ruth will be charmed to go. And see you take good care of papa."
And so saying, Prissy Warner, giving her friend a bright smile, ran off to get herself and Ruth ready for a walk in the bright winter sunshine.
THE CHRISTMAS TREE.
"Christmas gifts for thee,Grand and free!Christmas gifts from the King of love,Brought from his royal home above;Brought to thee in the far-off land,Brought to thee by his own dear hand."
THE Christmas holidays had just commenced, when Archie Warner, followed by Claude and little Ruth, ran into the parlour of the Grove, where they found Priscilla seated at work.
"Hurrah for six weeks' holidays!" said Archie, throwing a bundle of books on the table. "And Austin will be here on Christmas eve, and we must give him a famous welcome, Prissy. And we want to get up a tree this year. You know we used to have one always when mother was alive; and we could have a jolly one this year. The M'Ivors could come, and—"
"O Archie," interrupted his sister, "don't speak of it. Think on our poor father; and then how could I possibly spare the time to prepare it? I am sorry, but really I don't think it could be managed."
A shade crossed the boy's face.
And even little Ruth said, "O Prissy, tan't we have a tree? 'Twould be so nice."
But Archie muttered—
"Oh, well, it does not matter, only all the other fellows are having one; and as to our father, I'm sure I wouldn't for worlds have anything he would not like, or you either, Prissy. I did not think about the trouble, but just hearing all the others talking about the fun they were going to have in the holidays put it into my head."
"All the other fellows are having one." The words rung in Prissy's ears. It was true enough; she knew they would.
And Archie and even Claude would be contrasting the bright holiday-making of their companions with the dulness of their home. No; that must not be, cost what it might. The boys must have a bright Christmas day.
So seeing the effort that Archie was making to throw off his disappointment, she said, "Well, I will tell you what, boys—I'll try and manage it for you, if you will promise to do all you can to help me; that is, if our father will agree to it, for I will have no secret from him. Oh, poor father! If only his sight could be restored. And, you know, the London oculist has held out some faint hope that an operation may prove effectual, or at least partially so."
The young faces round her brightened as Prissy spoke, though Archie had the grace to say, "Oh! But it would be a shame, Prissy, after all, to put more work on you; still, if my father says we may, we would try and save you trouble, and I know the M'Ivors would help. Jules is so clever at making things, and Miss M'Ivor and André also. Oh, it will be famous if we can have it, and give Austin a surprise. You are a dear, good old Prissy!"
"Come along then, all of you, and we will go to the study and see what our father thinks about it. Only remember you are to ask him yourselves."
Archie and Claude shrunk back at those words.
But Ruth ran off to her father, and jumping on his knee, which was her favourite seat, she said, "Father, O father, we wants to have a Christmas tree all covered with lights and pretty things, 'cause Austin's 'turning home; and Prissy says we may, if you'll only let us."
"A Christmas tree, my little Ruth?" said her father, stroking her silken curls as he spoke. "Ah me! 'Tis long since there was one in this house. How old are you, my little maid?"
"Why, father, I'm six years old. But what has that to do with a tree? I'm big enough to see one, surely. Do say we may have one. Archie wants it, and Claude too."
"Yes, father," chimed in both boys; "we would like it, if you are willing."
The professor paused for a moment, then replied, "Certainly you may; only on one condition, boys: you must promise not to let all the trouble fall on your sister, for she has more than enough on her shoulders already. It is a marvel to me the amount of work she gets through, mental and otherwise. She puts many a man to shame, though she is 'only a girl.'"
Prissy laughed; the once dreaded sobriquet had lost its terrors. "Well, father," she said, "if you agree, I second the boys, for I like the thought of having a tree as much as they do, for, you see, in one sense I am still 'only a girl.'"
A loud shout of "Thanks, father, thanks," rung round the room, till Prissy dismissed them all, saying, "Now do run down to the M'Ivors and enlist them to help in the Christmas tree."
"That will be capital," said Archie. "And may we take Ruth also?"
"Yes, you may, if you won't let her get into mischief. And, Archie, please just look in on Joe Smith for a moment, and tell him that, if possible, I will come down to-morrow and help him with his studies. Poor Joe! Isn't it a pity we can't have him at our Christmas tree? He is so much stronger now, if he could only be got here, he would enjoy it. Now off with you all. I don't wish to see any of you for a couple of hours at least."
