Mr. Andrews placed his hand on the orphan's bowed head.

"Miss Earl, you must let me tell you that I look upon you as a member of my family; that my wife and I love you almost as well as if you were one of our children; and I hope you will not refuse to accompany Kate on the tour she contemplates. Let me take your own father's place; and I shall regard it as a great favor to me and mine if you will consent to go, and allow me to treat you always as I do my Hattie. I have no doubt you will derive as much benefit from travelling, as I certainly hope for Felix."

"Thank you, Mr. Andrews, I appreciate your generosity, and I prize the affection and confidence which you and your wife have shown me.

I came, an utter stranger, into your house, and you kindly made me one of the family circle. I am alone in the world, and have become strongly attached to your children. Felix is not merely my dear pupil, he is my brother, my companion, my little darling! I can not be separated from him. Next to his mother he belongs to me. Oh! I will travel with him anywhere that you and Mrs. Andrews think it best he should go. I will never, never leave him."

She disengaged the boy's arms, laid him back on his pillows, and went to her own room.

In the midst of prompt preparations for departure Edna's new novel appeared. She had christened it "SHINING THORNS ON THE HEARTH," and dedicated it "To my countrywomen, the Queens who reign thereon."

The aim of the book was to discover the only true and allowable and womanly sphere of feminine work, and, though the theme was threadbare, she fearlessly picked up the frayed woof and rewove it.

The tendency of the age was to equality and communism, and this, she contended, was undermining the golden thrones shining in the blessed and hallowed light of the hearth, whence every true woman ruled the realm of her own family. Regarding every pseudo "reform" which struck down the social and political distinction of the s.e.xes, as a blow that crushed one of the pillars of woman's throne, she earnestly warned the Crowned Heads of the danger to be apprehended from the unfortunate and deluded female malcontents, who, dethroned in their own realm, and despised by their quondam subjects, roamed as pitiable, royal exiles, threatening to usurp man's kingdom; and to proud, happy mothers, guarded by Praetorian bands of children, she reiterated the a.s.surance that

"Those who rock the cradle rule the world."

Most carefully she sifted the records of history, tracing in every epoch the sovereigns of the hearth-throne who had reigned wisely and contentedly, enn.o.bling and refining humanity; and she proved by ill.u.s.trious examples that the borders of the feminine realm could not be enlarged, without rendering the throne unsteady, and subverting G.o.d's law of order. Woman reigned by divine right only at home. If married, in the hearts of husband and children, and not in the gilded, bedizened palace of fashion, where thinly veiled vice and frivolity hold carnival, and social upas and social asps wave and trail. If single, in the affections of brothers and sisters and friends, as the golden sceptre in the hands of parents. If orphaned, she should find sympathy and grat.i.tude and usefulness among the poor and the afflicted.

Consulting the statistics of single women, and familiarizing herself with the arguments advanced by the advocates of that "progress,"

which would indiscriminately throw open all professions to women, she entreated the poor of her own s.e.x, if ambitious, to become sculptors, painters, writers, teachers in schools or families; or else to remain mantau-makers, milliners, spinners, dairymaids; but on the peril of all womanhood not to meddle with scalpel or red tape, and to shun rostra of all description, remembering St. Paul's injunction, that "IT IS NOT PERMITTED UNTO WOMEN TO SPEAK"; and even that "IT IS A SHAME FOR WOMEN TO SPEAK IN THE CHURCH."

To married women who thirsted for a draught of the turbid waters of politics, she said: "If you really desire to serve the government under which you live, recollect that it was neither the speeches thundered from the forum, nor the prayers of priests and augurs, nor the iron tramp of glittering legions, but the ever triumphant, maternal influence, the potent, the pleading 'My son!' of Volumnia, the mother of Coriola.n.u.s, that saved Rome."

To discontented spinsters, who travelled like Pandora over the land, haranguing audiences that secretly laughed at and despised them, to these unfortunate women, clamoring for power and influence in the national councils, she pointed out that quiet, happy home at "Barley Wood," whence immortal Hannah More sent forth those writings which did more to tranquilize England, and bar the hearts of its yeomanry against the temptations of red republicanism than all the eloquence of Burke, and the cautious measures of Parliament.

