My pearl

Chapter I

The sun tarried long that morning, as if loth to arise, but at last burst forth from its bank of mist and fog with glorious splendor ; the clouds broke and scattered, rolling away in dark, heavy masses, leaving the sun to its triumphant course. Two young men sat on the piazza of a mountain hotel silently watching this wonder of the. dawning day.

“ Magnificent ! '' exclaimed one of them, springing to his feet, as the sun suddenly appeared. I tell you, Rob, this pays for getting up early, and waiting long. I never saw anything much finer than this in all my travels.*'

And Robert Spencer broke out with a line of the hymn,

“ Joy to the world, the Lord is come ! ”

An astonished look came over the face of

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Henry Mansfield. *^Yes, the great Lord of day has come indeed in regal glory this morning/'

“ And the blessed Christ is risen to-day. The glory of the one reminds me of the other."

Henry Mansfield's only reply to this was an impatient exclamation and gesture as he resumed his seat, while the two young, men relapsed into their former silence, the silence of true lovers of Nature in the presence of one of her marvelous transformations, a silence into which voice and spirit must subside if one would fully appreciate and enjoy her miracles of beauty. In silence men worship and wonder, and then coy Nature reveals to them secrets that gladden the heart.

The two young men were cousins, of about the same age, and both artists. They had grown up and been educated together. They were as tenderly attached to each other as though they were brothers. Henry Mansfield bad just returned from a two years stay in foreign lands. During this long absence both had changed, but their affection had not weakened. And yet the renewal of their companionship was much like the forming of a new acquaintance, for in heart and life they had diifted

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apart in many respects. It is sad but true, that, as a rule, separated friends grow different from one another, while those who are constantly together grow more and more alike ; in daily intercourse each influences and moulds the other, all unconsciously. Even the frequent interchange of letters does not entirely alter the fact, for letters lack the magnetism of eye, voice, and warm heart-beat. So in the glad meeting of these cousins there was an element of disappointment. They had come up from the city the previous evening to this mountain resort, where Spencer’s sisters were spending the summer.

Young Mansfield was the first to break the silence. Rob, what a glorious day this will be for a sketch. We must start out directly after breakfast.^’

I never go sketching on Sunday.”

‘^Why not, old chap.? What is your objection.?”

do not think it is right. You know I wrote you, Henry, that my ideas on religious subjects were entirely changed.”

remember. Change them all you like; but I cannot see the use of carrying them to any such ridiculous extreme. What harm can there be in catching and retaining such beautiful pictures as these ; what better work could you be doing on any day } Why, man alive ! what are you thinking about ? Are you crazy, to be willing to lose such a chance ? We may not have finer effects of cloud shadows on the mountains in all the time we stay. Will you lose them all for a foolish whim ? ”

Robert Spencer’s lips came together in a very decided way. I shall not go sketching on Sunday, whatever I may lose.”

Bah ! what sheer nonsense. Rob, I am afraid you are entirely spoiled.”

The stern look vanished from Spencer’s fine face. ‘‘ Henry, if my religion has spoiled me, it is because I have so little of it. What I have is my great comfort and joy. I wish I was more completely changed.”

Mansfield looked up in evident vexation and disgust. The silence which followed was broken by Agnes Spencer, Robert’s older sister, who glided upon the piazza with a cheery "'good morning.” She was tall and slight, with a pale, sweet face, dark hair and eyes, set off by her white dress, and of ‘‘ gentle gesture.” She was

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not handsome, yet there was a charm about her. Was it her beaming smile, or a certain restful, peaceful expression, seldom seen on a young countenance ? Firm lines around her mouth, very much like her brother’s, told of force of character.

Cousin Agnes looks as though she had fought and conquered,” were Henry Mansfield’s words, and they expressed the truth.

Both the young men brightened as they returned her salutation. Her brother took the hand she laid on his shoulder in both of his, and looked lovingly into her face. Glad to see you, dear ; do you not call this a lovely morning } ” giving the little hand some caressing touches.

‘^Cousin Agnes, you have come too late to see the magnificent sunrise, or rather the bursting forth of the sun from its prison of cloud and fog. I am sorry you missed it.”

“ Oh ! I saw it all from my window. I am always on the watch for the sunrise, and this one was unusually glorious.”

It was a delightful surprise to us. I began to think our early rising was all for naught.”

Then they talked of the view. Mansfield

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wondered how far distant the lake was, which lay in the valley, sparkling in the sunlight.