"All right," said Archie laughing; "but—" and he lingered for a moment behind the others as he said, "remember that during holiday time, I'm to read to father every day. He is not to learn to depend on his daughter for everything, though she is a jolly good daughter and sister also." And so saying, he endorsed his opinion by a loud-sounding slap on his sister's shoulder, then ran off, slamming the door after him in true boy-like fashion, which made his father exclaim—
"Gently, Archie, gently!" Then turning to Prissy, he said, "I fear, my daughter, this Christmas tree plan will throw a great deal of extra trouble on you. If so, just tell me, and I will put a stop to it at once."
"Oh no, father; I would not have it stopped on any account. At first I was selfish enough not to wish to have it at all; but now that I see how set the boys and little Ruth are on having it, I am thankful I yielded. I would like Archie and Claude to have a bright home Christmas. Archie is a fine boy, father, and a steady one."
"Yes," said Dr. Warner, "he is;" and he sighed as his thoughts wandered to the son whom in face and figure Archie so strongly resembled. "Dr. Sparling, too, speaks highly of him. He says his talent lies more for languages than for mathematics; he also says his general conduct is so good that he sets an example to the whole school. He has to thank you, Priscilla, for the home influence he has had. You are a comfort to us all, my daughter."
A flush of pleasure mantled Prissy's face. A word of commendation from her father was very sweet to her.
But she said smilingly, "Ah! then, father, you confess that a woman may be a comfort in her home and yet study even mathematics?"
She spoke in a jesting tone, and expected a reply in a like strain. She was surprised, therefore, when her father laid his hand on her head, and said solemnly, "I do confess it, my child, when a woman has the grace of God in her heart to enable her to keep her different duties in their right place, and to prevent her being conceited and puffed up by her mental attainments, or careless as regards household matters. And now, my daughter, if you can spare me an hour or two to act as my amanuensis, I will be well pleased."
"Certainly, father," was the ready reply, and in a few minutes father and daughter were busy at work.
Whilst they were so engaged, Archie, Claude, and Ruth had made their way to the cottage where the M'Ivors lived. Entering the bright little parlour, Archie soon made their errand known.
"A Christmas tree!" said Gabrielle, jumping up from her work. "A Christmas tree! That will be good. Yes, of course, Archie, tell Prissy we will all be charmed to help her. And you also, maman," she said, turning to her mother—"you are so clever with your fingers, you will assist?—Oh, it is delightful. And all the little ones are to come, did you say?"
"Yes; and if Mr. and Mrs. M'Ivor would come also, my father and Prissy said they would be delighted to see them; and, of course, André as well."
Gabrielle clapped her hands with glee. "Oh, that is better and better! You will go? Do say you will, chère maman!"
Mrs. M'Ivor smiled at her daughter's eagerness, but assented to the proposal, unless the evening proved very cold. "For," she said, turning to Archie, "your Christmas is très-froid, très-froid sometimes."
"Ah!" he replied. "But this year, madam, it is going to be fine; every one says we are going to have a bright Christmas."
Then turning to Gabrielle and the boys, an animated discussion arose on decorations and suitable presents. Coloured paper was produced at once, and ere long, Gabrielle's clever French fingers had cut out some really tasteful ornaments for the tree. The time slipped away only too quickly, and on their way home, Archie found he had just a minute or two to spend with Joe Smith, who hailed with pleasure the announcement of a visit from Miss Warner.
"You see, Mr. Archibald," he said, "she is such a kind, patient teacher; and if ever I become a scholar, and of any use in the world, it will all, under God, be owing to her and Mr. Austin. Ay, and more than that I owe to them, for it was they who told me of the love of Jesus, and led me into the kingdom of God. Please tell Miss Warner I will be delighted to see her to-morrow."
And Archie, promising to do so, set off homewards, holding little Ruth by the hand. There was a sober, thoughtful look on his face, for Joe's words had set him thinking.
Did he, he asked himself, love the Lord Jesus, as Austin, Prissy, and Joe Smith did? And like them, was he helping on Christ's kingdom? It was not necessary in order to do so to become a minister or missionary; for Prissy had often spoken to him on that subject, and her life had proved to him that it is in little things as well as in great that God can be glorified.
And as Archie Warner walked home on that bright December day, he began to wish to be a Christian—at all events, some times, perhaps when school duties and pleasures did not so fully occupy him. And so he turned his thoughts to the pleasures of the hour, and forgot that it is written:
"Seek ye first the kingdom of God."
NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY.
"Well hath she learned to sympathize with every hope and fear;Well hath she learned the sorrowing heart to brighten and to cheer."
