"Don't, dearest Archie-don't! I can bear any- to her feet as if to run away, but Ruth laid her thing but pity; please don't pity me." hand on her arm, and said gently— "But perhaps it is not so; perhaps he loves you still." She shuddered as I spoke, as if the words hurt her. "I feel it in my heart," she said; "I have been blind-foolish." Malcolm Laurie was to dine with us that night; and after dinner, when my father was asleep in the library, I challenged Edith to a game of chess in the drawing-room; then Ruth went up to Malcolm, and said, "Will you come and talk to me in the morningroom? I have something to say to you." He followed her directly, and Edith sat wistfully gazing at the door when they went out. Presently she roused herself with a start, and got the chess-men. Her play was hurried, thoughtless, dashing, and I beat her easily. "Edith, my child, do not go away, I have something to say to you." At this moment the hall-door was shut hastily, and we heard quick footsteps on the gravel. I saw Ruth's face quiver; a wild yearning light burnt in her eyes for a minute, but it passed, and she went on in a calmer voice than she had begun, "Archie, you need not go either. She will not mind if you hear;" and then she half whispered to Edith, “I am not engaged to Malcolm now." Edith's tear-stained cheeks glowed for an instant, then became whiter than before; but Ruth went on: 'He is unhappy; you must comfort him. Don't look so frightened, dear; he has done nothing wrong. It was I who broke it off." Then Edith's words broke out passionately. "Oh, Ruth! then you do not love him, and I may. Thank God!" Ruth did not answer, she only looked into Edith's face, as if wondering over the last words, and something in that wistful look went to Edith's heart; for she hurriedly kissed Ruth's hand that rested on her arm, and left the room. Then my sister came to me. "Are you glad that I am never to leave you, Archie?" she said. I drew her into my arms for answer, for I could not speak; and she looked up at me with a smile "Speak to me, Edith, if you will," I said, very such as her namesake long ago might have worn, gravely. when she said to Naomi, "Entreat me not to leave "You will blame me-you have blamed me. You thee." will hate me when you know all." "Do you remember once saying that it might never "I do know all. Edith, you love Malcolm Laurie, be?" she asked presently. who is engaged to your sister Ruth.” "Yes-yes-yes! but she does not love him as I do-she cannot." "You are not the judge of Ruth's heart," I replied, with some coldness. "Have you any reason to think that Malcolm Laurie loves you?" "We have never spoken of love at all," she answered; "he is too noble-too honourable for that; but-but-you see he sees so little of Ruth and so much of me, and he is so lonely-and-and I could be spared so much better than Ruth." "Yes, and you said, 'Then God help me!"" "And he has helped me," she answered reverently. "It will be better thus." "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends;" but it is great love, strong and true, and god-like love also, which will lay down all the joy and hope of a lifetime for the sake of another. Malcolm and Edith were married not long afterwards. Ruth herself smoothed all difficulties out of the way, and it was not hard to reconcile my father "Hush-hush!" I said, and Edith shrank away at to the change, when he knew that his favourite daughter was not to leave him. "We can spare Edith better than Ruth," he said often to me, and thought but little of her sorrow. Time has softened all things now. I can hardly recall what we all felt then, the disturbance, the constraint, the irritation of those months. I only knew that when I looked into Ruth's face, I had no selfish thought of gladness, for I would have given my life to have called back the youth and the light to it. But she made no martyr of herself; she cheerfully carried her burden of sorrow, and it has ceased to be a sorrow now she is happy. In throwing light and comfort, on all who come within her reach, she has found light and comfort herself. For miles round she is known as the good Lady of Elstone, and blessings are poured upon her by many a cottage hearth which she has made happy. Her nieces and nephews bring all their troubles and all their joys to Aunt Ruth, sure of finding ready sympathy from her. My father died six years ago; but to me Ruth is still the same tender nurse, the same loving sister, and I thank God for her every day that I live. "She hath done what she could." DOUGLAS'S DOINGS. OUGLAS was