Agnes pointed out beauties in the landscape that she had noticed during her long stay, which even their artist eyes had not yet discovered.

Agaia the silence of full enjoyment fell upon the three, until Mansfield broke the spell by introducing the vexed question.

Cousin Agnes, what is the regulation way of keeping Sunday up here among the clouds ? There are no grand churches and cathedrals, I am happy to say ; you must have to go to the woods to worship.”

“ Do you see that spire yonder ? There is a little church, nestling among the hills, where I go every Sabbath morning ; will not one of you gentlemen be my escort to-day

Pray have me excused Cousin Agnes ; all my worshiping will have to be out in this deliciously bracing air. ‘The groves were God's first temples ; ' they are the kind I like.”

“ Then perhaps you will go with me this a/Urnoon for a walk. Cousin Henry.”

“ A walk } Why Cousin Agnes, do you mean to say that you go for a walk on Sunday with a raising of the eyebrows. “Of course ril go, and call myself a fortunate fellow, but for this morning's excursion, Rob will have to play the part of knight-errant."

Very well, you shall be excused and Robert too, if he feels too tired to take the walk."

Oh ! Rob, he might as well go, he declines joining me in a little sketching expedition; thinks it is wrong. Where did he get such nonsensical notions ? do you share them ? "

But Agnes Spencer's eyes were fixed on the distant mountains and clouds, which she was quietly watching ; she seemed not to hear.

It is all a whim ; is it any worse to use pencil and brush a little, than to sit here on the piazza and read Carlyle ? "

Agnes glanced down at the title of the book in her brother's hand — “ Sartor Resartus " and a shadow flitted across her face.

‘‘ What particular merit can there be in sitting in church, and hearing some dull preacher ventilate his ignorance and stupidity } It surely must be more elevating to the soul, to be out among Nature’s beautiful scenes, listening to her myriad voices ; there are wonderful sermons in rocks, waters, and mountains, if we are only ready to hear. I am thoroughly disgusted with

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churches, and as for all this goody talk about keeping the Sabbath, it is just foolishness. Why is one day better than another, or different from another ? They are all alike to me ; what it is right to do on one day, it is right to do on another.

Agnes was all attention now ; her earnest eyes were watching her cousin intently ; a peculiar smile on her face seemed to say, '‘you are in no mood for argument just at present.” She loosened an antique brooch from her throat : " Cousin Henry did you ever see my pin that once belonged to my mother ? ”

" Oh yes ! I remember seeing you wear it long ago ; I always admired it ; it is a beauty ; but the handsome pearl in the center is gone ; is it lost y

"Yes, I lost it this morning, to my regret.”

" What a great pity ! it spoils the pin.”

" It does indeed ; ” then very earnestly, " Cousin Henry, Sunday is my pearl among all the days of the week ; when I lose my Sunday, my week is spoiled. But I must go and see if Grace is ready for breakfast.” Then she flitted inside.

When the two gentlemen found themselves again alone, they did not incline to resume the discussion but talked of other things. ‘‘ Rob, there goes Hillard, I do believe ; I should know that strut in Greenland ; what sends him up here? Following up Cousin Agnes as of yore, I venture to say ; great good it will do him ; that fellow has never suffered much from a sense of inferiority.**

Robert gave one of his long hearty laughs — “ No, I think not, but that is a queer way of putting it.**

‘‘ Bravo ! what a peal ! that is not a Sunday laugh; how dare you? Cousin Agnes will be horrified.**

“ Not a bit of it; she does not think it a sin to laugh on Sunday, neither do I. Sundays are her most joyful days.**

‘'Well I believe it, her pearl of all days she called it ; I cannot see what she finds in it to make it seem so valuable ; it is past my comprehension. But she is the pearl of all women, if she is a little strict ; I can understand that^

It was not exaggeration nor affectation in Agnes Spencer, when she spoke of the Sabbath as her “pearl of all days.** During the years since the death of her father and mother,

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while so many cares and anxieties had burdened her heart, she had found out the value of her Sabbaths ; she had learned the necessity, the sweetness, of keeping them holy — consecrated. They were her rest days, her glad days, when she rolled off her burdens. ‘‘How can I make him understand what they are worth ? ** she asked herself many times that morning, as she recalled the words of her worldly cousin. Evidently two years residence abroad, had not increased his reverence for God’s day. As she wondered what her life would be without this blessed day she repeated softly —

“ ‘ O day of rest and gladness,

O day of joy and light,

O balm of . care and sadness, —

Most beautiful and bright — * ”

until her little sister Grace exclaimed “Why Aggie you have said those same words over ever so many times, why do you not say something else } ”