Some errors of style, which had been pointed out by critics as marring her earlier writings, Edna had endeavored to avoid in this book, which she humbly offered to her countrywomen as the best of which she was capable.

From the day of its appearance it was a success; and she had the gratification of hearing that some of the seed she had sown broadcast in the land fell upon good ground, and promised an abundant harvest.

Many who called to bid her good-bye on the day before the steamer sailed, found it impossible to disguise their apprehensions that she would never return; and some who looked tearfully into her face and whispered "G.o.d-speed!" thought they saw the dread signet of death set on her white brow.

To Edna it was inexpressibly painful to cross the Atlantic while Mr.

Hammond's health was so feeble; and over the long farewell letter which she sent him, with a copy of her new book, the old man wept.

Mrs. Murray had seemed entirely estranged since that last day spent at Le Bocage, and had not written a line since the orphan's return to New York. But when she received the new novel, and the affectionate, mournful, meek note that accompanied it, Mrs. Murray laid her head on her son's bosom and sobbed aloud.

Dr. Howell and Mr. Manning went with Edna aboard the steamer, and both laughed heartily at her efforts to disengage herself from a pertinacious young book-vender, who, with his arms full of copies of her own book, stopped her on deck, and volubly extolled its merits, insisting that she should buy one to while away the tedium of the voyage.

Dr. Howell gave final directions concerning the treatment of Felix, and then came to speak to the governess.

"Even now, sadly as you have abused your const.i.tution, I shall have some hope of seeing gray hairs about your temples, if you will give yourself unreservedly to relaxation of mind. You have already accomplished so much that you can certainly afford to rest for some months at least. Read nothing, write nothing (except long letters to me), study nothing but the aspects of nature in European scenery, and you will come back improved to the country that is so justly proud of you. Disobey my injunctions, and I shall soon be called to mourn over the announcement that you have found an early grave, far from your native land, and among total strangers. G.o.d bless you, dear child! and bring you safely back to us."

As he turned away, Mr. Manning took her hand and said:

"I hope to meet you in Rome early in February; but something might occur to veto my programme. If I should never see you again in this world, is there anything that you wish to say to me now?"

"Yes, Mr. Manning. If I should die in Europe, have my body brought back to America and carried to the South--my own dear South, that I love so well--and bury me close to Grandpa, where I can sleep quietly in the cool shadow of old Lookout; and be sure, please be sure, to have my name carved just below Grandpa's, on his monument.

I want that one marble to stand for us both."

"I will. Is there nothing else?"

"Thank you, my dear, good, kind friend. Nothing else."

"Edna, promise me that you will take care of your precious life."

"I will try, Mr. Manning."

He looked down into her worn, weary face and sighed, then for the first time he took both her hands, kissed them and left her.

Swiftly the steamer took its way seaward; through the Narrows, past the lighthouse; and the wind sang through the rigging, and the purple hills of Jersey faded from view, proving Neversink a misnomer.

One by one the pa.s.sengers went below and Edna and Felix were left on deck, with stars burning above, and blue waves bounding beneath them.

As the cripple sat looking over the solemn, moaning ocean, awed by its brooding gloom, did he catch in the silvery starlight a second glimpse of the rose-colored veils, and snowy vittae, and purple- edged robes of the Parcae, spinning and singing as they followed the ship across the sobbing sea? He shivered, and clasping tightly the hand of his governess, said:

"Edna, we shall never see the Neversink again."

"G.o.d only knows, dear Felix. His will be done."

"How silvery the echoes run-- Thy will be done--Thy will be done."

