Faith, Hope and Charity ... Illustrated

Preface

. "T~N reading a tale, try to imagine what it would be, were you to alter, or omit, any one chapter. It would compel the alteration of the whole story. Life is a tale, made up of incidents. Alter one ; and the whole is changed. "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players." So long as the world lasts, that saying will last too, and will be just as true in the end, as it was at first. The Drama of Life has to be played out by everyone of us ; and we must in turn take all the different parts • grave, gay, comic, pathetic, tragic. If it be true, that, at the moment the curtain falls, the whole of our Life-Drama flashes before us; some such as these may be our memories of the past; — " There, I deserted a friend, because it seemed to my interest to do so.

PREFACE.

. "There, I fastened a false report upon one whom I lisliked. "There, I lied; and, through all the scenes that followed, I invented many more lies, to support that one. "There, I deceived, out of good nature to another. I did evil, that good might come. "There, I looked on, placidly, while a reputation was being blasted, and a heart broken. "There, I did a deed, whose fearful consequences closed the first, or second, or third Act of the Drama. " Why had I not FAITH, that right must come of right ? Why had I not HOPE, that all would end well, if all were done weU? Why had I not CHAEITY, where Love was so sorely needed?" "Trust, and Confidence, and Love, would have altered the whole course of my Life's Drama ! " The young life of Gabrielle Desanges was clouded over by the gloomy doctrines of a cold nan-ow-mindedness, which banishes from religion its one essential element.

The Law of Love was omitted. Her life was trustless, hopeless, and loveless; and her young heart was, for awhile, enshrouded in the gloom of a despairing infidelity, which robbed her of all trust, all hope, all love. Many a trial was needed, before the Faith, which was wounded, but not killed, grew, out of weakness, into strength, out of defeat, into victory.

PREFACE.

. V Her troubles arose, firstly, from her ungenial surroundings; secondly, from the sin of small places, want of Charity — born of that insidious cancer, love of excitement ; thirdly, from her infatuation for a selfish, unprincipled worldling. But the "silver lining" which shines, unseen, and often undreamt of, behind the darkest clouds of life, broke forth triumphantly at last. Even so, this tale is a happy one, with a bright side to it, and a peaceful ending. The Law of Love is the main-spring of the Christian Use. Did it have full sway, this world would be a Paradise indeed ! The passions of life may twine their tendrils around the heart ; but if Faith and Hope be firmly anchored there, no power can prevail against the gentle might of that Love, which shall endure, when all beside shall have vanished away.

" And now abideth Faith, Hope, Ckabity, these three ; but the greatest of these is Charity." HIBflBTCIMI. fHEEE are Hves of Lead, Silver, Tinsel, Iron, Gold. To the few, faU the Gold and Silver hves ; to the many, those of Tinsel, Iron, Lead. So has it always been ; and so will it ever be, while human nature lasts. And sometimes, a life that begins in Gold or Silver, ends in Iron or Lead ; seldom, perhaps never, in Tinsel : tinselled life is mostly Tinsel, from its Alpha to its Omega. The tinselled life suffices to the tinselled soul; the poor, small thing would starve upon the Gold or Silver, and could, never assimilate the Iron or the Lead. Some hves there are, so chequered, that they are by turns of Lead, Tinsel, Silver, Iron, Gold. Into such hves enters much suffering. Stand with me here, upon this cliff above the sea.

It is early morn, and the sun must have capped the horizon ; but we cannot see him, for he is hidden behind that bank of dull, leaden grey. Wait, and watch. See ! a faint, transparent shimmer, behind the grey wall ! The sun is there, trying to melt that leaden barrier. Thinner and thinner it grows. It dissolves, parts, disperses, melts into a soft, sheeny veil ; and that, ere long, sinks slowly down ; and the disrobed God of Day shines forth upon the chilled earth, and warms her with his smile. Higher and higher he mounts into the clear heavens. The glad earth drinks in warm draughts of his golden wine. We throw ourselves down among the purple heather, and shade our eyes from his scorching beams. See ! a light breeze springs up from across the still water beneath us, ruffling its calm bosom with myriads of tiny introduction. dimples ; and, borne upon the wings of the wind, rising on the far-off horizon, small specks of light grey clouds, like thin smoke.