CHRISTMAS had come at last! A good old-fashioned one it proved. Snow had fallen heavily for some days before, and now it lay inches deep on hill and dale. A sharp frost had set in, and the crystal-like icicles hung from the eaves of the house and branches of the leafless trees. Beautifully they glistened under the light of the moonbeams as they touched them with their silver light, and glistened on the white canopy of snow that lay thickly on the garden and grounds surrounding the Grove.
Austin and Prissy Warner stood for a few minutes alone at a window gazing at the fair scene.
"How lovely it is to-night!" said Prissy. "And the children are so happy at the prospect of the Christmas tree. But oh, Austin, if our father could only see it; and if Lewis were with us, or if we knew where he was."
Her head drooped as she spoke, and the tears that filled her eyes dimmed the beauties of the outside world.
Her brother put his arm lovingly round her, and said in answer to her last words, "God knows, dear Prissy, and his arm is round our erring brother wherever he is; and, sister, somehow I can't despair of Lewis. I know how far wrong he was led by evil companions; but Lewis had many noble traits of character. His affection for his home was deep, his love to our father intense, and he cherished the memory of our mother fondly."
"But, Austin," interrupted Prissy, "if that were all so, how came he to do what he knew would well-nigh break his father's heart, and would have grieved so deeply our mother? How can you reconcile these things?"
"It is difficult, no doubt, to do so," replied Austin. "Lewis, by nature, was easily led; and then, Prissy, he had not learned to lean in his weakness on an Almighty strong arm, and so became a prey to sharpers. But may we not believe that it was deep shame for the disgrace he had brought on himself, and dread of seeing his father's grief at it, that made him fly from home?"
"It may be so," replied Prissy. "There were other causes which helped to drive him into evil companionship."
"Ah, well," said Austin, "if it were so, Prissy, you have nobly, as far as possible, made up for your past neglect in that respect: 'The Lord hath restored to you the years that the cankerworm hath eaten.' But we must not linger here, pleasant as it is. Let us go first to our father and see if he is willing to come to the drawing-room."
As together they entered the study, and the light of the lamp fell on his sister's face and figure, Austin was struck with her beauty as he had never been before. Her rich brown hair was brushed slightly back, displaying her finely-formed brow. Her deep, thoughtful gray eyes were turned lovingly towards her father; and her brother observed the womanly dignity of her whole bearing, which the discipline of the last few months had greatly enhanced and developed. Her dress, of some soft crimson stuff, fell in graceful folds round her, contrasting with the whiteness of her neck and arms, and adding beauty to the whole of her appearance. No wonder her brother thought her fair to look on.
Dr. Warner willingly agreed to go to the drawing-room, saying, "What although I cannot see the beauties of the tree, I can at least—thank God!—hear the voices of my children and friends. Then I have my borrowed eyes always beside me, you know," and as he spoke he laid his hand on Prissy's arm. "Yes, my boy," he said turning to Austin, "one of the greatest of my many mercies is the possession of such a loving daughter as Priscilla. She has indeed shown me what noble, true work can be done by 'only a girl.'"
"I knew her real worth long ago, father," said Austin, "and was sure the day would come when you also would appreciate it. But who comes here?" he added, as the study-door was opened, and the vicar entered, followed by a young man who came forward with an outstretched hand.
Prissy went forward to meet him, and with a start of glad surprise recognized her old friend Harry Lascelles.
The name escaped her lips, and instantly Dr. Warner was on his feet. "Harry Lascelles! Is he here? Welcome, a thousand times welcome, though I can no longer see thee face to face."
In a moment Harry was beside his old friend. "I am grieved, so grieved, Dr. Warner, to hear of the trial that has fallen on you. I only heard of it to-night; for a long time had elapsed since I had had news from home, and I had begun to get anxious about you all.—It is pleasant to see you again, Miss Prissy," he continued; "I can hardly believe my eyes when I look at you. You were only a girl when I left home, and now you are a woman."
And had he spoken out his thoughts, he would have added, "A rarely beautiful one also." But Harry was no adept at compliments, so he contented himself by letting his eyes say the words his lips refused to utter.
"Then as to Austin, he has entirely grown out of my knowledge. Dr. Warner," he said, turning suddenly towards him, "what tall, fine-looking young men your sons have become! Why, Lewis is—"
But ere he could say another word, the father had sprung to his feet, exclaiming—
"Lewis, did you say? What of him? Tell me, Harry, oh, tell me, is he still alive? My erring but much loved boy!"
Dr. Lascelles gently put the old man back in his chair, then seating himself beside him, he said, "Yes, Dr. Warner, your son Lewis is alive. I have seen him, and bear a letter from him imploring your forgiveness. And I can testify that, in the highest sense, 'he that was dead is alive again, he that was lost is found' by the good Shepherd, and is now, as he says himself, 'seeking first the kingdom of God and his righteousness.'"