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

"Worthy? No, no! Unworthy! most unworthy! But was Thomas worthy to tend the wandering sheep of Him, whom face to face he doubted? Was Peter worthy to preach the Gospel of Him, whom he had thrice indignantly denied? Was Paul worthy to become the Apostle of the Gentiles, teaching the doctrine of Him whose disciples he had persecuted and slaughtered? If the repentance of Peter and Paul availed to purify their hands and hearts, and sanctify them to the service of Christ, ah! G.o.d knows my contrition has been bitter and lasting enough to fit me for future usefulness. Eight months ago, when the desire to become a minister seized me so tenaciously, I wrestled with it, tried to crush it; arguing that the knowledge of my past life of sinfulness would prevent the world from trusting my professions. But those who even slightly understand my character, must know that I have always been too utterly indifferent to, too unfortunately contemptuous of public opinion, to stoop to any deception in order to conciliate it. Moreover, the world will realize that in a mere worldly point of view, I can possibly hope to gain nothing by this step. If I were poor, I might be accused of wanting the loaves and fishes of the profession; if unknown and ambitious, of seeking eminence and popularity. But when a man of my wealth and social position, after spending half of his life in luxurious ease and sinful indulgence, voluntarily subjects himself to the rigid abstemiousness and self-sacrificing requirements of a ministerial career, he can not be suspected of hypocrisy. After all, sir, I care not for the discussion, of nine days' gossip and wonder, the gibes and comments my course may occasion. I am hearkening to the counsel of my conscience; I am obeying the dictates of my heart.

Feeling that my G.o.d accepts me, it matters little that men may reject me. My remorse, my repentance, has been inexpressibly bitter; but the darkness has pa.s.sed away, and to-day, thank G.o.d! I can pray with all the fervor and faith of my boyhood, when I knew that I was at peace with my Maker. Oblivion of the past I do not expect, and perhaps should not desire. I shall always wear my melancholy memories of sin, as Musselmen wear their turban or pall--as a continual memento of death. Because I have proved so fully the inadequacy of earthly enjoyments to satisfy the demands of a soul; because I tried the alluring pleasures of sin, and was satiated, ah!

utterly sickened, I turned with panting eagerness to the cool, quiet peace which reigns over the life of a true Christian pastor. I want neither fame nor popularity, but peace! peace I must have! I have hunted the world over and over; I have sought it everywhere else, and now, thank G.o.d! I feel that it is descending slowly, slowly, but surely, upon my lonely, long-tortured heart. Thank G.o.d! I have found peace after much strife and great weariness--"

Mr. Murray could no longer control his voice; and as he stood leaning against the mantelpiece at the parsonage, he dropped his head on his hand.

"St. Elmo, the purity of your motives will never be questioned, for none who knows you could believe you capable of dissembling in this matter; and my heart can scarcely contain its joy when I look forward to your future, so bright with promise, so full of usefulness. The marked change in your manner during the past two years has prepared this community for the important step you are to take to-day, and your influence with young men will be incalculable.

Once your stern bitterness rendered you an object of dread; now I find that you are respected, and people here watch your conduct with interest, and even with anxiety. Ah, St. Elmo, I never imagined earth held as much pure happiness as is my portion to-day. To see you one of G.o.d's anointed! To see you ministering in the temple! Oh!

to know that when I am gone to rest you will take my place, guard my flock, do your own work and poor Murray's, and finish mine! This, this is indeed the crowning blessing of my old age."

For some minutes, Mr. Hammond sobbed; and lifting his face, Mr.

Murray answered:

"As I think of the coming years consecrated to Christ, pa.s.sed peacefully in endeavoring to atone for the injury and suffering I have inflicted on my fellow-creatures; oh! as the picture of a calm, useful, holy future rises before me, I feel indeed that I am unworthy, most unworthy of my peace; but, thank G.o.d!

'Oh! I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath not set; Ancient founts of inspiration well through all my fancy yet.'"

It was a beautiful Sabbath morning, just one year after Edna's departure, and the church was crowded to its utmost capacity, for people had come for many miles around to witness a ceremony, the announcement of which had given rise to universal comment. As the hour approached for the ordination of St. Elmo Murray to the ministry of Jesus Christ, even the doors were filled with curious spectators; and when Mr. Hammond and St. Elmo walked down the aisle, and the old man seated himself in a chair within the altar, there was a general stir in the congregation.

The officiating minister had come from a distant city to perform a ceremony of more than usual interest; and when he stood up in the pulpit, and the organ thundered through the arches, St. Elmo bowed his head on his hand, and sat thus during the hour that ensued.

The ordination sermon was solemn and eloquent, and preached from the text in Romans: