Charity. A tale. By the author of 'Angelo Sanmartino.'

Chapter I

The sound of Sunday bells was floating on the air one fine May morning near the pleasant town of Winterford, when Mrs. Leslie, a widow lady, and her grand-children came forth from a hand some, red brick, old fashioned country mansion, which from the surrounding woods took he name of Grove House Secluded in a nest of verdure, it was one of those substantial yet tasteful dwellings, which make the passer by say: 44 Happy those whose home is here !" And he might say so of Grove House, at the time of which we are speaking, and not mistake, as often happens when we judge of that within by that which shews without. B charity. Mrs. Leslie came down the stone steps with her young family about her, like a hen in the midst of her brood. Mary, Alice, and Oliver, the children of Mrs. Leslie's late son, turned to the left, and took their way7 towards the venerable Cathedral, which is the boast and ornament of Winterford, while Mark, the son of Mrs. Leslie's daughter, turned with his grand-mother to the right, and followed a path leading through an adjoining meadow to a pretty Catholic chapel.

Here the Abbe Moreau, an old French Priest, ministered to a small flock of his persuasion, residing in the neighbourhood of Winterford. This chapel had been restored and beautified by Mr. Austin Vernon, from whom Mrs. Leslie, his only child, inherited the surrounding pro perty. , Miss Vernon, afterwards Mrs. Leslie, born of a Catholic family, remained faithful to her church, although she married a Protestant. This worthy couple, as often happened of yore, lived in love and harmony, although following their respective forms of worship, and by a mutual agreement, CHARITY. frequent in such cases, the sons were educated Protestants, the daughters Catholics. Of the children born of this marriage, one son and one daughter grew up. The son married a Protestant lady, and, still young, died a widower, leaving to his mother the care of bis children.

In his will was a clause begging they might be educated Protestants, and Mrs. Leslie conscientiously fulfilled a behest which she regarded as sacred. The daughter married Mr. Bevan, a Catholic gentleman; she died in giving birth to Mark, her first child, whose father did not long survive, and the education of the orphan having devolved entirely on his maternal grand-mother, she brought him up in her own faith, which had been that of his parents. Mrs. Leslie was slowly recovering from the double bereavement of son and daughter, when she was again crushed by the blow which made her a widow. It was well for her that she felt all she owed to her infant charges, for to a conscientious mind a stringent duty is a stay under severe trial, a consolation under grief. CHARITY. Time and well directed exertion did their work, and brought first resignation and then comfort.

A few years later Mrs. Leslie, we may say, was content, nay happy, in the midst of a fine promis ing gleeful progeny of grand-children. See her as she sits on this Sunday afternoon, the presiding spirit, in the pleasant wainscotted parlour, where, returning from the church and chapel, the family surround the dinner-table. In her features mingle the traces of former sorrows with the expression of present peace and cheer fulness, as on her brow mix silver threads with the smooth brown hair. On her right is her darling Mark, with his in tellectual brow, expressive hazel eyes and feeling mouth ; the image of his mother, Mrs. Leslie always said. Next to him sits his cousin Mary, whose silvery laugh and quick roguish glance play like a sun beam on all around. Small and slight of stature, yet very regal in her carriage, she is often called (^ueen Mab ; and when she declares her will with a certain expression of her rosy mouth and turn of her pretty head, all know that they must obey the fairy mandate.

She likes her own way and has it. CHARITY. Opposite is Alice, the younger sister, taller but not nearly so striking. She is the happiest, kindest, creature in the world, always getting one or other out of trouble ; the general friend, confidante and adviser, ready at any time to act second part. By her side is Oliver, brother of the two girls, a red-haired warm-hearted boy for ever getting in and out of a passion, then begging pardon and shaking hands with all his might and main. To complete the picture we must not forget, opposite to Mrs. Leslie, at the other end of the table, the Abbe Moreau, an old French Priest, regularly a guest at Grove House on Sunday and often in the course of the week. His tall slightly stooping figure, his white locks and small black skull cap, his gentle eyes and benevolent mouth offer the type of a venerable Priest.

