Left to Ourselves; or, John Headley's Promise.

by Anonymous

  CHAPTER XIII.

  _HUGH'S PROMISE._

  It was time to start for church, and John went down to find his sisters.

  His face was pale, and there was a disappointed look about him which wasvery unusual in the bright boy.

  Agnes saw it, and walked along by his side, trying to think of somethingcheering to say. But, after all, when the heart is sore there is onlyOne who can truly comfort.

  Alice and Minnie had gone in to fetch aunt Phyllis, so the brother andsister were alone.

  "Agnes," exclaimed John at last, when they came in sight of the church,"I'm so vexed with myself, so 'taken down a peg,' if you can comprehendsuch a phrase."

  He gave a little sad laugh to hide a deeper feeling which Agnesperfectly understood.

  "It's dreadfully unpleasant," she answered, "but I've gone through itbefore now."

  "You?"

  "Heaps of times. Don't you suppose, John, we all trust in ourselves everso much too much?"

  "I suppose we do."

  "Don't be discouraged," she said cheerily, "it's a comfort to feel Hehas got us in hand."

  "What do you call 'in hand'?" asked John.

  "Not letting us go our own way unhindered."

  "But that's just what I didn't want, Agnes; I wanted with all my heartto go His way, and yet I failed."

  "Yes," said Agnes slowly; "and He knew that. But perhaps, John----"

  "Say on."

  "Perhaps--I don't know, I only guess by myself--perhaps you felt youwere strong, and could stand alone."

  Agnes glanced up with eyes that glittered with tears as they went up thesteps beneath the deep portico.

  John squeezed her arm, and they entered the church.

  If Agnes had given John a lesson, she had taught herself one too. ThatChristmas morning was a time never to be forgotten; and to John, who hadgone there hoping for a little quiet time to renew his vows, to askafresh what his Lord would have him to do, there came a very differentdiscipline. Instead of being a soldier buckling on his bright armour, hefound himself a beaten-down combatant who was returning home woundedand sore.

  But a comforting thought came to him as he knelt with his face buried inhis hands; all the same for his wounds and feeling of defeat, he wasfighting under the great Captain, who loved him in spite of all.

  And when the text was given out his lesson came home to him, and heraised his head joyfully as his eyes sought those of his sister.

  "Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present youfaultless before His presence with exceeding joy, be glory for ever.Amen."

  After an instant's pause their minister began.

  "I am not going to speak to the joyful this Christmas, for they do notneed it so much; but I am going to speak to the downcast, that they maylook forward to this exceeding joy."

  Every word might have been meant for John, and he took it all humblyhome to his heart. Never had his face looked like that before, and whenthey came out there were two people happy among the throng at anyrate.

  Aunt Phyllis took Agnes's arm, while the rest lingered for a moment toshake hands with some friends.

  "Agnes," said Miss Headley, "what has come to John; he looks different?"

  Agnes pressed her aunt's arm, and whispered. "Don't say a word, auntie;but _God_ has been speaking to him."

  Aunt Phyllis gazed at her, then, with a wondrous gladness in her paleface, turned homewards.

  They all separated at their different doors. "The children," as theywere called, promising to come in at the right time.

  "No fear of our punctuality to-day, auntie," said John, smiling.

  "I don't know," answered his aunt. "I have known unpunctual people aslate on great occasions as on small."

  "Have you? Then we shall prove ourselves, I hope, to be not unpunctualpeople."

  They ran up their own steps and found Hugh taking off his coat in thehall.

  "Make haste, Hugh," said John; "auntie has been giving us a lecture onnot being late."

  "I don't call it much of a lecture," said Alice. "Aunt Phyllis neverlectures."

  The girls went upstairs "to make themselves smart," as Hugh called it,and the two brothers walked into the dining-room.

  John glanced at Hugh, but his face did not invite conversation, so hetook up his new book and sat down in the window.