"God be praised," said the father. "Where is he now?"
Ere the question could be answered, Priscilla and Austin had eagerly repeated it, saying, "Oh, tell us all. How, when, and where have you seen him? And oh," added Prissy, "has he forgiven me?"
"Forgiven you?" repeated Harry. "I did not know he had anything to forgive you. But here is his own letter; it will, no doubt, tell you all you wish to know. But ere you read it, I must tell you what I know—"
"About a year ago our ship touched at Sydney, and the captain told us he would be detained there on business several weeks. On hearing that, I resolved I would regularly attend at the hospitals there, and so keep up my medical knowledge of general cases, which I had very limited opportunity of doing on board ship. Passing through the wards one day, my attention was arrested by the face of a young lad which I seemed to know, and yet was unable to tell to whom it belonged. I approached the bed, and asked him some medical questions, when it was plain that the lad knew me also, but did not wish me to recognize him; for as he spoke, a deep flush suffused his face, and he turned his back to me, muttering something about the light. But the moment I heard his voice, I knew it was Lewis Warner that lay there."
"My boy! My loved boy!" exclaimed Dr. Warner.
Whilst both Prissy and Austin cried out in dismay, "Lewis lying ill in a hospital alone in a foreign land!"
"He is all right now," continued Harry. "But let me finish my story. I had heard from my father all about poor Lewis, and I at once addressed him by name, saying kindly, 'I am grieved to see you here, and looking so ill also. Do your friends know of your illness, and that you are here?'"
"The answer was given in a hard, hoarse way: 'My friends! I have none. I am called William Smith; don't you see my name there?' and he pointed to a letter lying on the table beside him."
"I took his hand and said firmly, 'Lewis, there is no use in trying to deceive me. I know you; and the moment you saw me, you recognized your old friend Harry Lascelles. By the memory of your mother now in glory, whom we both loved so clearly, speak to me frankly, Lewis, and tell me all—why you left your home, and how you come to be here.'"
"For one moment he made an effort to repulse me; then, poor follow, he broke down, and sobbed like a child, crying every now and then, 'O father! Father! If only he would forgive me!'"
"Poor boy, poor suffering boy!" said Dr. Warner. "And you told him, surely, Harry, you told him I had forgiven him long ago?"
"I did, doctor; and more than that. I told him how his heavenly Father, against whom he had sinned so grievously, was wanting to forgive him also, for Christ's sake. I left him much softened; and the eager way in which he sought news of you all, showed how his heart clung to his home and to the dear ones there. He had owed much to a kindhearted man of the name of Barton, whom I afterwards saw, and who told me that Lewis had been the means of saving him from ruin, by preventing him from entering a gambling-room in Sydney a couple of years before. He and Lewis had become acquainted with each other shortly before then; and Barton, having a little money in his pocket, was just going to try his luck at cards, and invited Lewis to join him, when the lad, who called himself William Smith, laid his hand on his arm and implored him not to enter the gambling-saloon, telling him it might prove his ruin if he did so."
"'The slip of a lad looked earnest about it,' said Barton (in telling me the story), 'so much so that I hesitated ere entering; and whilst I was so doing, I seemed to hear the voice of my dead mother saying to me, as she did the day before her death, "Enter not into the path of sinners." So, turning to the lad beside me, I said, "Well, my lad, I believe God sent you to me with a warning from him, and by his help, I'll never cross the threshold of one of these saloons again."'"
"'Will and I,' he continued, 'became regular chums, and went to the Kiandra gold diggings, where I picked up a few nuggets large enough to enable me, when Will grew ill there, to bring him back here and get him into the hospital, where—thank God!—you found him, sir.'"
"AS A LITTLE CHILD."
"The sun was low in the changing west,The shadows were heavy from hill and tree,As the watchman opened the gate of rest—'I am willing with all my heart,' said he."
HARRY LASCELLES paused a moment ere resuming the tale he had been telling, for his listeners were overcome with emotion.
Dr. Warner was the first to speak. "Thank God," he said, "my boy had learned a lesson on the evil Of gambling; and I am thankful he was instrumental in saving a fellow-creature from that terrible sin."
"I always felt sure," interrupted Austin, "that Lewis was led astray and made the dupe of a set of sharpers who came here on purpose to catch some of the older schoolboys. I always knew Lewis's heart was right."