How kindly he looks and smiles on all the circle, not less affectionately on Oliver and his sisters, though they are brought up out of the pale of his church, and no branch of their teach ing is confided to him, than on Mark who has been not only his catechumen, but his pupil for several years previous to going to school. The Abbe Moreau has been Chaplain of Grove CHARITY. Chapel for twenty years. He lately heard, through an old friend, of the death of a sister his last surviving relative, and he is now summoned to France to take possession of the small inheri tance she has bequeathed to him. The same cor respondent mentioned a modest vicarship at present vacant near the Abbe's native town, and in gift of the Bishop of the diocese, his old school-fellow. Would Monsieur Moreau become candidate for the vicarage of St. Pol ?

The Priest thanked his friend but declined the proposal. This was the last Sunday before the Abbe's departure to settle his business in France. Mark and Oliver were at the time come home for the holidays. Happy those holidays at the Grove ! In summer such nice canters on the ponies, such pleasant rambles in the woods, such boating, such haj-making, such cricketing ! In winter such skating, such dancing of reels, such duets and glees over the piano, such delightful novels round the blazing fire ! While with all this joyousness mingled some times wise influences or serious thought, not the CHARITY. less effective that they came not always in the shape of a lesson, but stole over the mind as the viewless breeze sounds upon the ear, breathing solemnly at fitful intervals through the branches of the pine woods 44 Abbe," said Mrs. Leslie after dinner, 44 what day have you fixed to set out ?" 44 Wednesday, Madam, and I reckon that I shall be back in six weeks at latest."

" Who knows, that when you are in your own country once more, you may not change your mind and stay there ?" 44 Oh! grand-mamma!" broke like a groaning chorus from the four young people. 41 1 only say what is possible, my children." 44 Not so, I think, dear Madam," replied the Abbe. 44 Read that letter, which I received yes terday," drawing one from his pocket and hand ing it to Mrs. Leslie. 44 When I tell you that I have already sent off a grateful but decided negative, you will judge that I am proof against temptation on this point." Mrs. Leslie read the letter aloud ; it was from the Bishop of to Mousieur Moreau, recall- CHARITY. ing in affectionate terms their school-boy days, and pressing with flattering earnestness his nomi nation to the vicarship of St. Pol. 44 I hate that Bishop," said Oliver abruptly. 44 Oh, Oliver !

So good a man and so kind to me !" exclaimed the Priest. 44 Yes I do, because he wants to take you from us." 44 Well but he will not take me away, and you must not harbour such feelings." 44 Oliver does not mean that he hates any one who loves you, only that he would be dreadfully sorry if you left us not to come back," interposed Alice. 44 That's just it," cried Oliver. 44 1 beg yTour pardon, Monsieur 1'Abbe, it was very wrong to say what I did of a friend of yours. But it would really be too bad if you had to go away. Who would be grand-mamma's best friend ? And who would tell us such nice stories of France and of Napoleon's wars V 44 And who would be my second father ?" said Mark taking the Abbe's hand. 44 Oh! Abbe," exclaimed Mary, 44if you do CHARITY. not come back I shall never forget and never forgive you !" 44 It would be very bad for us," observed Alice, 44 but we ought to wish Monsieur l'Abbe to do what makes him most happy, jtou know." 44 How could I find it in my heart not to return to such clear affectionate young creatures '?" remarked Monsieur Moreau. 4> And yet," said Mrs. Leslie thoughtfully, 44 France may offer you more temptation than you now think ; it is your native land and a Catholic country." 44 It was in France," returned the Abbe, 44 my native land and a Catholic country, that your ex cellent departed husband, dear Mrs. Leslie, found me poor, sick and solitary.

