CHAPTER VIII.
COMFORT IN NEED.
"WELL, Kathie, was the visit a success?"
They had ridden a long way before Uncle Robert asked this question. Hehad been remarking the changes that passed over Kathie's face like lightdrifts of summer clouds.
"I am very glad that we went."
"What perplexes you then, Kitty?"
"A good many things, Uncle Robert. Some grave questions that I cannotunderstand," in a half-hesitating way.
"Can I help you?" The tone was gravely sweet.
"You always do,"--smiling. "Something Mrs. Strong said troubled me.Sarah _is_ ambitious, she has a desire for education, and a longing forrefinement,"--with deliberation in her slow tones. "But what if--she_should_ be ashamed of her home, after all? It is not so veryattractive,--pretty, I mean. Why, the only lovely thing in that greatparlor was the bright blazing fire."
"If Sarah takes hold of the right end of life, she will try to make herhome more pleasant for the others as well as herself."
"But, Uncle Robert, it is so hard to see when you are right in the midstof a thing,--a sort of muddle. A person standing on the outside would belikely to discover the best paths. And I thought--what if I should bethe means of making her discontented instead of happy."
"So you are not quite convinced that it is wisest to sow beside allwaters?"--with his peculiar smile.
"If I was certain I had the right seed."
"The seed is all alike,--love, faith, patience. Yes, I can catch yourmeaning,"--as the little face grew very sober. "You do not want to rouseher to a sense of and love for beauty to which she can never attain."
"That is it."
"I do not imagine you need begin to feel anxious immediately. Her crudeattempts at beautifying will be very good exercise for her awakeningbrain, and she has so much of the practical to learn that she will beless likely to run into vanity, at least no more than one wouldnaturally expect. If you choose, Kathie, you might help her in a verygood work."
"I do choose."
"When you find that you have too much on your small hands, you must passthe heaviest over to me. Remember that I shall always stand ready. Anddoing these bits of girl-work for girls will make the woman-work plainerby and by. It is taking up the little opportunities as they come, notwaiting for a great deed to be shaped to your hand presently."
"I think I must always do little deeds. They seem so much safer to methan the large ones."
"I heard Sarah ask if she might write to you; what did you answer?"
"I said that I should be glad to hear. And I shall want to know how shelikes her books. You do not think mamma would object?"
"O no. It is the best and wisest act that you could do for her. Therewas something so sweet and grateful in her sending you the lichen that Ihave a good deal of faith in her capabilities. It will be good ground inwhich to sow seed. Sarah's whole life may be the better for the chancefriendship."
"But if she should become refined and--"
"That is looking to the flavor of the fruit, my dear. God means that weshall not see it any faster than it can grow."
She smiled, satisfied.
The air was very keen indeed now. A bitterly cold night it would be. Thetender heart went out to the thousands on "tented field," and prayed forpeace, that they might return to warm, pleasant firesides.
Aunt Ruth ran down stairs as she saw them coming.
"Let Freddy take the horses," she said. "A telegram has come for you,and it may be important."
Freddy was elated with the permission. He was indulged now and then withshort drives, but, being rather anxious to display his skill, he wassometimes quite venturesome.
Kathie drew a long, anxious breath. As was natural, her first thoughtwas for Rob.
An expression serious almost to pain crossed Uncle Robert's face.
"Sad tidings for the close of our happy day," he said. "I am summoned toAlexandria immediately. Mr. Meredith--" Then he handed the slip of paperto Kathie.
Mr. Meredith had been severely wounded, and sent to the hospital atAlexandria, whether fatally or not the message did not state.
"The express train goes through at six," Uncle Robert said, "and in thiscase there is no time to be lost."
They all felt that when Mr. Meredith sent, the summons must be urgentindeed. Mr. Conover had more than an hour to make the few preparationshe would require. But there were two or three letters to answer, so hewent to the library, while Mrs. Alston hurried the tea.
Kathie stood by the window in a mood of peculiar silence. Somehow,though she had known the danger all along, with the confidence of loveshe could hardly believe that any evil would betide her soldiers.Numbers of men had served their three years without any serious mishap,and it seemed as if God would watch over these two among the manythousands.
"Aunt Ruth, do you suppose--"
"My darling, we can suppose nothing, only hope for the best."
"But it is so terrible to think of him--in any great peril."
So gay and laughing always, so full of vivacity with all his gentlemanlyindolence, so strong and buoyant! In fancy she saw him stretched upon ahospital pallet, very white, like Aunt Ruth, last winter, or perhapshaving undergone some fearful operation.