"Lewis's letter," continued Harry, "will give you full particulars as to what he is now doing; but I want to add that, ere the six weeks of my stay in Sydney had come to an end, Lewis had recovered strength; and he had come as a poor, weak sinner to Jesus, and received forgiveness through his shed blood. He is very distrustful of himself, but has obtained, by the teaching of the Holy Ghost, full confidence in the power of his Saviour to hold him up in the paths of righteousness. Truly it is in the spirit of a little child that he has entered into the kingdom of God.—But now, Austin, you had better read aloud your brother's letter to your father and sister; and meanwhile my grandfather and I will go into the drawing-room, where I hear the sound of little voices, and will await you there. I suppose I'll find my god-daughter among the party." And so saying, he and the vicar left the room.
Then Austin, drawing near his father, read aloud his brother's letter. We will not give details. Suffice it to say it was a manly, earnest letter, making full confession of all that had taken place ere he left home, and imploring forgiveness for the past. He wrote much of the kindness of Harry Lascelles, who, he said, had been the means, not only of restoring his bodily health, but also of leading him to the Saviour. He had also obtained for him the situation of assistant mathematical master in the University of Sydney, where in his spare hours he was to attend two or three classes in order to finish his education.
He longed much, he wrote, to return home, that he might once more see his father and his loved ones; but Harry had counselled him to remain where he was, believing that was his present duty, and he had thought it best to follow his advice. He thanked Austin much for all the brotherly love he had ever shown to him, and for the words of warning he had again and again spoken to him. There was also a kind message to Prissy; and his warm love to all, not forgetting the M'Ivors, who had been true friends to him.
There were tears of joy not a few shed during the reading of the letter; and together the three knelt at the throne of grace and returned thanks to God for the loved one who had been dead and was alive again, lost and was found.
"And now," said the father, "lead me to the drawing-room, that we may share the children's mirth. I cannot see their faces, nor the lights of the Christmas tree, but a bright light has to-night been shed on my heart by the Prince of Peace himself, which lightens and indeed dispels all darkness."
As they entered, the children ran to meet them, and led them in triumph to the tree in the centre of the room. It was indeed a lovely one, ablaze with lights and glittering ornaments, its branches covered as if with hoar frost, and laden with blight-coloured fruits and tastefully-arranged presents.
Little Ruth, in a pale blue dress, was seated on Harry's shoulder—the very queen of the company.
Never, surely, had a Christmas tree seemed more beautiful, never did Christmas carols sound more sweetly than they did that night, for there was true Christmas joy in the hearts of the singers and listeners.
"Ah, it has been so charming," was the declaration of Gabrielle M'Ivor; whilst Austin Warner, and more than he, said in their hearts that it was to Gabrielle's deft fingers and artistic taste that the tree owed much of its beauty; and that her silvery laugh and loving words had contributed much to the pleasure of the evening.
When the last hymn was sung—
"Hark, the herald angels sing,'Glory to the new-born King;Peace on earth, and mercy mild,God and sinners reconciled!'"
And the last good-nights exchanged, Priscilla lingered for a moment in the drawing-room, holding Ruth by the hand, whilst Claude and Archie stood beside her. Harry Lascelles came forward to say good-night, kissing his little god-daughter as he did so; then said in a voice heard only by Priscilla, "Thank God, dear Sissy, that you have a work to do that angels might envy, and that you are doing it."
She smiled sadly and said, "But, Harry, it has not been always so."
"I know it," he replied. "I spoke of the present. Thank God, he has told us what he has done with all our past repented of sins and failures—cast them behind his back."
And once more saying good-night, he departed, and Priscilla retired to rest.
BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM.
"There are souls that seem to dwellAbove this earth, so rich a spellFloats round their steps, where'er they move,From hopes fulfilled and mutual love."
FIVE years have passed since the Christmas eve we have written about in our last chapters. Once more summer sunshine was flooding the world, lighting up the dark pines near the Grove and playing among the many-coloured flowers in the garden there. It lighted up, as well, the gloomy cottages in the hamlet near, where Prissy Warner had for long carried on her blessed work of helping many of its dwellers into the kingdom.
A number of women with babies in their arms, and little ones just beginning to walk playing beside them, stood at the doors, enjoying the warmth of the lovely summer day. They were in earnest conversation; and from the remarks that fell now from one, now from another, it was evident that some event of importance to them was to take place that day.
"I be glad Mr. Austin and his bride are getting such a shiny day to come back. And to think that they start so soon again to foreign lands! But it's a grand missionary Mr. Austin'll make, that he will. He's a real Christian, so homely and kind."