And, as they come driving on, they grow bigger and bigger, and change to brown ; and the brown turns darker and darker, and changes to steely blue, then to purple, then to black, and hides the face of the sun, till the whole land is shadowed over. Then the wind, after coming in puffs and gusts, suddenly breaks forth into a shriek ; and the storm is upon us. Hour after hour, the fierce wind deals his furious blows upon the bending trees, and the angry sea, and the trembling ships, that stagger, and groan, and struggle for dear life : but at last, as though worn out with his own storm of fury, like a child exhausted with his fit of passion, he only gasps, and shudders, and moans, and sighs, and then sobs himself to sleep, and is at rest. It is over. Again the sea is calm and quiet ; perhaps, still a httle troubled by the past storm, but withal serene.

No cloud mars the limpid clearness of the pale blue heavens. The sun is sinking into his quiet rest, casting a broad golden pathway over the dimpled water. The whole sky is bathed in floods of gold, crimson, orange, green, silver. Oh ! holy, happy, peaceful, lovely eventide ! so perfect in its sweet and soothing rest ! All the more so, in memory of the fierce storm so late passed through !

Chapter I

t GROUP of idlers lounged in front of the "Green Lion," the one little inn which the little town of Lavington possessed. All had pipes in their mouths ; all had their hands in their pockets ; all were gazing list lessly along the one little street, which was all that the town could boast. A street of shops — one butcher, one baker, one grocer, one haberdasher, one shoemaker, and one general shop, where the would-be customer always found everything except the one thing that he happened to want. " She's late," observed Mark Ibbetson, the shoemaker — a dark, heavy-featured, sallow-looking man — referring to his watch. " Yes. Ten Minutes," responded Joe Farrall, the black smith — a big, muscular, dark-visaged man — who added the profession of farrier to that of his ordinary calling. Silence. Clouds of smoke issued from five mouths ; but no words came.

Who was the " she " referred to ? No less a lady than the stage coach, whose bi-weekly arrival was the one event in Lavington. " Here she comes ! " cried Bill, the ostler, one of the group of loungers ; and there " she " was, at the other end of the street, with her four bay horses spanking away, her guard blowing his horn, her coachman sitting rakishly upon his box with his hat cocked knowingly over one eye, his reins well in hand. A proud man was Tom Burt ; for well ho knew that he was " the observed of all observers " whenever he drew rein in the httle town of Lavington. " Coach, Master ! " shouted the ostler. " Coming, Bill," was the reply ; and Mr. Boss, the land lord, appeared ; a jolly, red-cheeked, portly, weU-favored man, with a merry twinkle in his eye, and a pleasant word for every one.

Up dashed the coach, pulling up in style at the door of the " Green Lion." " You're late, Tom," cried the landlord, in hearty, ringing accents. " Cast a shoe," was the laconic reply. Joe Farrall stepped forward, thinking his aid was wanted. " No, no, had it set right," said the driver. " Step in a minute ? " asked the landlord. "No, can't," replied Tom, retaining his seat on the box, " must make up for lost time. Give us a pint of fourpenny, there's a good chap. Oh ! there's one passenger to be set down here." While the ale was being handed up to Tom, the guard opened the carriage door, and, addressing some one within, said, " Lavington, Miss." A passenger for Lavington being a somewhat unusual circumstance, ten pairs of eyes, besides the landlord's, were forthwith riveted upon the coach door, in expectation of the traveller's appearance.

She was not much to look at. A slight young girl, clad in deep mourning, with a thick crape veil, which quite concealed her features from the gaze of the curious. She carried some thing in her hand, covered over with a green cover : it looked as if it might be a bird-cage. LEAD, 7 " Do you expect anyone to meet you, Miss ? " asked the guard. " Yes ; at least 1 don't know," was the faltering reply, in a soft, sweet voice. " This your luggage, Miss ? " "Yes; one box, and a black bag, and an umbrella. Thank you." Tom Burt resumed the reins ; the guard banged-to the door, and then scrambled up to his seat behind. The horn blew, the coachman with his whip telegraphed the profes sional adieu to the landlord ; and off dashed the four bays, thenharness jingling merrily in tune with the guard's horn ; and the coach was gone, and tlie great event of Lavington over.