He helped me, nursed me, comforted me, and then, as if asking instead of conferring a favour, he inquired whether I could make up my mind to try a foreign land. He said that although he and his son were Protestants, his lady and daughter were Catholics. Would I be chaplain of Grove Chapel ? Truly he was to me the good Samaritan, and I have lived ever since that time happy, and I may say petted B charity. among a generation of good Samaritans." And his eyes, which glistened as he spoke, rested on the little Leslies. " Aye," observed Mrs. Leslie, " you knew and loved the parents and you love the children." The Abbe went to France, settled his business and was once more at home, in his neat cottage near Grove Chapel, long before Mark and Oliver's Christmas holidays came round. Winter and summer succeeded each other, glid ing softly by for several years, without working in Grove House any but those imperceptible changes which transform the boy into the youth and the youth into the man.

Mark and Oliver left school. Oliver went to college where he prepared for the church ; a friend of his father's had long promised him a living near Winterford. Mark studied the law in London. There was a good opening for him as consulting Barrister in his native town, and he was to under take the direction of his grand-mother's property. Thus the future prospects of the yToung people had still Grove House for centre, and more fortu- CHARITY. nate than many ; Mrs. Leslie was not to see her brood scatter far and wide when they entered life. This family, united by a remarkably strong bond of mutual affection and confidence, lived in harmony, and loved each other none the less that some were Protestants and some were Catholics. The spirit of Christian charity was in the hearts of all. This holy light shone upon the peaceful household, till suddenly obscured by a spirit of religious dissension which arose in Grove House like a storm blast.

Oliver was the first who clouded the calm sun shine of his home. AVhen he had been a year at the University, a visible change came over him, aud his naturally cheerful open temper, gave way to a gloomy reserve, which his very presence seemed to spread around him. Pursuits and amusements, which, with the rest of his family, he had been accustomed to look upon as innocent or desirable, now appeared to him in the light of sins. His s'sters who followed their accustomed harmlessly cheerful course of life, were so per- CHARITY. petually assailed by his animadversions, that their days became a succession of disputes, or of annoy ing little sacrifices to peace. He brought them shoals of little books, which he insisted that they should read, and terribly irate he became if, as sometimes happened, he found one of the girls sleeping over his favourite volume, or hiding under its open page some other work more interesting to the fair reader.

This sort of interference and restraint went so far that his sisters, instead of enjoying his society as they had been used to do, felt it a relief when he returned to keep his terms, or when, while at home, he went out as often chanced, to attend some religious meeting in the neighbourhood. One Sunday evening Oliver was gone to a Missionary Society. Mrs. Leslie begged the good Abbe Moreau, as she often did when he drank tea at the Grove, to read aloud a French book. He com plied and took up Humbolt's Travels, which he had begun some time before with the young people. Before the Abbe had finished, Oliver returned. He sat down for some time silently in a corner, then suddenly starting up exclaimed : CHARITY. " Monsieur 1' Abbe, if you were not the Minister of a false religion, you would not sin yourself, or set so sinful an example as to indulge in profane reading on a Sabbath evening."

The Abbe laid down his book and stared in silence, but Mrs. Leslie rose much moved ; this was one of the very few times she was ever seen really angry. " Oliver," she said, " this insolence towards my venerable friend, towards my religion, and there fore towards myself, is what I cannot tolerate. Your grand-father, a sincere Protestant, ruled his household twenty-five years, and never disap proved of such innocent recreation as this, which you have thought fit so unbecomingly to interrupt. Now interference, which I never met with from my respected husband, I will not endure from a grand-son." 4'I am sorry if I anger you grand-mother," replied Oliver, " but I owe the truth to all here. It is a bad sign when truth is an offence. Good night." So saying he took up his candle and retired to bed, leaving the remainder of the com pany in a state of uncomfortable discomposure, CHARITY. from which they sought refuge by speedily separating for the night.