Agnes smiled — “ Because, Grace, my heart is so full of joy that God has given us this blessed day, that I cannot think of anything else.” The peace in her heart shone in her face. Grace noticed the light, for she whispered to her

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brother, as she climbed upon his lap — ‘‘Aggie looks just like an angel to-day/* Grace read the slightest change in the face that she loved, for Agnes — sister and mother too — was the embodiment of all that was good in the child’s mind. The child’s words seemed to trouble Robert Spencer ; he knew how frail his older sister was ; he astonished Grace by replying — “ I only hope this strong mountain air will soon make her look less angelic.”

At the appointed time, Agnes, Robert and Grace Spencer — with some others from the hotel — wended their way down to the little church in the valley. Young Mansfield watched their departure, then started off on a little excursion of his own, more vexed than he could express that the pleasure of his beautiful day must be so marred by all this “ Sunday nonsense.” “ How Rob can be such a confounded fool, as to be willing to lose such a glorious day as this is more than I can imagine. I do believe it is Cousin Agnes* work.”

But in the afternoon he was glad to join his gentle cousin for a walk. One could not be cross nor unhappy in her presence for any length of time f he was soon in a pleasant mood, ready to enjoy the lovely ramble through the woods. “ She is like David with Saul, she charms away the evil spirits,*’ he said to Robert, afterwards.

Agnes had a small covered basket in her hand ; she took the path that led to the little hamlet. They sauntered along, the young man stopping often to point out something beautiful or interesting, which his quick, cultivated eye discovered, some peculiar formation of rock, the moss or flowers under their feet, while he told “ his cousin of natural objects in other lands, so different from those we find in our own, describing them in his vivid, enthusiastic way. Soon they came to a small house on the outskirts of the little village. ‘‘ Will you come in with me for a few moments, to call on a friend V asked Agnes.

The young man looked vexed in a moment.

So this is your Sunday afternoon walk ; I do not care to make any calls.”

Oh, come ! Cousin Henry, come in and see a man who has lain on his back for the past thirty years ; come and tell him something new and entertaining ; it will brighten his life.”

Her winsome smije, even more than her words, mollified him ; he followed her into the house,

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and into a neat little room, plainly and scantily furnished. A tall woman, in a clean calico dress, gave Miss Spencer a kind welcome, but looked a little aghast at the sight of the strange gentleman. On a bed in the corner of the room, by an open window, lay a young man, or one you would call young, judging from the sweet, refined face, although he was over forty years old. The head, arms and shoulders were well developed, like those of any man, but the limbs under the white spread were small and shrunken, as small as those of a child. A serious illness in childhood had checked their growth, rendering them utterly useless. During all these years, while the mind had expanded and matured, the spirit grown into all that is good and beautiful, the smitten limbs had remained the same, unable to do their appointed work. After long struggles and rebellions against what seemed to be such a hard fate, at last God’s sweet peace came to this afflicted one; he took the cup, saying joyfully —“Thy will be done*’ — then great happiness followed, and quiet rest.

As Agnes Spencer looked into his face that Sunday afternoon, she could hardly believe he had ever known a trial, the expression was so cheerful, so contented ; a subdued, patient look about the mouth, the sad, pathetic tone of the deep rich voice, were all that told he had ever suffered. On the coverlet lay books and papers, a little vase stood on the window-sill containing some lovely wild flowers. His face was all aglow as Miss Spencer went up to speak to him ; when she introduced Henry Mansfield as ‘‘my cousin, an artist, who has just returned from Europe,'’ he put out his thin hand cordially. “ I am glad to see you ; I hope you will tell me, sometime, of the many wonderful things you have seen in other lands.”

Mansfield returned the greeting rather awkwardly, then retreated to an opposite window in blank amazement, that any man could be cheerful under such circumstances. Yet he did not know that this invalid was obliged to assist in the support of himself and his faithful mother ; friends were very kind, providing him with many comforts, yet with his hand printing-press, and many other devices, he helped to eke out their scanty means, preferring to be independent, as far as possible. Miss Spencer took from her basket some choice roses, some bananas and oranges that her brother had brought her from the city, also a pretty little book, all in blue — Bible Forget-me-nots” — that seemed to please him more than all the rest. On the fly-leaf were pencilled the words — ‘'The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make His face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace ! ” As he read the precious words, his eyes kindled, and a fervent “ Oh, thank you, Miss Spencer ! ” told his appreciation of the invoked blessing.