the son of an officer in the army who had been killed in battle. He lived with his mother and his father's aunt in a little house in the country. But the little house had a famous garden-a large garden, with fruit-trees on the walls, and long paths with high box edges. One of these paths led to the wooden shed where lived Douglas's rabbits, his own especial pets. Although Douglas was very fond of these rabbits, and spent hours in watching and playing with them, he could not be trusted to feed them himself. For a day or two perhaps he would remember this small duty, but on the third day the poor rabbits might have been at starvation-point but for the timely notice of the gardener. When reminded of it, no one could be more shocked than was Douglas. It was a pity; for this same careless forgetfulness was carried to excess in all he did. His toys and other possessions, one by one, came to grief in consequence, being left about in all sorts of places. Old One cold December night when Douglas was in bed, his mother and aunt sat before the fire talking about the coring Christmas and the Christmas presents, and consulting what to give Douglas. Aunt Earle could not decide; but his mother had made up her mind what her gift should be. She knew the great desire of Douglas's heart was to possess a pair of skates. Since the previous winter, when he had for the first time gone boldly down a long slide, he had talked of nothing else. It was constantly, "Oh, mamma! do you think I shall ever have a pair of skates ? Oh, dear! wouldn't it be nice to learn to skate?" Well, on Christmas Day Douglas was raised to a pinnacle of happiness by becoming the possessor of a paint-box from Aunt Earle and a pair of the most beautiful skates from mamma. Douglas said there was not another pair like them in the world. Certainly they were very gorgeous with bright steel and red paint. From Christmas Day almost all Douglas's remarks were about the weather. Mamma, do you think it will freeze to-day? do you think it will freeze tomorrow? As ill luck would have it, that Christmas was a dull, drizzily, rainy time, and Douglas felt it most keenly, and said dolefully, that he was sure there would be no frost that year. However, all unexpectedly one January morning, when "getting up" time arrived and the curtain was drawn back, the window-ob, delightful sight!—was covered with fantastic frosty shapes. Skates naturally presented themselves before anything else to his mind; and tears of disappointment stood in his eyes when his mother said the ice would not be strong enough yet. This was a trial both unexpected and dreadful to bear, therefore Douglas made each member of the household share in it, for seldom had he been so troublesome and difficult to manage. Three days of hard frost, however, considerably changed the aspect of things both indoors and out; and Douglas, his mother, and aunt, all set out for a large pond not far from their house, Douglas's round face in one broad grin with delight as he marched on in front, the skates hung over his arm. Arrived at the big pond, he felt a great satisfaction at observing that there would be no spectators of his first attempts at skating. "Now, Douglas, sit down and put your skates on," said old Aunt Earle. He wished he had the faintest idea which was the way to do it, but was altogether ashamed to ask. "Let me see if I can help you," said his mother. Douglas sat down, and presently he and his mother together got into such difficulties over the matter that they began to despair, she knowing no more about it than he did. Luckily, the village carpenter was just then seen coming along the road, and Douglas lost no time in calling out at the top his voice, "Oh, Williams! do come and put these skates on for me." of When Williams came up he first looked at the DOUGLAS'S DOINGS. skates, then with a gimlet he took out of the bag he was carrying, he began boring a hole in the heel of Douglas's boot. 351 felt just as funny now without skates as his feet had at first felt in them. Dinner was barely over when he began, "Now, "Oh, Williams! oh, I say! you are not going to mamma dear, may I go and skate ?" screw that thing into my foot, you know!" All right, sir." And he took up each bright new skate and fitted it on, strapping them both round foot and ankle, and helped Douglas to his feet. He valiantly tried to stand on them, but they seemed now somehow not to be his own; he clung to Williams with the grasp of a drowning creature. "I can't stand, Williams, it's no good trying— and that dreadful nail has