"And his bride!" said a woman coming forward. "Have ye no word for her, the pretty young creature? I do say Miss Gabrielle that was is a sweet leddy, and a good; and only to think of her agoing to these heathen places, where she'll meet wi' all kinds of danger. Oh, she's a pretty one!"
"Oh yes," chimed in other voices, "that she be; and may she prove a good wife."
"But it'll be a sad day," said another voice, "for our leddy, Miss Warner, when her brother leaves, though she says she be's well pleased he is agoing to spend his life in tellin' the heathen 'bout Jesus. But she'll miss him sorely. The Lord bless her for all she's done for us and ours."
"Oh, she is a leddy, that she be," said many of them.
"It's a puzzle," said one, "how she has been let stay Miss Warner so long, though some do say there's summat between her and young Mr. Lascelles."
"Maybe, maybe there is, but we're in no hurry to have her taken from us, even by him. And how would the old gentleman and the young uns do without her? Though Miss Ruth is growing up a likely girl. But there, the carriage will be passing, and we'll lose the sight of the young couple as they pass to the Grove."
"But ye know," put in one or two voices, "we'll see them at the meetin' to-morrow night to bid them farewell and God-speed."
Yes, many besides the women whose conversation we have related wondered that Prissy was Miss Warner still. But so it was; and a happy, useful, Christ-like life she spent, nobly fulfilling her woman's mission as a helper and comforter. Her father clung to her with increasing tenderness, and turned to her as a help in his favourite pursuits. She still acted as amanuensis, though by God's blessing on the skill of a famous oculist, the sight of one of his eyes had been restored. And Claude and Ruth looked to her for help and sympathy in everything.
Father and daughter stood together a moment ere starting for the station, where they were going to welcome back Austin and his pretty bride Gabrielle from their marriage trip. They were coming to spend ten days at the Grove ere starting as missionaries to China.
"Prissy," said Dr. Warner, "it is a joyful thing now to me to think God has put it into Austin's heart to consecrate all his talents to his cause, and go as his ambassador to tell the good news of Christ crucified and risen again to the heathen. God grant he may be greatly used in gathering in souls to the kingdom of God."
"I am sure he will be so used," said Prissy with emotion. "Austin's desire since he was a boy has been to help on the kingdom of God; and he began to do so early, both in his own home and amongst his schoolfellows, and in later years he did so at college. So long ere he was ordained of men to preach the gospel, he had done so, wherever he had been, by life and word, and already many call him blessed."
"Yes, my daughter, I have long felt it is a mockery for any one to pray the words, 'Thy kingdom come,' and yet do nothing to help it on just where they live. Lewis and Archie have learned that lesson also, don't you think?"
"Yes, indeed," replied Prissy, "I am sure they have. Lewis writes that Austin taught him that lesson long ago, though it was our dear mother who first spoke to him about it. And Archie—O father, I am glad about him. His letters are so earnest and good, and he takes such just views of life and its responsibilities. I am sure he will make a noble Christian architect."
Ere Dr. Warner could reply, the door opened, and Ruth, a sweet-looking girl, entered, bearing a basket filled with violets in her hand.
"Prissy," she said, "I am taking these to give to Gabrielle as she steps out of the train, she does so love flowers, la petite Francaise! Though, I daresay, little Jean will be beforehand with me. Still there are no violets so sweet, I am sure, as ours are."
Prissy smiled, but said, "So be it, Ruth. But now let us be off; violets and all, in case the travellers arrive ere we do. I believe Claude is at the station already."
Father and daughters set off together, walking across the common, now richly carpeted with summer flowers.
"Ruth," said her father, playfully, "it would be more in keeping with your name if instead of violets, you bore a sheaf of corn in your hand."
"Not yet, father," she said, a quiet grave look crossing her face as she spoke. "But one day I do hope to carry a large sheaf and lay it down at the Master's feet, like the 'little soul-gatherer' of whom I read lately. That is my ambition, father, that the 'woman's work' I desire to do."
Prissy glanced at her with tears of joy in her eyes. Never before had Ruth so openly spoken of her life's aim.
In answer, her father laid his hand on Ruth's shoulder, saying, "The Lord give thee the desire of thy heart, my child."
With almost child-like glee, Ruth handed her basket of violets to Gabrielle as she stepped with her husband from the train to the spot where her own father, mother, and little Jean stood with Dr. Warner, Prissy, and Claude, ready to bid them welcome.
As they drove to the Grove, the bells pealed out. And when Austin and his bride were ensconced in his father's house, he stood up and prayed the Lord's Prayer.
