Led by Love, etc

Front matter

LED BY LOVE STOR/ES BY THE SAME AUTHOR. THE FLOWER OF THE GRASSMARKET. With Five Full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 31. 6d. VERMONT HALL; or. Light through Darkness. With Eight Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 3$. 6d. HILDEBRAND AND CICELY: a Romance ot Tavystoke. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 3s. 6d. LONDON: HODDER AND STOUGHTON. ' The acrobats, awed by the occurrence, gathered around Mary Wilson and the child." — Page 52. LED BY LOVE BY M. A. PAULL (Mrs. JOHN RIPLEY) AUTHOR OF "THE FLOWER OF THE GRASSMARKET," " TIM's TROUBLES," ETC. WITH EIGHT FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS JTonbcm HODDER and stoughton 27 PATERNOSTER ROW MDCCCXCIV Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London. CONTENTS PAGE

Chapter I Poetry In The Pulpit The

tender beams of soft spring sunshine illumined the chapel, that Sabbath morning, as they gilded the quiet, respectable squares and mansions in the neighbourhood, as they even penetrated the narrow, gloomy streets and the dismal squalor of Seven and Five Dials, not so very far away. There was no reflection of that squalor or misery in the comfortably cushioned seats, and dark wood pews of the large circular chapel, into which the sunshine was streaming. On the contrary, the chapel had a general well-to-do air, as if its occupants were, for the most part, in easy, comfortable circumstances, and as if, too, the building were very much of a home to them. This could not be wondered at for a moment, if you looked at and listened to the preacher, towards whom, just now, all eyes were intently, most of them even affectionately, turned.

A large tall man, with a ruddy, beaming enthusiastic face, glowing with love to God and man, the heart of a disciple, and the brain of a poet. And the moral sunshine of God's grace shone on his features, as visibly as the natural sunshine of God's providence on the walls around. With a somewhat strange metallic ring his voice broke out at first upon the ear, but, like fine metal, it glowed and melted in the heat of his enthusiasm, so that if the charmed listeners thought about it at all, it sounded to them like the music of bells, that matched well with the poetry of his utterances. From the moment when he first rose, and said heartily, as if God were perpetually and everlastingly his joy, " Let us sing to the praise and glory of God," Mary Wilson, sitting amongst the cushions of her uncle's delightfully restful pew, knew she should, at least, like the preacher.

That is, always supposing he were not tiresomely long. She did dislike tiresomely long sermons, though she was not so ready to give outward signs of her impatience at them as her sister Gertrude. Both Mary and Gertrude had a very decided sentiment when they entered the chapel that morning that it was a comfortably meritorious act to come to a place of worship at all, that ministers ought to think well of their hearers for taking the trouble to come, to sit, and to listen to them. They attended church, or chapel, as the case might be, because it was respectable to do so, because it whiled away what would otherwise be a monotonous day to them ; because they liked to see others who went, and to observe the style of the ladies in dress, hair, and personal adornment. Mary Wilson was of a very earnest, energetic tempera ment, and she knew she should like the preacher, not from a particle of acknowledged sympathy with his spirituality, but because she enjoyed to see people do whatever they undertook as if their hearts were in it.

She was fond of music, too, and the singing was good ; she enjoyed the hymns and the anthem. During the prayer her thoughts wandered decidedly. She heard the preacher's voice as he spoke to God through Christ, like a child talking to a father through the mediation of a beloved elder brother, and pleading for forgiveness for his own sins and those of the other children ; but though she called herself a Christian, and would have indignantly responded to any one who had Poetry in the Pulpit 3 dared to suggest otherwise, she knew personally, just as much, just as little rather, of God or of Christ, as she knew personally of Queen Victoria. Indeed her position to the Sovereign Ruler of the universe and to the sovereign of her country, was somewhat parallel. She acknowledged as a mere matter of fact that God ruled the whole world, just as she acknowledged that the Queen ruled England.

She did not intentionally set herself to break the laws of either the heavenly or the earthly potentate, yet, of the two, she would have felt much more anxiety to obey the laws of England than the laws of God, if they had been in opposition and she had to make the choice. Mary Wilson had a good opinion of herself, she considered that she did no harm to any one, and some good to many ; that she was a very fair specimen of her age, her country, and her sex, and rather a credit than otherwise to her Creator. She could not help knowing, for she was often told so, that she had such a sweet temper and was so good natured, and not nearly so sharp as Gertrude. She had numerous young lady friends, and several admirers amongst the young gentlemen who visited at her father's, with all of whom she was an universal favourite for her affability and bright, lively disposition.