The quiet little black-robed figure stood beside her luggage, in great perplexity as to what she ought to do. Mr. Boss accosted her with, " Do you expect to be met, Miss ? " " I did expect it," she faltered, hi tones of chilled disappointment that went straight to the tender heart of Peter Boss. " Come in, Miss, if you please," he said. "I — I — I haven't much money left. I am very poor," she replied, with a little catch in her voice, that sounded very like a sob. " Oh, that don't matter at all, Miss," said Peter. " People comes and goes, and sits down to wait for thenfriends, with out having to pay anything, unless they calls for a glass of ale, maybe. Come in, Miss. Your friends won't be long." So, with a simple " Thank you," she entered the inn, and was shown into a little parlour, whose one window looked out upon the street.

Here she sat down to watch for her expected friends. She felt very sad and lonely, and longed for a word of sympathy and kindness. " Twee ! Cheep ! " came from the green-covered parcel which she had laid on tbe table. " Ah, poor Cheepie ! Did I forget you ? " she said, taking off the cover, and disclosing a bird-cage, in which was a canary. "Dear Cheepie ! " she murmured, in tones a little less sad ; for even the bird's presence was a small comfort. It was the only creature in all the world that loved her. "Dear heart alive! If there is not a bird!" exclaimed Peter Boss, in his cheery voice, as he entered the room. " And me, that thought it was a jool-case ! Well now, to be sure ! " Ihe theory of the "jool-case " was just a pious fraud, intended to make her think that she looked rich. " A pretty bird ! a very pretty bird ! a r«e-markable pretty bird !

" he continued. " It aiut your's, sure-ly, Mis-; ? " " Yes, it is mine," she replied, in sweet, shy accents, timidly rais'ng a pair of soft brown eyes to his. " My ! Now, if I had such a bird as that, I should feel hke a Emperor! Depend upon it, it's no common bird, that isn't, Miss ! " "Oh no," she rephed, gaining confidence, "he is not a common bird at all." " I suppose you wouldn't take no money for him, Miss ? " " Oh no ! " and instinctively she put both arms round the cage. " Not even a hundred pounds, if I was to offer it to you ? No, I see you wouldn't. He'd be dirt cheap at that." " No, he is all I have in the world. When when everything was sold (they said everything was to be sold, you know) I thought they would sell him, and I hid him away in the cupboard in my room ; and when they were ah gone, I \rought him out."

" All! very lucky you did! But don't you be afeard, Miss. No one hasn't got the right to take away that bird from you. So don't you fret your heart about it." " Oh, thank you! I am so glad to know that 1" exclaimed the girl, gaining more and more confidence. " He knows you, maybe ? " " Oh yes ! and he loves me ! " There was such sad pathos in the last few words, that Peter Boss turned away, and had to clear his throat. " If you please, Miss," he resumed " there's a cup of nice hot tea, and some fresh home-made bread and butter, and a new-laid egg, quite ready. My daughter will bring them in to you if you please." " Thank you ; but " She hesitated, and was going to say that she had only seven pence halfpenny left in her purse'; but Peter forestalled her by saying, "They was prepared for a party as didn't come, and it's a pity to waste 'em.

We've just had our dinner, or LEAD, we'd have been glad of them. My daughter will bring it in directly, Miss." "But I am expecting my friends every minute. Thank you all the same," she -eplied. " Have they got to come far, Miss ? (if I may make so bold.) " " I don't know. They are Mr. and Miss Moggridge." "Oh!— Ah! " " Do you know them ? " she aske J, with apparent anxiety. "Every body knows them, of course, Miss. In this small place every body knows everybody, you know. Oh, well — ■ they'll come if they can ; but they are not young, and perhaps they think it's young folk's business to come to old foils.. My daughter '11 be with you i i a minute, Miss." In about five minutes, a bright, cheery damsel, the very image of her father, came in, bearing a tray covered with a snowy cloth, which, being duly laid open, displayed what appeared to tho poor tired wanderer, quite a httle banquet.