  "What a smell of beer!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I wonder what it is?"

  Hugh turned scarlet. "I've had a glass," he said defiantly.

  "_You?_" said John, too surprised to hide his grieved dismay.

  "There's no sin in that, I hope," answered Hugh coldly.

  John thought a moment. "No--no, Hugh, I don't know that there is."

  "Then why blame a fellow?"

  "I don't think I blamed you; at least, not in words. But----"

  "Have it out then. Cut me up to your heart's content."

  "I wouldn't for the world, Hugh, dear boy. What would father have wishedyou to do?"

  "He never bound us."

  "I think he did. He never thought we should wish to take any till wewere of an age to decide for ourselves."

  "Don't you call fourteen old enough? Tom says he calls it absurd to tieus down to an idea."

  "Tom knows nothing about it, Hugh."

  "How doesn't he?"

  "Nothing about father's opinions, nor the principle of the thing."

  "Do you mean to say father has ever forbidden me?"

  "Perhaps not in so many words."

  "Do you think he would have, if I had waited to ask him?"

  "I believe so."

  "I did not do it as an act of disobedience," said Hugh, "and yourmaking it out so is horrid. I thought I was free to take it if I liked,so long as I didn't take much."

  John sat down by the fire, his face grave and troubled.

  "Hugh," he exclaimed, in a beseeching tone, "say you won't be tempted totake it again till father comes home. Oh, Hugh, I would give everythingI possess if you hadn't!"

  Hugh was silent. In his present mood he did not feel inclined topromise.

  "Where's the harm?" he asked at last.

  "Father trusted us not to take it till we were old enough to judge ofits dangers; he said we must take his judgment till then."

  "And how long was that to last?"

  "I don't know, but I was quite willing to leave it till then. Hugh, whatdoes our text say, as father is not here?"

  John's voice was low, and his face full of feeling.

  "I hadn't _that_ to look at out there!" murmured Hugh.

  "No. Oh, Hugh, _say_ you will not again till they come home?"

  "I'm sure I wish I had not, now you say so much about it. John, youwon't tell the girls?"

  "Not 'the girls;' but I must tell Agnes."

  "Then I shan't promise!"

  John was staggered for a moment, but after an instant he said:

  "I must not do evil that good may come. I'm sure you will think betterof it, Hugh dear; and it would be such a comfort to me if you would."

  "At anyrate don't tell Agnes to-day, till I have had time to think itover. Do as much as that for me, John."

  "I think I may promise that," answered John. "Hugh, we've had such abeautiful sermon this morning on, 'Able to keep you from falling;' ithas helped me ever so much."

  Then John left the room, and Hugh got up and walked round the table, andstood in front of the new frame: he stood long and silently, and did notmove till the others came in.

  "You are not dressed," said Alice; "we shall be late after all!"

  "I shan't take long," said Hugh, hurriedly leaving the room.

  "There is time yet," said John; "don't be a fidget, Alice. Is Minniegoing to take her beloved baby?"

  "Of course I am. Do you suppose I'm such a bad mamma that I shouldneglect my children?"

  John laughed merrily. "Sometimes mothers like to show them off; that'sone way, you know. Minnie."

  "Well, you're not a mother, so you can't judge," answered Minniesaucil
y.

  "Oh, that's it! Very well. But if you don't mind, I'll play 'father;'and see if you don't find the tables are turned."

  John shook his head so comically that Minnie hugged her new treasurecloser, and retired behind Agnes, who said:

  "You may trust John, Minnie; he will not do you or Dolly any harm."

  "But I don't like being teased," said Minnie, looking shy; "I'd a greatdeal rather not, please John."

  Just then Hugh came in, looking very fresh and nice, and the girls threwon their shawls and went in next door, bonnetless for once.

  As they all crowded up their grandmama's steps, John felt a twitch athis coat, and Hugh's voice whispered:

  "I'm awfully sorry now, John; and I'll promise."