Next morning early, Alice from her window saw Oliver walking in the garden, looking rather disconsolate. She dressed quickly and went down to join him. They had paced the gravel walk three times, before Oliver con fessed that he was very sorry for having been too hasty in his expressions the preceeding evening, and a few minutes afterwards, the bro ther and sister were running across the meadow, that separated Grove House from Monsieur Moreau's neat cottage. As they approached, they saw the Abbe sitting near a table at the open window of his parlour. He smiled bene volently as Oliver rushed in to beg pardon over and over again for his late impropriety. " My dear Oliver, you are a brave garcon, (under strong emotion his native tongue would come back upon the old Priest) only you have the blood a little boiling, that is a defect of youth which time will temper.

But you have the right stuff at bottom. We shall always be good friends ; je cb'fie any one not to be so with you." CHARITY. Having shaken hands vehemently with the Abbe, Oliver flew back home just in time to half squeeze his grand-mother to death, when she came down to breakfast, imploring her for giveness, with promises never to offend in like manner again. He received his pardon with a tender kiss and something very like a tear on his cheek. " Really, my excellent friend," said the Abbe to Mrs. Leslie a few hours later, Oliver is a noble you' h, un cœur d 'or. He is too vehement, but we must remember that he has not the ad vantage of a wise Director, to moderate the ardour of a young mind in the cause of what he erroneously believes to be truth. For this he is to be pitied not blamed." The sequel of our tale will shew that this influence of the spiritual Director is not always exercised to temper excess of zeal.

But we will not anticipate. From this day Oliver strove, and not unsuc cessfully, to avoid the recurrence of such ebulli tions, as he had too often indulged from a false notion of duty. "I have been perhaps over CHARITY. ready," would he say to Alice, " to see the mote in my brother's eye. Truly the grand princi ples of Protestantism are : the right and duty to examine the Scriptures according to the light which god vouchsafes to each, and liberty of conscience for all within the limits of the Christian faith. Just remind me of that if I slide into intolerance. I would fain not be illiberal, especially in the eyes of Catholics." The late storm seemed to have cleared the air ; cheerful serenity once more reigned in Mrs. Leslie's family, every thing went on well, and a still more happy prospect opened to the inhabitants of Grove House.

One of Mark's vacations was drawing to a close, and in a few days he was to exchange home for the office of the eminent special pleader, with whom he was completing his legal studies, when Oliver came into the parlour where his grand-mother and Alice were sitting. " Where is Mark V said he, " I do not find him either in the library or in his own room. I want him to go a walk with me over the hills this beautiful morning." CHARITY. " He and Mary," replied Alice, " are gone together towards the mill, which she wished to sketch. You will find them if you go that way." " Will you not come too Alice V " No, I mean to set some plants in the garden after yesterday's rain." " That is a mere pretext," said Mrs. Leslie smiling, " her real motive is not to leave me, because my sprained foot still keeps me confined to my chair."

" Well, grand-mamma, if I can mind the garden and stay with you, I have two pleasures instead of one," answered Alice. " All right," observed her brother, " so I say no more," and away he bounded. But it was not his fate to find Mark and Mary. He went to the mill, but the mill knew them not that day ; they had wandered, they did not themselves very well know where. On reaching home, they came up to Mrs. Leslie's easy chair, bent down one on each side, kissed her, and Mark said : " Grand-mamma bless your children ; Mary and I have plighted our faith to each other this day." CHARITY. And the grand-mamma did give them her fond and tender blessing. While still the countenances of the young pair glowed with newly confessed love, while Mary still hung about her sister's neck, Oliver came in. Mark went up to him, held out his hand and said: "Oliver give also your consent to my happiness; Mary has promised to be my wife, and I promise you never 1o try and make her a Catholic.

I would not that my joy should be for you a sorrow." "My dear fellow," returned Oliver, "Mary has made an excellent choice ; you are the very man I would myself have picked out of a thousand for her husband, but for And who knows but one day ?" " Aye," interrupted Mary, " who knows indeed what my theological powers may do I I may make a brilliant convert, I rather like controversy." "Do you?" said Mark: "well in you Iwill even love controversy,which has alwaysbeen my aversion," and he kissed the fair theologian's hand. CHARITY. The Abbe Moreau was quickly told of the intended marriage, and he heartily rejoiced that his good pupil had chosen cette chere enfant.'"' The young people were to wait eighteen months before their union, for a clause in the will of Mary's father enjoined that his daughters should not marry before the age of twenty-one, and Mary was only a few months turned of nineteen.