As he uttered the petition so precious to the hearts of more than one of the assembled group:
"Thy kingdom come—"
It seemed caught up and echoed again and again over "hill and dale" by the silvery bells.
HOME AT LAST.
"Go labour on while it is day;The world's dark night is hastening on.Speed, speed thy work; cast sloth away:It is not thus that souls are won.""Men die in darkness at your side,Without a hope to cheer the tomb:Take up the torch and ware it wide,The torch that lights times thickest gloom."
THE evening of the farewell missionary meeting had come round. A soft, sweet summer evening it was. The sun was still shining, causing the slight haze that hung over village and hills to assume a golden hue; but a slight breeze had risen, and was playing very gently amongst the "leafy tide of greenery" which surrounded the little suburban church in which the meeting was to be held. People were already coming from all directions, some from the town of Hereford, others from little hamlets or pleasant farmsteads away in the opposite direction. In little groups they came, fathers, mothers, and children, or friendly neighbours, walking in twos and twos.
At the appointed hour, the little church was filled, and many a whispered blessing arose as the young missionary and his wife, accompanied by the M'Ivors and Dr. Warner, Prissy, Ruth, Archie, and Claude, entered.
Several of the neighbouring clergy were present to bid God-speed to the young couple ere they left their native land. At last, Austin stood up to say a few parting words.
"I thank God," he said, "that he has given to me the desire of my heart, in permitting me to go forth as a labourer in the dark places of the earth, many of which are white already to harvest. My heart is sad to-night as I think of bidding farewell to so many loved ones. But I go not alone. My loved wife goes with me, anxious to help on the great work of winning souls; and above all, the Saviour whom we love will himself go with us. And whilst he goes with us, he will also remain to bless and keep those we leave behind. Friends, pray for us, that the Word of the Lord may have free course and be glorified in heathen countries, even as it is in our own beloved land; and seek that ere long all the kingdoms of this world may become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ. And may he in mercy grant that all of us may one day be amongst those who shall stand before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with the palms of victory in their hands."
"Amen!" responded many voices.
And when the farewell words commending the young couple to the keeping of God were pronounced, tears fell from many eyes, and even strangers were strongly moved. Amongst those was a handsome young man who had entered the church after the service had begun, and had listened with rapt attention to the young missionary; but the moment he ceased to speak, his eyes turned eagerly to the pew where Professor Warner and his family sat, and rested with a look of deep emotion on the figures there.
When the service was concluded the stranger stood back to let the people shake hands with Austin and his bride.
But as the young missionary was saying a kindly word to one of his cottage friends, his eye rested on the face of the tall, bearded stranger, and he started as if an electric shock had passed through him. That face, that figure, changed though they were, recalled so vividly the companion of his boyhood, his loved brother Lewis. Could it be he? Unheeding the crowd around him, he pressed forward to where the stranger stood as if spell-bound, and in another second, their hands were clasped in a loving grasp, and the long-parted brothers were once more side by side.
"Thank God you are here, Lewis; but how comes it about? And our father, does he know? How glad he will be! See, he and Prissy have gone to the porch to await me."
"But, Austin (dear old fellow, how good it is to see you again!), I could not meet my father amongst strangers. Go you to the many friends who are waiting for you, and I will cross the common to the Grove and await you there."
And afraid to trust himself to say another word, he passed out unobserved, and took the road to his father's house.
Dr. Warner, Austin, Gabrielle, and Prissy had assembled once more in the pleasant drawing-room in the Grove, the father's eye lingering lovingly on the face of the son from whom he was so soon to part, probably for life, and his thoughts turned to his other dearly-loved son in Australia, who had now amply redeemed the errors of his youth, and had now for five years held a situation of trust in the University of Sydney. His thoughts found vent in words.
"Austin," he said, "I would that you and Lewis had met ere you left for China. Harry Lascelles writes he thinks we may expect your brother home ere very long, as he has now a chance of obtaining some good opening here.—But in the meantime, Priscilla, have we not been long of hearing from him? God grant there is nothing amiss."
Just then the door opened, and a stranger gentleman entered.
In a moment, Prissy sprung to her feet and moved, not toward the stranger, but to her father's side, as if to support him, whilst the word "Lewis" rose to her lips.
Instantly the stranger was beside her, and had thrown himself into his father's arms, saying, "Father, let me hear thy voice saying, 'I forgive thee.'"
But no words were required. The father broke down, and with tears of joy could only sob out the words, "My son, my first-born, much loved son, welcome, welcome home."
And Prissy and Austin repeated the words, "Welcome, welcome home."