She had indulgent parents, money enough for her wants, and some to spare; and though not by any means an acknowledged beauty, she was " passing fair." Was it any wonder that on this bright spring morning, with youth and health coursing deliciously through every nerve and sense, she was tolerably well satisfied with herself, and with her life, as she leaned forward in her pew in the attitude of prayer, but with her thoughts all the while busy deciding upon the trimmings and colour of a new dress for a party she was to attend with Gertrude at the end of the week ? The bell-like voice of the preacher was heard but not attended to, she only caught a word or two now and then as her own thoughts flagged in their activity. She missed the text too, but suddenly, how or why she could not have told, she found herself busily listening to, and interested in, the sermon.

It might well have attracted any one possessing taste, it was so full of poetry. Under the magic spell of the preacher, spring in her young fresh beauty was seen to walk abroad upon the earth, and at her touch the great trees burst into tender green bloom, the flowers opened their delicate petals of every hue to charm the eyes of the beholder ; " the time of the singing of birds was come," and a chorus of bird voices made every wood echo and re-echo with the jubilance of song. But if Mary Wilson's mind and ears were satisfied with the beauty of the discourse, her soul had never been so dissatisfied with self in all her life as she now felt in that sunlit chapel, as she listened to the words that were to be, morally, within her, what the natural resurrection of the spring-time was to the world without.

The sermon, laden with blessing to at least this one soul in the great con gregation, was on the duty of Christian life in business, in the house, in society, the joy of a Christianity that permeated and purified the social atmosphere, that penetrated every action of the believer, and shed its exquisite aroma, fragrant and delicate, and delicious as the subtle perfume of spring flowers, on all with whom it came in contact. And as the preacher said this, his hands were extended in blessing over his people, as if from each finger he would spread and diffuse and impart to them this aroma of which he had spoken. And then he led them straight along, going with them in spirit to where the Master stood, waiting to shed abroad in them that love to Him which should make them willing to Poetjy in the Pulpit 5 live a new life " for His sake," to take up the daily cross and to follow Him.

Now, for the first time in her life, Mary Wilson heard and appreciated the tender rebuke, " And ye will not come to Me, that ye might have life." Now her sins began to look hideous to her, who had, when she entered that house of prayer but an hour or two before, congratulated herself on her goodness, and had been inclined, if she prayed at all, to utter the Pharisee's prayer, " God, I thank Thee that I am not as other men are." Now, her black ingratitude to Him who had given His life for hers pierced her very soul, and brought tears of penitence to her eyes ; so that the gentle invitation, " Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of Me ; for I am meek and lowly in heart ; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light," sounded like sweetest music to her troubled heart ; and in an agony of grief at having so long rejected Him, she said again and again, "Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief."

The singing and the benediction followed the sermon, and the congregation came out of the chapel into the open air, " balmy with the breath of spring." But the Mary Wilson who followed her uncle, and aunt, and sister, and cousins from the pew into the street, was changed from the Mary Wilson who had entered it earlier in the day. She had become " a new creature in Christ Jesus." The good seed had been sown in the garden of her heart, and watered with the fertilizing tears of repentant love, and it would spring up, and bear much fruit. " What's the matter, Mary ? " said Gertrude aside to her sister in a kind tone ; " is your tooth aching ? I saw the tears come into your eyes. I'm so sorry." " Darling Gertrude," said Mary, " I shall have something to tell you about to-night ; something, that though it makes me sad at first, will, I hope, make me very happy by-and by ; indeed I do feel happy through my sorrow ; it is like a sunbeam piercing the gloom.

I have not any bodily pain, thank you, dear." Gertrude looked sharply, just a little scornfully, at her sister. She spoke in a low voice, so that her relatives might not hear; but she said decidedly, — " Now, Mary, for goodness sake don't be religious ; it's all very well to come to chapel, of course, and we've had quite a charming, bright, interesting sermon. I like Mr. Chrome immensely ; but as to such a thing as my sweet tempered, good, kind Mary fancying she must be a dull, solemn, professing Christian, I must put my veto upon it altogether." And Gertrude smiled, as if her opinion were conclusive, and went on, " I don't want you a bit better Christian, dearie, than you are already ; you're quite good enough for this world, perhaps even a little too good," and she glanced playfully into Mary's face.