And then there came to Kathie a remembrance of the last drive together,of the few lines in the letter. It was so precious to know that, livingor dying, all was well with him. Kathie clung to that comfort with allher fond, trembling heart. Was it God's love and grace that broughthuman souls so near together and made them one great family?
"I have one request to make," exclaimed Uncle Robert, entering the room;"if you should see any of the Darrells do not mention this circumstance,unless they may have heard. I will telegraph home as soon as I reach thehospital, and write at my earliest convenience. Kathie, will you runover to the Lodge and ask Mr. Morrison to drive me to the station bysix?"
Kathie wrapped up head and ears in a blanket-shawl, and ran down thedrive. When she came back supper was ready and Uncle Robert'sportmanteau packed.
They bade him a tender good-by, and Kathie whispered a fond and preciousmessage.
Afterward they went to Aunt Ruth's sitting-room. Kathie felt ratherdrowsy and indolent with her ride through the keen air, and tookpossession of Aunt Ruth's lounge; for she was in no mood to read or sew,or even to take up her fancy crocheting.
"Did you have a nice visit?" asked her mother, at length.
That roused Kathie. "It was very peculiar, mamma, and I enjoyed it agood deal. I like Sarah, although she is not--"
"Not much cultivated, I suppose," said Aunt Ruth.
"Mamma, why did not we, when we were very poor, grow careless? I don'tknow as I can explain just what I mean," Kathie raised her face,perplexed and rosy.
"I think I understand. It is not the result of a few years, or even ofpoverty, but the lack of culture. Often a whole village or settlement,where there is no particular ambition for education, will fall intocareless and rough habits of action and speech. Every one does the same,and it is hardly remarked."
"But I suppose there has always been a school at Middleville,--and itis so near Brookside and other towns."
"Many of these old country settlers are very sensitive. They think theirway as good as any one's, and, if a few families are particularlyrefined, accuse them of holding themselves in high esteem, and beingabove their neighbors. It often proves difficult to overcome old habitsof pronunciation and the manners and customs to which one has alwaysbeen used. It was different in our case. Aunt Ruth and I were brought upin a city, and had the best advantages. I was not very likely to forgetwhat I had learned as a girl."
It _did_ make some difference, then, whether a person was rich or poor;and if one could not help his or her position--
"Mamma, wasn't it very hard to lose your fortune?"
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Alston answered, simply.
"But we might have been poorer still. There are all the Maybins--and theAllens--and we had a ve
ry comfortable home."
"Yes. We owned our cottage, and had an income of just seventy dollars ayear. It was a great deal better than nothing, though many a stitch hadto be taken to provide for the rest of our needs."
Kathie remembered,--staying in the house to sew long simple seams formamma, doing errands, washing dishes, sweeping rooms, and wearingdresses that were faded, shoes a little shabby, and never having morethan a few pennies to spend. How great the change was! And it did notend with personal comforts merely. Nearly all the rich people in theneighborhood came to visit them. Every one nodded to her as she droveout in her pony-carriage. Yet, if she lost her fortune, would they lether drop out of sight and out of mind? Ah, how very cruel it would be!
"It is a very delightful thing to have an abundance," Mrs. Alston wenton, as if she held the key to her daughter's thoughts. "Not that it evermakes a person better, socially or morally, though the world, society,generally gives the precedence to money. It affords you leisure forcultivation; it frees you from a great many harassing cares, though itmay bring others in their stead, for no life is exempt. And it certainlydoes add many new duties."
"It is right to have the cultivation, the pretty houses, the beautifulfurniture and pictures and--dresses?"
Kathie asked her question with a sort of hurried abruptness, as if adefinite answer was of the utmost importance to her, as if, indeed, shelonged for a fuller understanding of the subject.
"Yes," answered her mother, slowly. "All these things were given to usto enjoy, to use, yet not abuse. But when we seek them selfishly, whenwe think of nothing beyond our own personal needs, and of ministering toour vanity and self-love, they do become a great snare and temptation."
"If one could tell just where the dividing line ought to be," Kathiesaid, shyly.
"It is quite easily found if one searches in earnest: to think of othersrather than of one's self; to give as well as to receive, not merelymoney or clothes, but sympathy, love, tender thoughts, little acts ofpleasure; to minister to the poor in spirit as well as the poor inpurse."