Then she told him of the morning service, giving him the text and the hymns sung; in connection with one of the hymns she repeated an incident told by the minister. In a fearful storm at sea a vessel was wrecked ; many passengers escaped, but one man floated far out on something he had grasped. When all efforts to save him proved unavailing, some one shouted to him — “Trust in Jesus.” Then there was wafted back across the waters these words, sung by the perishing man — “ Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly.” The listeners could understand every word of that first sweet verse, then the music ceased, the waves i6

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closed over him. Jesus received his spirit, he was safe in the haven. Ernest Saunders* eyes filled with tears as Agnes told this story. O, Miss Spencer, please sing that beautiful hymn,** he exclaimed.

Agnes* voice was not strong; she gave her cousin a beseeching look to join her, and without hesitation, he added his rich, full tones. Henry Mansfield knew that hymn ; he had heard his mother sing it many times ; it carried him back to childhood days ; he could see and hear that sainted mother while they were singing. Then, as they finished, a hush fell on the little party. Ernest Saunders* eyes were closed as if in prayer; two hearts at least, in that room, knew that Jesus was present.

A few more words were spoken, then Agnes rose to leave. ‘‘ These summer days must seem long,** she said, kindly.

Oh, no ! *’ was the smiling reply ; I have plenty to fill up my time ; you know. Miss Spencer, I am a member of the ‘ Shut-in-band ; * a kind friend opened that source of pleasure to me ; I have many pleasant letters to answer ; then this nice, comfortable bed, that the same kind friend provided, helps to' shorten the days as well as the nights.”

I wish you could be out-of-doors, to-day, it is so delightful ; if you only had a carriage and could ride,” said Agnes, with a pitiful glance.

I could not ride, if I had the carriage,” he said, a little sadly, so it is just as well ; ” then added, looking up at her with a bright smile. It is all right — all right.”

Henry Mansfield sprang to his feet, and hasttened to the bed. Do you really mean what you say ; do you really think that it is all right } I say it is not right ; it is all wrong.”

All the time that young Mansfield had been sitting in that little cottage the thought of his heart had been, There must be something lacking in this man to accept the situation so tamely, or else his submission is all assumed.”

Ernest Saunders looked at him steadily and earnestly. '^My God knows what is best for me ; I can trust Him ; I am just as sure that it is all right as I am sure that I see your face.”

Mansfield did not reply, but he moved the invalid’s bed, and raised him tenderly, so he could look out upon the mountains, and be ready to watch the sunset clouds. I will come in some i8 day and tell you of my travels, and show you some of my sketches and photographs,” he said, at parting, the sympathy of his heart sounding in his voice.

And my brother will come too, and bring his flute, so we can have a little concert here, in your room,” added Agnes.

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Chapter II

As the two left the cottage they carried with them a vision of a very smiling, happy face, bolstered up against the white pillows. Turning their steps homeward, Agnes told her cousin of Ernest Saunders' brave efforts at self-support, how he had cultivated his mind, using every opportunity to improve himself and gain knowledge ; how he had grown bright and intelligent, even with his few advantages ; and, best of all how cheerfully he bore his trials.

‘‘ Why, that fellow is a hero ! " exclaimed Mansfield ; “ more of a hero than the man who courageously faces the guns. All the soldier need to fear is a little pain and instant death ; but this poor man is dying by inches. How can he be so patient and happy } So this is the way you spend your Sunday afternoons, is it, Cousin Agnes ? This is your Sunday walk. This is a kind of work, I suppose, that you consider it is right to do on Sunday."

Agnes laughed pleasantly. “ I do not see

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how I could use my afternoons to better advantage; it does me good, and is a comfort to Ernest, I hope/'

Oh ! you don't need it ; you are good enough already ; but it must cheer up that poor fellow. I am glad you can go. I take it this is object lesson number two for me on the Sabbath keeping subject. O, Cousin Agnes," he added, in an ironical tone, I see you are up to your old tricks. If I have many more such lessons I may be converted to your way of thinking. You always had the power of moulding people."

They followed a different path back to the hotel ; one which offered many beautiful views. At a point where the prospect was particularly fine Agnes stopped. This is my usual resting place ; shall we sit down for a few moments } "

Mansfield spread a shawl upon the rocks, and Agnes, leaning back against a tree, closed her eyes. Then her cousin noticed, for the first time, how pale and thin her face was. When her eyes were open their brightness illumined her features, hiding their pallor. ‘‘ Why, Cousin Agnes, are you sick } " he asked.