But Mary's eyes were full. " I can't tell you all about it now, Gertrude," she said in a voice choked with emotion ; " wait till the evening, and then you shall know. But please don't talk like that, you are so mistaken, dear." " Well, don't cry in the street, whatever you do. What is come to you, Mary?" said her sister; "just think if we meet any one how horrid it will look for you to be crying, what would they think ? Why it seems like the impulsive, poor folks, who come from revival services, and that sort of thing." Mary did not answer, for at that moment her uncle, Mr. Manly, turned round to ask who would like a walk before dinner. "We ought not to neglect our bodies such a glorious sunshiny day as this," said he ; " the parks will be beautiful." Poetjy in the Pulpit 7 Mrs. Manly and her son Wilfrid decided to return home at once, their house was in Capulet Square, not very far from the chapel ; the rest, Mr. Manly, his two nieces, and his three sons, Howard, John, and Fred, proceeded briskly through the broad business streets of the metropolis, quiet now in their Sabbath rest, but generally so thronged with busy pedestrians and noisy vehicles and elegant equipages, towards Hyde Park.

" Mr. Chrome gave us a good sermon, did he not, girls ? I know it suited me well," said Mr. Manly, in his frank, honest way, as he joined his nieces. " I believe in the religion that makes us better tempered in our home life and in our business; the religion that is not paraded, but lived ; not proclaimed from the house-tops, unless there is a needs be for the proclamation, but breathed out in sweetest fragrance into every-day concerns, like the aroma he talked about." Mary turned her face to her uncle's and smiled pleasantly, but she could not speak. Perhaps if Gertrude had not been there, she would have spoken, but she shrank from incurring Gertrude's frown or look of displeasure. The treasure she had found was so precious, she felt as if a cold breath might dull its beauty. Gertrude assented politely to her uncle's words, then almost immediately changed the conversation.

But when they reached the park and beheld the avenue of hyacinth beds, between which they were to walk, and smelt the delicious perfume of thousands of these exquisite flowers in perfect bloom, crimson and pink, and violet and blue, and salmon red, and deepest purple, and creamy yellow, and snowy white, Mary's heart leapt with her new found joy, which had been clouded for a moment by her sister's words. Here, in these sweet, modest blossoms, was the emblem of her life. She was henceforth to live honestly, naturally, truly, the life God had intended her to live, dependent on Christ alone, and shedding the blessed influences of Chris tian meekness, patience, and gentleness all around her, as the hyacinth does its rich perfume. The aroma of the flowers was to be reflected in the aroma of her Christianity.

How vividly these beds of hyacinths illustrated for her the sermon she had just listened to ; they wrote it indeed in living characters on the retina of her vision, and brought it to her senses with every breath of the scented soft west wind.

Chapter II Mark Manly Mary

and Gertrude Wilson were never averse to spending a Sunday at the house of their uncle and aunt in Capulet Square, for Sundays at home were generally very dull days indeed. Mr. Wilson, if it was wet weather, spent the morning in bed, the afternoon in his smoking-room with his Sunday paper, and the evening with any crony of his own way of thinking who might happen to call con veniently, in time for dinner, and a quiet rubber at whist ; or else to gossip with the ladies and have some music in the drawing-room. If fine weather, he borrowed a horse from a mews in the neighbourhood, and took a long ride into the country, as he believed the exercise to be especially good for him. After her late breakfast, Mrs. Wilson went to amuse her self and satisfy her conscience during the morning to a fashionable church, where the service began at a late hour, and was very ornate.

In the afternoon she ensconced her self in an easy chair, or plunged amongst the cushions of a sofa, holding in her hand a volume of sermons elegantly bound in crimson and gold, and went to sleep after the first page or two. Then came the long and interesting meal of dinner, especially good on Sundays, while she listened to the racy conversation of one or two of her husband's guests, men who picked up entertaining scraps of news in high circles, and echoed them because they knew a little carefullyworded scandal pleased the mistress of the house. In the evening the dear girls sang and played, while she occasionally performed a choice morceau of operatic or oratorio music, for she had been a brilliant player in her earlier years. On those fine days when Mr. Wilson was in a par ticularly amiable and unselfish humour, he hired a private carriage and took his family for a drive in the park ; and very often in the summer season, Rotten Row or Kensing ton Gardens furnished abundant and congenial amusement to Mrs. Wilson and her daughters in the gay life around them.

" If only," the mother would say sometimes, " either of you girls were to make a brilliant match and have a carriage of your own, and let me share it with you, to drive about here, I think I should be quite happy." And as often as she said this, Gertrude would smile rather satirically and rejoin, " I only wish we could, mamma," while Mary would laugh and shake her head, and declare she thought " the grandees didn't look half as happy as themselves." A self-indulgent father and an ambitious mother were not the likeliest parents to make happy Sundays, and though Mary and Gertrude would not have put their feelings into words, they felt keenly the difference between the home in Capulet Square, and their own. At Mark Manly's, Sunday was reckoned the best day in the week, even by the merry, noisy schoolboys, of which the family principally consisted.