After despatching it, she felt less weary aud heart-sick ; and she again drew near to the window to watch for her expected friends. But they did not come. Before long, there was a gentle tap at the door, and Kitty Boss came in, to ask if she should bring anything more. "No, thank you," was the reply; "but will you come in, please, and tell me what I had better do? I am very young — ■ only thirteen — aud I am not used, not used " Here her voice quavered, and broke down. "Poor little Miss! DoD't take on so! It's easy to see you're a lady, born and bred," said Kitty, in tones that were a gentle little echo of her father's hearty ones. " Of course a young lady like you couldn't be expected to know what to do. It's contrary to — to nature, Miss." " Thank you. You are very kind. Please to advise me.

Will you." " Surely Miss, surely." "I was very happy once, living with a dear old grandmother; not my own grandmother, but my grandfather's second wife, you know." "Dear me! Well, now." " And she, she died, about a month ago ; and after she died, there was no money left." " A life annuity, perhaps, Miss ?" "Perhaps. I don't know. And everything was sold — everything — and her relatives had the money that the things sold for; and they gave me enough money to come here to my great uncle and aunt." " Yes, father told me, Miss. Mr. and Miss Moggridge." " Are they good ? Are they kind people ?" " They are pious, Miss." " Then they must be good." "Well they ought, you know Miss. Real pious people must be good." " I am glad of that. But oh ! I wish they had come to meet me !" she said, with a weary sigh.

"Perhaps the old gentleman has the rheumatics, and the old lady can't leave him," suggested Kitty, after vainly racking her brains for a more truthful suggestion. " Hadn't I better go there ?" " WeU, perhaps you had. I'U put on my bonnet, and go with you, Miss, to show you the way." " But my box?" " WeU, father wfll be sending that way. He'll send it to you." Kitty left the room, to return hi five minutes, accompanied by her father, who went with them out into the little porch ; and, on parting said, "God be with you !" "Thank you! Thank you! Please let me shake hands with you," she faltered, holding out a little hand encased in a black cotton glove. "There! there!" said Peter Boss, in very gruff tones, and turning suddenly into the inn. " Was your father angry ?" she asked. " Angry ? No, bless you, Miss.

He's that tender hearted, you know!" They walked on, Kitty insisting on carrying the bird-cage; on, along the narrow street, to the very end, and then, down a hill, with a cottage here and there beside the road, tiU they got to the bottom ; and there stood a dull, lonely house, with a small bit of gravel in front, rafled off from the road by a rustv iron gate and rusty raUings. Here they stopped. "This is it. ShaU I knock?" asked Kitty. "Please." The poor little heart was throbbing painfully with nervous expectation. The door was opened by a middle-aged servant-maid, of grim aspect, who merely said, "Oh!" LEAD, "The young lady that was expected," explained Kitty. " Good bye, Miss." And, not waiting for thanks, she went her way. "If you please, I'm GabrieUe," said the girl, in trembling tones.

" Yes ; come in. Scrape your feet first." GabrieUe obeyed, and entered the house. " Rub your feet on the mat." Again she obeyed. Her heart was sinking within her. This woman seemed to be made of iron, and to be just as un bending. Every feature was hard; and, when she spoke, her mouth opened like the lid of an iron safe, and closed-to again with a snap, when her words were ended. She had cold steely-grey eyes, and a high bony nose, and low eye-brows. that nearly met, and iron-grey hair, drawn behind her ears, and a frUled cap, fastened under her chin with a ribbon which went right across her head. She was tall and bony, and wore, over her dress of dark brown serge, a large, long, hol land apron. This person shut the door, and GabrieUe found herself standing in a stone haU, on either side of which was a door.