“ Oh no, indeed ! only a little tired. I am not very strong in these days."

“ How could you be, after all these years of care ; mothering all those children ; bringing them up in the way they should go ? It was enough to crush any ordinary girl/’ But he did not refer to the great sorrow of her life that had been the real strain upon her health and strength — the sudden death of the noble young man to whom she was engaged. He died just before Henry Mansfield left for Europe. It was not strange that there was a bond of sympathy between Ernest Saunders and Agnes Spencer, for she, too, had learned how to suffer and be strong ; how to crucify self, and live for God and for others. She, too, had learned the secret of being glad and happy while carrying a heavy life burden.

The death of her father and mother had nearly broken her girlish heart ; then came years of care and anxiety, and then — the sorrow that broke the heart of the woman. Yet her voice was as cheery, her smile as bright as of old ; a little more quiet and subdued in manner ; still strangers never thought of calling Agnes Spencer ^'a broken-hearted woman.” Some thought her cold and indifferent ; they did not know the secret grief that God knew so well.

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She did not care that they should, so she “buried her sorrow.” Earnest to do the Master’s work, she found much of it to do, and Jesus gave healing and peace. There was one errand on which her feet were ever swift to go — to carry comfort to aching hearts ; such hearts recognized her at once as their kin ; she never went to them without leaving a blessing, so gently did she touch the wounded spot. A broken heart, yet a glad, even a joyful one. What a parodox ! “ How can it be ? ” the world asks. This was the thought in Mansfield’s mind as he looked pityingly at his cousin. “ O brave, true heart, how is it done, I wonder ? ” It is a mystery to those who know not the Saviour j but those who love Him understand that when He giveth Himself to a human soul, where a soul opens the door wide for Him to enter, then true peace and joy must come.

Agnes soon felt rested, and began talking brightly of the glorious scene spread out at their feet— the lovely valley, the lake, and the distant mountains. Suddenly Mansfield changed the subject. “I see. Cousin Agnes, that you have taken off the pin that lost its pearl.”

“Yes,” smiling. “You are as observing as

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ever. I do not like things that are not complete.’’

‘‘And you would not like a week with the Sabbath omitted. What do you find in it that is so delightful ? To me it is the most stupid day of all the seven ; I should like to have it left out every time. To be sure, since I have been my own master, I have managed to enjoy myself in some way ; but my boyish recollection of the day is most dreadful. I must say I have a horror of Sundays, and have always had. But you do not feel as I do. Cousin Agnes ; that is evident. What makes the difference ? ”

“ Now, mjy childish recollections of the day are all pleasant ones. The Sabbath at home was always made the most delightful day of the week. The pictures and Bible stories, the singing, the spirit of joy and gladness that father and mother infused into the day are sweet to recall. I can see mother’s bright look now, as she laid away some choice picture or story, saying, ‘ We will save that for our best day.’ She and father were always more cheerful on Sunday than on any other day. It was God’s day to them; therefore a day of joy, not to be marred by worries and cares.”

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‘‘You know very well, Cousin Agnes, that my home training was very different ; father was so strict and solemn in all his ideas. As long as mother lived, she tried to make it a pleasant time, but I imagine she did it under protest ; I really believe she was afraid to tell us a story that was not in the Bible, lest father should not approve. Then, after her death father and Aunt Maria held us children in check, you may be sure ; we must not laugh nor talk very loud, while to play a little was an unpardonable sin. Oh ! those Sunday afternoons, when we had to sit perfectly still and study our Bibles and catechisms ! I pity my poor, miserable little self, every time they come to mind. How every bone in my body used to ache ; I can feel it now ; how I used to wish I could pitch those books into the fire, and rush out of doors with a shout and a bound. In pleasant weather it was so fearfully tantalizing to sit by the window and hear the birds sing ; everything wild with joy outside, and I cooped up in the house."'

Agnes laughed. “ What a picture ! colored a little, I imagine."

“Not a bit of it; every word is true. Good

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Lord deliver me from having to spend any more such days ! Then to sit in church every Sabbath morning, and hear a stupid minister preach long sermons that no child could understand ; it was just martyrdom; I have had enough ponderous moral instruction of that sort to last me the rest of my mortal days. When I left home I made up my mind to one thing — I would spend my Sundays as I chose, and I have. Pray do not be shocked. Cousin Agnes, I have not done anything very bad, nothing worse than your Christians do, who go abroad. They very soon make up their minds to do as the Romans do, I find.*'