Quietly taking the handle of the carriage he said gravely, "Cousin Cora, I fear you will despise me for what I am going to say, but I can't help it. I sha'n't feel right until I've made a clean breast of it."

As I looked inquiringly, but made no reply he went on, "I deceived you this morning by allowing you to suppose that I was so careful to redeem my promise to Pauline, that I denied myself the pleasure of an excursion upon the lake. Now, I suppose if I had felt inclined to go, I should not have hesitated a moment on that account. But to tell you the truth, I was heartily glad of an excuse."

"But why? I should have supposed that you of all others would have entered into such a frolic."

For a few moments he made no reply, and we reached the door. He intimated that he would like to go the round again; and putting my arm in his, we walked silently on, as master Walter was soundly sleeping.

"Cora," said he at length, "for a few days I have been more miserable than I can tell you. I want to begin life anew; but I don't know how.

All connected with this dear family are usefully and happily employed while I have only lived heretofore to please myself. Though I resolve, and _re_-resolve, I am no better. Even little Pauline has a principle and strength within her to which I am a stranger. Can't you help me, Cora?"

I had never seen Joseph so earnest, and I lifted up my heart for wisdom to direct me, that I might speak a "word in season." I then endeavored in my feeble, imperfect way, to direct my inquiring cousin to the fountain of all strength. I told him while he depended upon himself to keep the resolutions, he formed, he would necessarily fail. But aware as he expressed himself to be of his inability to help himself, if he would humbly and earnestly beseech G.o.d for Christ's sake to help him, G.o.d would certainly answer his prayer.

"I have tried to pray," he replied, much agitated. "I have always been taught to repeat prayers, but last night I could not sleep, and I got up and tried to pray, but I found no answer. Nothing a.s.sured me that I was heard."

"Do not despair, dear cousin. Pray again. I wish you would talk with the Doctor. He would direct you so much better than I can." This, I said, as I saw Frank approaching, having looked in vain through the house for us.

"As you please," he replied with a deep sigh, "but I fear it will do no good." I left him with the carriage, and approaching my husband told him in a few words the substance of our conversation, and requested him to invite Joseph to the library. I then ran forward to call Ann to take Walter up to his crib.

Joseph looked very much embarra.s.sed for a moment; but I knew the Doctor would deal very tenderly with him, and at the same time that he would go to the root of the matter, and I antic.i.p.ated much good from the interview.

Frank came to my room but for a moment, before he rode away. I saw that the time had not pa.s.sed without strong emotion on his part. I have as yet had no opportunity to ask him about it.

_Monday, March 27th._

Yesterday I was glad to notice the unusual solemnity of Joseph's manner at church. He is a dear, n.o.ble-hearted fellow, and I cannot but hope the prayers of his pious parents in his behalf will be answered. I must confess, I have sometimes thought they were too indulgent in their training, and allowed him altogether too much money. Considering how entirely he has been for many years his own master, and how much he has been petted at home, I think he is wonderfully free from faults, especially from that selfishness, prodigality, and disregard of the wishes of others which is too often the result of such training.

_Tuesday, April 4th._

Our dear cousin Joseph has this morning left us. I trust his visit here will be of permanent use to him. He expressed his determination to enter at once into some useful employment, saying be had idled away quite too many years of his life. I was struck with the difference between Pauline and Walter in expressing their sorrow at his leaving. The latter screamed as loud as his lungs would allow, and would hardly leave his cousin to come to me. Pauline with a tearful eye, and flushed cheek, stood quietly by until he kissed her farewell, when her lip quivered, but she made no noisy demonstration of her sorrow. I saw that this silent grief went straight to Joseph's heart. He turned back, pressed her tightly in his arms for a moment, said something to her in a low voice and was gone.

CHAPTER XX.

"The feeling of a parent never dies But with our moral nature; all in vain.

The wretch by cold and cruel spurning tries To change that love to hate." PERCIVAL.

_Afternoon._

Emily received to-day a hastily written note from Lucy Lee, requesting her to call as soon as possible. I long to know what has happened. The Doctor visits the old gentleman once in a few weeks. Perhaps I have not told you that he has several times met Allen there. I am afraid Joseph has come home, and found out that he has renewed his visits.

_Wednesday, April 5th._

I was entirely wrong in my fears about Lucy. She had received a letter from a physician in the city who was called to Joseph, and who says he is now so ill, that he deemed it advisable to notify his family. Lucy inferred from the account, which was rather guarded, that it was an attack of the delirium tremens, brought on by his late excesses, hastened perhaps by the fact of his leaving home the last week extremely angry because his father refused to advance him any more money. Joseph ascribed it to Lucy's influence over the old man, and vowed revenge.

The forgiving sister no sooner heard of the dangerous illness of her brother, than she wished to go to him. She could not endure the thought of his being left alone in his sickness. Emily encouraged her to go at once, and offered to remain with her father, to which her friend gratefully acceded.

The Doctor whom they consulted, advised them to tell the Squire frankly where she was going, as if it resulted as they feared, he must then be told.