The father of the household did not, at present, give any help to the Sabbath School belonging to his chapel ; he said, in his straightforward outspoken manner, that just now he was too busy training the Sunday-school teachers of the future in his own house, to have any time for out-of-door Sunday school work. His two elder sons, Howard and John, by their own wish, attended the Sabbath School in the morning; in the afternoon, all his children were gathered around him Mark Manly 11 and their mother for reading and studying the Bible, for talking over Scripture subjects, for singing hymns, for reading interesting books to illustrate the countries or the precepts of the Bible, for the recitation of sacred poetry, and, if they were so inclined, for mutual prayer. There was no forcing, no withholding ; this private Sabbath School was a family gathering, prized by both the boys and their parents.

If any visitors were present, it became necessarily some what less confidential in character, but even to Gertrude and Mary these afternoons were always sufficiently cheerful and interesting to make them incline to be present. Every thing agreeable was associated with the Sunday in Mark Manly's family, as it surely should be in all Christian homes. From infancy, the brightest toys, the most charming picture books, the sweetest music were set apart, and connected in the minds of the boys, with the first day of the week. And as they grew older and were sharers of the Sunday afternoon readings and conversations, they prized the day even more. A brisk walk during some part of the waking hours, prevented the ennui which rest and quiet pursuits would have been certain otherwise to produce in healthy, hearty boys.

Mark Manly was the hero of his wife and children, and he richly deserved their love and admiration. He had a very noble, commanding presence, a kindly, well featured face ; while around him abode a genial atmosphere of pro tection and love, and thoughtful care for all, especially those who were nearest and dearest to him, or those who were weak, or young, or poor, or aged. He held an excellent situation in a responsible department of the General Post Office, and received a good salary. Besides this, Mrs. Manly had her own income of a hundred a year, and as her husband often laughingly said, never came to him for pin-money. This wife of his was the fit complement and help-mate of such a man. She kept him often from being imposed upon too barefacedly, as he was wont to be, through the difficulty he felt of suspecting any one of mean ness, having so little knowledge in himself of that despicable quality in mankind.

She seconded every generous impulse that was at all within the bounds of prudence, and trained her children and ordered her household as a wise and Christian woman should. Mark Manly called his wife a "jewel," and few would have gainsayed him. The love her nieces felt for her was only second to that which they gave their own mother. Hope Manly and Christiana AVilson were orphan sisters, and had been carefully brought up by their aunt Mrs. Compton, whose judicious management of their property and sensible training of themselves, had been profited by more largely in the case of Mrs. Manly than in that of Mrs. Wilson. Each of them had, however, offered their beloved relative a home, when both were married, and she had characteristically replied to each. " My dear, I know my duty much too well to accede to your well-meant pro posal.

If your husband is a good man, he is a sufficient caretaker for you ; and if not, my presence and interference would only make matters worse." " But I said it that we might take care of you, auntie, in our turn," said Hope Manly, with her arm encircling Mrs. Compton's neck. Upon this the lady drew herself up proudly, and said, " My dear, do you think I am come to that yet ? " The offer had been repeated many times since by Mrs. Manly, though never by Mrs. Wilson ; but it was always persistently refused. " As long as I can manage myself in my own little house in Chelsea," said the old lady, " I can't allow anybody else to manage me." Mark Manly had been at first the least savoured suitor Maj-k Manly 13 in Aunt Compton's estimation. She told Hope again and again that her imagination was carried away by his fine face and figure, and the cordiality and pleasantry of his manner.

There was more solidity about Mr. Wilson, decided auntie. Besides, Mr. Wilson was a professional man, a barrister, and she should have liked a gentleman for both her dear girls. Auntie Compton had her weaknesses. Hope fired up when she said that, as girls will do when those they love, and feel they love justly too, are assailed, and she told her aunt that a gentleman, in her estimation, was not necessarily a man who had studied law, physic, or divinity, good as all these might be, but a gentle-man ; one who was universally kind to his fellows, and thoughtful ot their comfort more than of his own, " and I defy you, auntie," she finished by saying, " or any one else, to say Mark is not all that." " A saucy little girl, who defies her aunt and guardian about anything, had better go to her room till she comes to her right mind," declared Aunt Compton, and Hope went obediently; but she turned at the door to say with less defiance, but equal firmness, " Auntie, you know I have only said what is true about Mark."