This delay was annoying to the lovers, the more so as they must be separated so many months in the year, while Mark terminated his legal studies in town. Mrs. Leslie encouraged them by quoting the opinion of the Vicar of Wakefield, that court ship is the happiest period of life, and in fact by dint of daily correspondence and frequent visits from Mark, they managed to get on very pleasantly. They and the whole family were truly happy. Some months after the engagement which promised so well, the good old Abbe Moreau died ; an event which was the first of a long series of troubles in Grove House. CHARITY.

Chapter II

The person who came to fill the place of the late French Priest was the Rev. Arthur Powell, a native of Lancashire. He had straight black hair, black eyes, a sallow complexion and narrow visage : he had been bred at St. Omer ; his deportment was grave, his manners were gentle manly and quiet, his tones subdued, and his conversation never obtrusive, was full of general information, point and variety. About the same time that Mr. Powell came to Grove Chapel, Oliver entered upon his living at Atherton, and it was agreed that till Mary's marriage, his sister should take it by turns each to keep house for him, while the other remained with her grand-mother. After Mary's marriage, the young couple were to live with Mrs. CHARITY. Leslie and Alice with her brother. Oliver was very fond of both the girls, but Mary was cer tainly his favourite ; he felt as every one about her did, the charm of her imaginative lively winningly wilful nature, and he held much to her passing with him in his new home a part of her time while she was still free.

Y'et Alice was the first to go to Atherton, for with her quick perception of the feelings and wishes of others, she at once understood that Mary's thoughts were too much engaged on pleasantcr subjects to be at leisure for the troublesome details of laying down carpets, hanging curtains, and all the etceteras at tendant upon getting into a new home. So she declared that she felt in herself a genius for arranging a house, that Atherton in some months was to be her own especial home, that she had a right to settle it in her own way, and insisted upon undertaking the task. She was vastly busy for some weeks, and only now and then found time to run over to the Grove for an hour or two. Her grand-mother and Mary more often went to see and cheer her in the midst of her labours. CHARITY. At last her task came to an end, the vicarage was in pretty good order, and the time came which had been fixed for Mary to take her first turn at Atherton.

The elder sister kept her engagement to Oliver, although Alice thought that it was rather a sacrifice ; naturally con sidering that the post, which brought a daily letter from Mark to his betrothed, came in two hours later at Atherton than at Grove House. Alice made the observation and offered to stay altogether with Oliver, but Mary laughed, coloured, exclaimed : " nonsense," and would not hear of any change in the original plan. By the time Alice took Mary's place at her grand -mother's, Mr. Powell was not only in stalled in all the clerical functions of the late Abbe Moreau, but in the same rights of hospitality at the Grove. Mrs. Leslie by her very nature could not but be courteous to a guest, besides she respected in Mr. Powell a minister of the altar, nevertheless she agreed with Alice that the new Priest would never replace to them their good old lost friend.

The young girl even took an unreason able aversion to the present gentleman. His CHARITY. 23 eyes most frequently cast to the ground, except when now and then raised to dart a penetrating glance at some one, his studied intonations, his oily gentleness of manner, all, made her shrink within herself, and she remained distantly polite towards him, although he, with perfect propriety, tried all the ways of an accomplished man of the world to win her good will and confidence. Mary, on the contrary, did not at all share in her sister's aversion to Mr. Powell, but entered freely into conversation when she happened to meet him, and (to Alice's great distress) would occasionally touch upon controverted points of religion. One day when the discussion had been some what long and animated between the young lady and the Priest on a question of this kind, as soon as Mr. Powell left the room Alice could not refrain from saying : " Really, Mary, it pains me to hear you descant on such subjects.