During the long, _long_ months of his confinement, Frank had observed a gradual softening of the old gentleman's feelings, not only toward his daughter, but upon religious subjects. He thinks that the daily reading of the Scriptures by Lucy and also witnessing in her every-day life the religion of Jesus so beautifully exemplified, has produced a good effect on the heart so long hard and obdurate. Frank readily undertook to prepare his patient for the temporary absence of his daughter, while Emily a.s.sisted her in making arrangements for her immediate departure.

Nor was the Doctor disappointed. Squire Lee was indeed shocked at the dangerous condition of his son and heir; but he instantly sent for Lucy, and desired her to consult her own feelings and sense of duty relative to joining him. She took a most affectionate leave of her father, whose sorrow at parting with her might seem uncalled for, were it not remembered that the dear girl had been for a long time his sole companion, his nurse, daughter, friend and comforter. Her couch occupies a room where she is within the sound of his voice; and it is not at all unusual for her to arise at midnight to administer to him or to read a few soothing words to allay the restlessness which is almost invariably an accompaniment of a complaint like his.

_Thursday, April 6th._

Mother will remain with me during Emily's absence. Pauline continues to gain in health and strength. I was very much affected last night at her tenderness of feeling. She was kneeling by my side to say her prayers before retiring, when all at once she stopped and began to sob.

"My dear little daughter, why do you cry?"

"Dear Mamma," she replied, still sobbing, "my cousin told me when he was going away, that I must pray every night, that G.o.d would help him to become a good man; and when I was going to ask G.o.d, I remembered that Joseph had gone, and it made me cry." She looked very earnestly at me as she inquired, "Isn't my cousin good, mamma?"

"I hope he is, my love," I answered, as I thought of his parting request to the dear child.

I was making a few purchases in the village this morning, when I felt some one slightly pulling my dress. I turned around and saw the sweet face of Anna Reynolds, lighted up with such a joyous expression, that it sent a warm gush of feeling through my heart.

"Please, Mrs. Lenox, excuse me," said she in a low tone and with far more than all the grace of a lady of the court. "I saw you here, and I desired to tell you how very happy we all are at home. My father has come back;" and she reached up to whisper, "he never drinks rum now, and we all go to church together. Mother says, who knows but Willie and I may live in Rose Cottage yet? You know that was once our home."

I requested her to wait a moment while I paid for my purchases, and then I took her hand and walked part of the way with her.

From her simple story, I learned in addition to what I already knew, that through the kindness of Thomas Jones, her father had procured steady employment for the summer with a farmer in the neighborhood, where he was entirely free from temptation. I warmly sympathized with Anna's delight at having a father. She had never before known the happiness.

I came home and told Frank the good news of the happiness of the Reynolds family. When I informed him that Thomas Jones had procured him work away from temptation, and had given him a whole suit of clothes so that he could go to meeting, he was very busy reading; but he looked up in a minute as if he had heard all, and with a queer look, said he was glad I knew how to rejoice with those that rejoiced, as well as to weep with those that weep.

_Sat.u.r.day, April 8th._

Lucy Lee returned rather unexpectedly last evening. Her brother Joseph did not know her; and the physician thought it not safe for her to be there. To say the least, it was exceedingly unpleasant to the dear girl.

There were no women to be seen in the establishment. It required the strength of two men to manage him during his fits of frenzy. Lucy wept as she confessed she could have submitted to every inconvenience to be with him, were it not for his horribly profane and lewd conversation. He seemed living over again midnight scenes of debauchery. "Oh! _Oh!!_"

exclaimed the poor weeping girl, "I never imagined anything half so awful." She only saw her brother twice, once on the morning and again in the afternoon of the day of her arrival. She said, even the attendants who were used to such scenes, confessed that they had never witnessed one half so bad.

Emily came home early this morning, and has interested us much in her account of Squire Lee. She says, it is hard for her to realize that he is the same man who so cruelly spurned his innocent, trembling daughter from his feet, so lovingly does he now speak to her.

At the usual hour for him to hear reading, Emily brought out the Bible and began the story of Christ's sufferings and death. Chapter after chapter was called for and listened to with breathless interest. When Emily closed the book, he looked around as if missing something, and sister saw his eye rest on a book of prayer. She arose and brought it to him, not exactly understanding what was expected. He shook his head.

"Would you like to hear a prayer?" He bowed his a.s.sent, and turning to the prayer for the day of the week, and kneeling near him, she read aloud.

His right hand supported his head, and when sister arose, the tears were trickling through his fingers and down upon his cheeks. Several times, she heard him say, "poor Joseph, soul and body--lost by rum--G.o.d forgive me." Many similar expressions fell from his lips.

Allen came in every day during Lucy's absence, and Emily thought that the old gentleman received pleasure from his visits. He was a great a.s.sistance to her in changing the position of the sufferer, whose left side is so paralyzed as to render it impossible for him to raise himself from the easy chair in which he sits.

One incident which occurred I must not omit. Squire Lee made a remark to which Emily naturally replied, "from what I remember of Mrs. Lee, Lucy very much resembles her mother."