When all the group knelt that night at the family altar, and Austin's voice rose in prayer, Lewis joined heartily in the Amen uttered by all as the young missionary prayed that those then kneeling in the presence of God would anew give themselves to Him, to spend their lives wherever they lived in seeking to draw souls out of Satan's kingdom, and lead them into that of the King of kings.
And when his words had ceased, Dr. Warner took up the strain, and gave thanks for the safe return of the one who "was lost, and was found again."
When Prissy and her brother sat together alone ere retiring to rest, they had much to say to each other. Prissy began to allude to her shortcomings in her home life.
But her brother interrupted her by saying, "Nay, Prissy, we will speak no more of the sins of our youth, but rather, by God's grace, like the apostle, forgetting the things that are behind, let us press forward to those that are before. What a noble fellow Austin has become!" he said. "And how bright and pleasant Gabrielle looks! And our Ruth too, Prissy, what a charm there is in her face; and as to Archie and Claude, I can scarcely believe they are the little fellows I left. And our father—ah! How he has aged, but how kind he is! Prissy, no one can ever know how I longed for a sight of him and all of you during the long weary weeks I lay in the hospital at Sydney. Ah! That was indeed a miserable time, till Harry Lascelles came and led my thoughts to our Father in heaven; and then I was led as a little child to come to Jesus, and to enter through him, even on earth, the kingdom of heaven."
No wonder, after all the events of that day, that Priscilla Warner lay down to rest with a song of praise in her heart for all the undeserved mercies received from the loving hand of their Father in heaven.
OLD FRIENDS.
"Jesus, still lead on,Till our rest be won;Heavenly Leader, still direct us,Still support, console, protect us,Till we safely standIn our Fatherland."
SOME years have passed since Austin Warner and his fair bride set off for China, and since Lewis had returned from Sydney. And ere we part we will take a glance at our old friends.
Priscilla Warner has changed her name, and for some time has been Priscilla Lascelles, and can no longer, she smilingly declares, be called "only a girl," for she is a matronly-looking person, and the mother of two little boys. Dr. Lascelles has left the navy, and is now a hard-working, well-employed medical man in Manchester. He and his wife are well known and beloved in the houses of the poor. Priscilla's talents are by no means hidden in a napkin, and more than one young man of limited means has reason to bless the doctor's kind wife, who willingly devotes a spare hour to helping them in their mathematical studies, and by her thoughtful actions and loving words seeks to turn them from darkness and lead them into the kingdom of God.
There is no fear, her brother Lewis says, that her boys will ever have to complain of the dulness of the evenings in their home, for father and mother alike do all they can to brighten the after-dinner hours for the young ones. The blessing of God, that "maketh rich and bringeth no sorrow with it," rests on that happy home, and Harry often tells his wife that now, as in olden days, God has intrusted to her a work which angels might envy.
At the Grove there is a small home-party now—only the professor and his bonnie Ruth, as he calls her, who has ably filled her sister's place since her departure. Ruth's ambition of being a soul-gatherer is being quietly but surely fulfilled. God is using her hand to gather in one by one precious souls to his garner. She has not Priscilla's wonderful talents, but she is well read and well informed, able to enjoy the conversation of her father and friends on any subject, and take part in it intelligently. But she finds her greatest pleasure in the service of the King of kings, in whose home harvest-field she loves to labour. Hers is no idle hand. Jean M'Ivor and she go hand in hand in helping on every good work.
Then Lewis, now a professor in a college in the north of England, and a married man, comes often to the Grove to see his old father.
And Archie, who resides in London, and is getting on well, also goes from time to time to see the inmates of the Grove.
And when the hot summer days come round, and the common is carpeted with bright flowers, Priscilla and her sturdy boys are packed off by the doctor from the close city to drink in the fresh breezes that blow around the Grove, and by their presence to cheer the hearts of the professor and his little Ruth.
The letters from China are full of hope. God is blessing the labours of Austin and Gabrielle there, and more than one soul has through their instrumentality been called out of the darkness of heathenism into light, and learned from their hearts to take up and echo the petition taught them by their divine Master:
"Thy kingdom come."
"We have much to encourage us," writes Austin, "but we need more workers. Let no one forget that even yet 'millions of souls in China are dying without a God.' And, dear ones, pray that the Lord of the harvest would send forth labourers into this harvest-field."
As Priscilla read aloud this letter to her father, she laid her hand on the head of her noble boys as they stood beside her, and prayed that one day they might be led to say, in answer to the Lord's appeal, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for me?" "Here am I; send me."
And so they also might, either at home or abroad, share in the great privilege of helping on "the kingdom of God."
THE END.