Facing her was the staircase. There was a cold, tomb-like, look in the place, that made her feel very desolate. The hard-looking woman opened the door to the right, and, putting in her head, said " The chUd is here," and then went away. GabrieUe entered. The room was large, and duU, and heavy looking ; utterly unrelieved by any of the customary accessories which betoken the presence of cultured souls. There were no pretty nick nacks, no flowers, nothing in the slightest degree suggestive of the beautiful. It was aU hard, leaden, tomb-hke, even to the heavy musty scent that hung over everything. The walls were of a dismal nondescript colour ; so were the carpet, the hangings, the furniture. The chairs had stiff upright backs, and hard seats. Every thing in the room was uncompromis ingly hard and unimpressionable.

GabrieUe stood just within the door, uncertain whether to advance, for she saw no one. However, a voice came from behind a screen, at the far end of the room. "Shut the door. I know it's open!" Gabrielle obeyed. Then the voice said, " Come here." GabrieUe advanced, carrying in her hand the little green covered cage. She went round the corner of the screen, and stood in the presence of Mr. and Miss Moggridge, who were seated in two bee-hive chairs, on either side of a smaU fire, with a round table between them. Compared with the rest of the room, this sanctum within the veil appeared the very quintessence of comfort ; but, as though entirely to negative tho idea that here, at aU events, breathed an atmosphere of geniality, on this table lay an open ledger, and sundry pieces of paper, jotted over with figures; and before each of the bee-hived personages was an ink-stand and pen.

Mr. Moggridge was a shrunken, shrivelled, weak-looking old man, with pale blue eyes, very white hair, an irresolute mouth, and a trembling voice. His sister had a cold, calm, leaden face, with eyes to match, iron-grey hair, and a strong looking frame. To an on-looker, what a contrast there would have been between this un-prepossessing couple and the girl who, with sinking h?art, stood before them. In figure she was a mere child, tall for her age, and very thin. She had a sad thoughtful face, with large dreamy brown eyes, and expressive features. A heavy mass of dark brown hair, tied together behind her head, fell down to her waist, unrestrained by net or comb. Such was GabrieUe, as she stood for the first time in the presence of her future guardians. They took a good survey of her before speaking.

Then Miss Moggridge said, " So you have come." " Yes," replied Gabrielle, in low trembling tones. " I hope you know that we are taking you in, out of pure charity, and that you have no claim upon us, either now, or at any future time ?" " Yes," again. "You quite understand that you wiU be a burden and ex pense to us?/ "I am so sorry," faltered GabrieUe, trying to steady her voice. " No ; it is your cross, and you must bear it ; just as it is our cross to have to support you. Do you understand ?" " Yes." " Do you understand that, but for us, you must have gone to the work-house ?" LEAD, " Yes." " Then we quite understand each other. ThatisweU. Now you may go." "Where to, ma'am?" "You may caU us uncle and aunt. You may go to your room and unpack your box." " It is left at the inn. The landlord — a very kind person — said he would send it here.

He and his daughter were very kind to me. They would not charge me anything for my luncheon." " That is wrong ! You know it is said, ' Owe no man any thing.' " " 'But to love one another,' " GabrieUe innocently put in. " That does not apply here. That man and his daughter are 'publicans,' therefore 'sinners.' We are not told to love such people." " Was not St. Matthew a publican ?" GabrieUe timidly asked. Miss Moggridge hesitated, and then said, rather snappishly, "That has nothing to do with it! ChUdren should not pre sume to teach their elders !" " I am very sorry " GabrieUe began. " Then don't do it again ! What's that?" " My httle bird, ma'am." "A bird! I never said you might bring a bird !" " Oh, please ! please !" cried GabrieUe, bursting into tears. " There ! don't lose your temper !

I did not say I would not allow you to have a bird. But every mouth makes a difference in a house." " He eats so little! A pennyworth of seed lasts him a long time !" pleaded GabrieUe. "WeU, you shall darn aU the stockings, and I wiU pay for the bird's keep," was the gracious reply. "Thank you, ma'am." " Now you may go. CaU Kezia, and she wiU show you to your room." " Is Kezia the person who let me in?" "Yes; she has a Bible name, and she has a truly Bible character. She will be a good guide for you. Copy her in all things. If you do, you wUl, perhaps, some day, be like her." GabrieUe winced a little at this idea; but the thought crossed her mind, had Kezia ever been a poor homeless child like herself ; cast upon the world, longing for love, and happiness, and the little joys of this life; and had all the love and hope and brightness been frozen to death within her ?