By what right do you attack the religious tenets of any one ? And surely ta'k of this kind with one of the clergy is especially CHARITY. misplaced. From a young girl too it comes with particularly7 bad grace." Mary much nettled, replied with quickness : " Thank you for your admonition, but general con versation cannot be regulated by your individual notions. I cannot see any necessity for sitting as you always do in Mr. Powell's presence, silent over your work, or venturing only a remark on the weather, or a question respecting the quantum of sugar and cream he prefers in his tea." " Well ! perhaps I expressed myself too sharply," answered Alice mildly, " I am very sorry if either by word or manner I hurt you. The truth is that I was sitting by for the last hour feeling very uncomfortable, for some of your ob servations, very clever and just in themselves, must, so it seemed to me, have wounded Mr. Powell."

" Oh ! as to that," returned Mary, " Mr. Powell is quite able to defend his own positions, without your coming generously to his assistance. He has no objection to fair inquiry, and is indeed a man of much mind and deep learning." In spite of these qualifications, which there wa3 CHARITY. no contesting, Mr. Powell was so displeasing to Alice, that she felt rejoiced when it was her turn to go back to Atherton. Shortly after she walked to the Grove early, so as to breakfast with her grand-mother and Mary. She arrived at the very moment that the post came in bringing as usual a letter for her sister. As Mary read it, she coloured, bit her lips, and a slight frown passed over her brow. " I wish," she exclaimed aloud to herself, " that Mark would not trifle in this way." " What is the matter, Mary ?" asked Mrs. Leslie.

" What has he done to displease you ?" "Oh! nothing," replied Mary, "only he in dulges in a tone of levity I do not like." 44 Surely, my child, you cannot doubt the depth and seriousness of his affection," returned her grand -mother soothingly. " You have, I am sure, no real ground of jealousy." " Jealousy !" exclaimed Mary, with heightened colour, and her most dignified look. " Grand mamma you ought to know me, and him too, better than to suppose such a thing of either of us. No. c CHARITY. What ruffled me was an indifference to a more serious subject. I mean rehgion." " My darling Mary," replied her grand-mother very seriously, " respect that sanctuary in your betrothed husband's breast. Let me repeat to you the words our good Abbe Moreau often said to me. 4 Do not presume to enter where alone the presence of God should shine.' It was by respecting this golden rule that your grand -father and I spent twenty-five happy peaceful years together in spite of our different worship, and I trust it will be the same with you and Mark.

God bless you both." Tears came into Mary's eyes, and she remained silent for a short time, but soon recovered her cheerfulness. Alice concluded that Mrs. Leslie's advice had sunk into her sister's mind, for she remarked with silent satisfaction that Mary by degrees came entirely to abstain from theological discussion with Mr. Powell. At the same time frequent observation convinced her that, although her grand mother's personal liking for the Priest evidently did not increase, he was gradually gaining con- CHARITY. siderable influence over her. She never appeared quite at ease in his presence, and when speaking would frequently glance towards him to see whether he approved or disapproved. Moreover she became much more strict than she had been hitherto in her religious practices, and carried fasting rather too far for a person getting into years, and whose health was delicate.

At least so it struck Alice. At last she confided these remarks to Mary, who answered that it was of course only right for grand-mamma to practice the religion she pro fessed, and that Mr. Powell was so exemplary in his life, as well as stringent in his doctrine, that it was natural he should exercise a strong influence on his flock. As these words fell from her sister's lips, this thought for the first time crossed the mind of Alice : " Is Mr. Powell converting her ?" But she re membered her grand-mother's golden rule and held her peace. The suggestion having however once presented itself, rendered her more observant of many little things. Thus it happened one day that the younger sister found the elder in the oak pannelled drawing- CHARITY. room at Grove House, standing before some old family pictures, and so lost in thought that she did not hear the approaching step, till Alice stood beside her and made her start as she said laughing : " Which of these ladies in hoops and starched frills, or of those gentlemen with flowing wigs and bright hilted swords, are you meditating about ?