She was right, and because it was true, as often happens, it was rather the less palatable to any one who could not persuade herself that a '■'■gentleman may be born as well as made." In truth, it appeared all through his life as impos sible for Mark Manly to stoop to paltriness and meanness, as it seems impossible to some other men to rise into that clear, truthful atmosphere in which grovelling deceit and chicanery cannot live. Mark Manly was a Liberal in politics ; a Nonconformist in religious thought. He declared and firmly believed that liberty and toleration should be the vital principles of both politics and religion, and proved himself large-souled, because he practised both in those two great realms of man hood, where so many men, otherwise just, and true, and kind, find it impossible to live at peace with their fellows.

Mark Manly embraced opinions only after much careful thought and testing ; for a man so impulsive and enthusi astic, his judgment was remarkably good. When quite young, some years before his marriage, he had become thoroughly convinced of the value of total abstinence from alcoholic stimulants, as a preservative of health, a saving of purse, and one means, amongst many, for guarding an honest reputation from probable damage. Also, he be lieved, by becoming an abstainer, and setting the example of total abstinence wherever he went, and into whatever society he was thrown, he could aid many to do likewise, in whom the temptation to indulgence was already strong. All these reasons he gave to Hope, before he was engaged to her, and asked her seriously whether she did not think they were sufficient to satisfy any Christian mind as to the right course to pursue.

Hope gave the subject careful consideration, and decided to try whether she could not do well without her daily glass of wine. Aunt Compton did not approve of such new fangled notions, but even she was obliged to admit that Hope's health did not suffer in the least, and Hope continued to abstain. After their marriage, all the family arrangements had been made as if alcoholic beverages had no existence ; for both Mark and Hope Manly had decided they ought not to have a place in any household ; and their half a dozen healthy boys were innocent of the taste of any of the dangerous drinks. Of course Mark Manly had a temper of his own, and was by no means perfect. He now and then spoke hastily and pettishly to his wife, or the children, or the servants but it was a rare cloud indeed in that sunny household Mark Manly 15 which was caused by the father of it.

Nor was Mark Manly too proud to ask forgiveness for his fault. He did not consider it particularly magnanimous and meritorious in him, if he permitted the sun of his favour to shine out again, as if no black streaks of passion had hidden its glory. He confessed his fault to those who had suffered by it, and, what was better, he tried harder next time he was tempted, to keep the enemy in check. Sometimes he succeeded so well, and for so long, that a strange dread, a dread which, perhaps, has but little chance to enter the hearts of a very great multitude of wives, would steal into that of Hope Manly. Was Mark getting too good for this world ? Sometimes, as this thought swept over her, and filled her soul with terror, for Hope loved her husband very passionately, and with a love that grew deeper and fuller every day, she would steal behind him as he sat, and fold her arms around his neck, and stoop over him, and kiss his curly hair, dark still, but with the faintest suspicion of grey coming amongst its brown glossiness.

And Mark would draw her forward and make her rest upon his knee, and hold her encircled by his arms, and kiss her forehead, and look into her blue eyes, and see tears shining there that glistened like diamonds in the firelight. " Why, Hope, love, what is the matter ! Are you not well ? " " I know I am very silly," says Hope, half ashamed oi herself and her fears. " Silly, my dear little wife, what about ? " And she hides her face against his breast, being conscious that he will naturally laugh at her a little, and feeling the old sweet shyness come over her at what she has to say ; blended with the love for him, that lies only half hidden in the meaning of her words. " I have been almost wishing you would not be quite so good, Mark. I cannot spare you yet, dear." " Oh ! Hope," he answers, his voice a little tremulous, "dear foolish little wife !" and he lifts her head and makes her look at him again.

"Why, what is come to you? I'm a long, long way from perfection yet, little one, and if heaven is not open to me till my goodness earns it, it never, never will be. Don't we know that well, Hope?" With these words he looks at her gravely, though very tenderly, and holds her tightly still ; thinking of her fears, and of her love for him.

Chapter III New Meanings Have

you ever noticed the Chinese characters on chests of tea and wondered what they meant, what the words would be that go through so many hands unread, and not in the least understood, if they were translated into English ? Have you ever looked at a Hebrew Bible, gazed at the lines with something of reverence, turned its pages over, as you are told is the proper way, from left to right, instead of, as in our own fashion with books, from right to left ? Have you ever felt, when examining volumes in unknown languages, what a revelation of beauty, or of glory, or of knowledge, there may be in those silent pages, if only you could make them eloquent by reading them ? Mary Wilson had often felt thus as she sat amongst her uncle and aunt and cousins, when the pleasant Sabbath pursuits were engaged in ; pursuits that seemed so interesting to them all, but which, though not lacking a certain outside interest for herself also, were very much like trying to understand characters in an unknown tongue.