Perhaps. Poor Kezia ! So, feeling compassionately towards the hard - featured Abigail, she left the room softly, and, as she did so, heard the pair behind the screen resume thenmonotonous chant, which Kezia's announcement of her presence must have interrupted. " Three and four are seven, and ten's seventeen, and four's twenty-one, and seven's — ," etc., etc. Judging rightly that Kezia must be in the kitchen, she called, first softly, then louder, " Kezia !" but no reply came. Then she descended to the kitchen, where she found that ill favoured one, sitting beside a small table, near the fire, reading from a large heavy-looking book. It was an old pictorial Bible. " I heard you caU," she said, looking up. "I thought you did not," said Gabrielle. "Oh yes, I heard you; but I thought you might as well bring down your pride so far as to come down to the kitchen."

"I am not proud," said GabrieUe. "I did not come, because I was afraid of intruding." " Oh! is that aU? WeU, you needn't be afraid of that any more! Whatever you want, you may come and fetch for yourself. Young folks ought to make themselves useful. But what do you want now ?" " Aunt said you would show me where my room is, please," replied GabrieUe. " Well, I don't mind ; for I have just finished my chapter," said Kezia. " In the Bible ?" asked GabrieUe. " Yes. I hope you read ycur Bible ?" " Oh, yes I Grand'ma and. I used to read it every night and morning." " Don't you find it very comforting ?" " Yes — when I am not too miserable." " Save us! what have you got to make you miserable ?" The chUd's lip quivered, and she could only falter, " Please to show me where my room is." " Come along, then.

But why you should be miserable I can't see ! You're lucky enough to have got a good home, She flung herself on her knees beside the bed, and buried her face in her hands. Page 15. LEAD 15 where you'll have enough to eat and drink, and a roof over your head; and what caU have you to be miserable? It must be the wickedness of your own heart! That's it, depend upon it ! Come along." GabrieUe followed in sUence, whUe Kezia led the way up the kitchen stairs, through the haU; up a second flight, and then another; and then she opened a door on the small land ing, and saying, " This is your room; and very thankful you ought to be," left her to herself. Then the girl's long pent-up desolate misery broke forth, as she flung herself on her knees beside the bed, and buried her face in her hands, and sobbed, " grand'ma ! grand'ma ! grand'ma!

" From the long fit of passionate haff-conscious weeping that foUowed, she was aroused by the opening of her door ; and Kezia and a lad between them brought in her luggage. She had risen to her feet at the sound, and now turned away to the window, so that they should not see her griefstained face. " That wiU do, young man," said Kezia ; and the lad went away. "Hope he won't carry off anything from the umbrella stand," mused Kezia. "WeU (to GabrieUe), I don't think it's very pretty of you to let me carry up your things ! What ? No answer? Sulky?" GabrieUe could not speak. She felt choking, and the fit of hysterical weeping threatened to break out afresh. With a "WeU, I'm sure!" Kezia left the room, banging the door after her. " Oh ! why, why ? What have I done ? Why are they all against me ?

" she sobbed ; and then again she wept unrestrainedly. But remembering that someone might come in, she struggled lor composure, aud bethought herself that she must try to arrange her things. Kezia had uncorded her box ; and she now produced ner little bunch of keys, and selected the one that fitted it. She was just going to unlock it, when she saw a note lying on the top. It was from Kitty Boss ; only a few hnes, out they warmed her heart, and made her feel that all kindness had not left the world. " Dear Little Miss, " Father and I hopes you won't take on. Better times wUl come. Perhaps people aren't so bad as they seem. They say there's a silver lining to every cloud. Keep up a FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY. good heart, Miss. Whenever you come this way father and I wiU take it kindly if you'U step in and rest for a bit.