gone right through my foot. I don't think skating is at all a nice thing. Williams, don't you leave go!" “I must, sir! I must be going to my work, I am very late as it is, but I'll take you once round the pond first. Try and hold up steady, sir." But Douglas kept jerking about, first forwards, then backwards. Although his feet were on the ground, they seemed to be bewitched, going every way at once, without the least consulting their owner. "Now, sir, I really must go." "Please don't, Williams." "I really must." This was a trying moment for Douglas, and he called out, "Mamma! I shan't skate any more. I have had enough for to-day." "Why, you haven't begun yet, sir." "You must get Jane to go with you, because I am busy; and Jane has not had her dinner yet." "Jane! Jane!" he called out; "how long will you be over your dinner?" "About half an hour, Master Douglas." "Half an hour! oh, Jane! oh, mamma! What shall I do?" "Come and read," said his aunt; "here is such a pretty book." Douglas turned over the pages of the pretty book, and thought it the driest, most stupid-looking book he had seen for a long time. "Aunt, is it half an hour yet?" "No, only ten minutes." 'Oh, dear! what is to be done?" But half an hour did at length pass, and away went Douglas, Jane, and skates. It was beginning to get dusk before they made their appearance at home again; and the diningroom door burst open, and in rushed Douglas"Mamma-mamma!" but at this moment he came tumbling over the footstool, he had not seen in his eager haste, and he lay sprawling on the floor; but before she could move, he was up again, with, "I've enjoyed myself so immensely, mamma!" and his "Give him a shove, Williams, and he will go on tongue ran on so fast that no one else could get nicely," said Aunt Earle. "Dear Williams, don't," whispered Douglas; "I don't know what would become of me if you did." At this moment Williams managed to free himself from Douglas's grasp, and, seizing his bag, he hurried off. Douglas gave a slight movement to his body, and found himself flying gloriously to the middle of the pond, where, quicker than ever before, he came sitting down. He tried to regain his feet, but always came down again, his legs flying every way but the one intended. At this moment, when disappointment and despair were setting in, some boys and girls were seen coming towards them; and as all the village children were known to Mrs. Earle, she called two boys to come and help Douglas. A hand on either side, Douglas was once more on his feet, and dragged round the pond. He began to get less alarmed at his own performances, and gradually to discover he could steady his own feet while being dragged about. He was getting on famously, not caring a bit for the tumbles he met with. All this while his mother and aunt were trotting up and down to keep their feet warm; though feeling it cold, not liking to take Douglas away from his long-waited-for pleasure. But dinner-time came, and Douglas must go home, so, sitting on the bank, the boys pulled off his skates, and promised to be there to help him after dinner. Donglas declared he in a word. All tea-time and throughout the evening he chattered away, having evidently come to the conclusion that skating was the most delightful thing under the sun. After Douglas had gone to bed, Miss Earle stumbled and nearly fell over something lying on the diningroom floor. It was a pair of skates. "He really must learn to put his things away," both mother and aunt decided. So the next morning, after his lessons, when he was just setting off to skate, his mother told him of how Aunt Earle had hurt her foot, and nearly fallen over his skates, which he had again forgotten to put away. "You always leave your things about," she said; so Aunt Earle and I have made up our minds to take away, from to-day on, whatever we find about of yours downstairs after you have gone to bed." This considerably sobered his spirits, as he started off to skate, and for a wonder left impression enough to make him remember to hang up his skates when he came home. His mother smiled approvingly at him when she saw the skates hanging up, and Douglas felt as if he should never again forget them. Neither did he for three whole days; not only were the skates remembered, but not a thing of Douglas's was to be seen about down-stairs after he had gone to bed. But one Monday night when he was in bed, and just as he was getting warm and sleepy, a sudden thought made him feel cold all over. He had forgotten to put his skates away! He remembered having thrown them on the halltable when he came in, and had not touched them since. What should he do? Certainly such a dreadful thing had never before happened to a little boy, he thought; and as he became very wide awake, he lay and considered, and then listened. "Oh, mamma! how? I will do anything in the The door of his bedroom was ajar, and he heard world to win them back;" and the tears stopped his mamma playing and singing in the drawing-running down the round cheeks as he looked eagerly room; besides this, all was quiet, and no one stirring up. in the house. Douglas crept out of his little warm bed, and stole along the dark room, and pushing the door wider open, he went out, and peeped over the banisters into the hall below. There lay the dear skates on the table, the lamp shining brightly on their polished steel. He listened again, but the sound of his mother's voice singing was the only thing to be heard, and cautiously he stole down-stairs. There were three dreadful stairs which creaked, which he had never before particularly remarked, and which frightened him very much now; but on he went bravely down to the oil-cloth, which struck cold to the little bare feet, up to the hall-table, and the skates were tightly grasped. Back he rushed with them, and up the stairs as fast as he could go, when the piano ceased, and almost at the same moment down on to the stairs fell one skate with a horrible crash! The drawing-room door opened quickly, but before it was open, the skate had been picked up, and the ridiculous little white figure had made its way up the stairs, through the dark room, and into bed went Douglas and the skates with a bound. Mrs. and Miss Earle stood listening at the drawingroom door, and Mrs. Earle, with a lamp, came up into Douglas's room. All was safe and quiet, Douglas lay in his cosy little bed, nothing apparently stirring. Mrs. Earle decided that it must have been some sound from the kitchen, and went down again, and Douglas fell asleep, tightly grasping his skates. On Wednesday night, just as Mrs. and Miss Earle were going to bed, Miss Earle discovered, lying on a chair just inside the dining-room, a pretty little pair of skates. The next morning Douglas was very weary and impatient over his lessons, longing to get out and go to his delightful skating-ground. His copy-book was blotted, his sums would not come right. At length all were properly finished, and Douglas, singing and dancing, rushed for his skates. Where could they be? He searched everywhere, but they were nowhere to be seen. "Aunt, have you seen my skates ?" No answer. "Well, if you do not leave about one single thing after you have gone to bed for a whole week, you shall have them back." "Oh, thank you, dear mamma! won't I take care this time!" And Douglas faithfully kept his word, so careful was he that he would not allow any of his possessions from his big cupboard to come down-stairs, for fear he should forget to put them away. At length Wednesday came round again, the day he was to have back his skates, and waking up in the morning, there lay the skates beside the bed; but, oh! sad to relate, bringing with them a sudden and complete thaw. But the next morning astonished everybody by as sudden a frost as was the thaw of the day before. The ice, therefore, was in better condition than ever, and Douglas was in raptures; and for many days the skating went on uninterruptedly, and Douglas never once left his skates about; and although he is not quite cured of his careless forgetfulness, he is very much improved, and on a fair way towards it. J. H. "THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. 163. God made great promises to an Old Testament saint, but he was so absorbed in one temporal wish, that he failed to see the full meaning of the offered blessing. 164. Where is the first mention of "the angel of the Lord ?" 165. The first person who prophesied. 166. One who saved a prophet from death by starvation. 167. Who loved her mother, but loved herself better still? ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON PAGE 319. 151. Gen. xli. 42. Dan. v. 29. 152. 1 Sam, vii. 17. 153. 1 Chron. vii. 21. 154. 1 Kings xxii. 4, and 2 Kings iii. 7. 155. 2 Chron, viii. 11. 156. 2 Kings xi. 3. 157. Luke x. 21. "A CHAPTER LX.-"IS SHE NEVER TO BE FORGIVEN?" ND so, Ethel, when Jack came in sight of the It was the servant with a card. "I do not know the gentleman," said Adela, as "Hush, papa," said Adela, laughing "some one she scanned the name on the card. "Papa, the Rev. is at the door." Reuben Howard." VOL. V. 234 |