"And that brings me back to Sarah, mamma. Her father may be as richas--we are," rather hesitatingly. "At all events Mrs. Strong spent agood deal at our table at the Fair, and never seemed to mind it a bit.But their house has such a barren look. They have very few books orpictures or pretty articles of any kind, yet I do believe Sarah would bevery fond of them. She has not been to school for nearly two years, soshe has had very little chance to improve. Her father is afraid that ifshe should learn a great deal she will be ashamed of her home, and allthat. I do not see how she could like it very much, because there is solittle in it to please."
"Some old-fashioned people seem to be afraid of education, but I believeit is from a lack of true appreciation of it. Whether rightly or not,civilization has made our wants extend beyond the mere necessities oflife. We need some food for the soul as well as for the body."
"But if education should make Sarah discontented and unhappy?"
"We cannot always see what the result will be, but we are exhorted towork, nevertheless."
"She asked me to write to her again, mamma. You do not think it willbe--" Kathie could hardly get hold of the right word to use.
"Injudicious, I suppose you mean? No, I do not. You may learn somethingas well."
Kathie was glad that her mother looked upon it in that light, and yetshe smiled a little to herself, not exactly discerning her own lesson inthe matter.
"Our Saviour said, 'Freely ye have received, freely give'; and, mylittle girl, it seems to me that we have received very generously. WhenI was prosperous before, I am afraid that I did not think much of theneeds of those around me; but in my poverty I saw so often where alittle would have been of great assistance to me. I feel now as if Godhad placed a great treasure in my hands to be accounted for to theuttermost farthing at the last day. It will be good then to have otherlips speak for us."
Kathie understood. "Yes, it will, mamma." Then she lapsed into silence.How all these things crowded upon one as the years went by! Fourteennow; in three years she would be quite a young lady. Looking at itcaused her to shrink back to the cloisters of girlhood.
Afterward her heart wandered out with Uncle Robert on his lonesomenight-journey, and to the other face pictured still and white beforeher. All she could do in this case was to pray.
They went to church on Sunday, and saw Miss Jessie, bright and smilingas usual. Then she did not know! It actually startled Kathie a little.
"Where is your uncle?" Charlie asked, as they were standing together.
"He was called away upon some business," Mrs. Alston answered forKathie.
The telegram came on Monday. "Arrived safely," it said. "No change inMr. Meredith. Look for a letter to-morrow."
So they could still tell nothing about him. Kathie had grown so veryanxious that it appeared as if she could not wait. The day was a littlecloudy, and she made that an excuse for not driving out. Even her musicfailed to interest. She just wanted to sit and wonder, never coming toany definite conclusion.
The Tuesday letter was long, written at intervals, and contained thewhole story. Mr. Meredith was out with a scouting-party early in theweek before, when they were surprised by the enemy and made a desperateresistance. But for his coolness and bravery none of them would haveescaped. Two or three were killed and several wounded,--he veryseriously indeed; and he had been sent immediately to Alexandria. Thejourney had doubtless aggravated the injury. He was in a high fevernow; and though he had recognized Mr. Conover at first, he soon lapsedinto forgetfulness again. Mr. George Meredith had been on, and wasunable to remain; but Uncle Robert had decided that this was his post ofduty for the present. He had also written to Miss Jessie, he said.
"We must give him up willingly, therefore," Mrs. Alston remarked.
Yes; Kathie least of all felt inclined to grudge another the cheerful,comforting presence.
"But it is terrible!" she said; "it did not seem to me as if Mr.Meredith _could_ die."
"He may not. If they can succeed in keeping the fever under controlthere will be hope. The wound itself is quite manageable, Uncle Robertbelieves."
But by the end of the week Miss Jessie and her father had been summoned.There was very little if any hope.
One of Ada's occasional letters reached Kathie about this time. "Isn'tit dreadful?" she wrote. "Mamma says that she can hardly forgive UncleEdward for going in the first place, when there really was no need, andhe was crazy to enlist afterward; and it puts everything out so! I musttell you that mamma intended to give a grand party. The cards had beenprinted, and some of the arrangements made, but when papa came home hewould not hear a word about it. I have been out quite a good deal thiswinter, and have several elegant party dresses. I was to have abeautiful new pink silk for this, but mamma wouldn't buy it when sheheard the worst news. It's _too_ bad; and if Uncle Edward should be lameor crippled-- O, I cannot bear to think of it! If he had been an officerthere would have been a great fuss made about it. I really felt ashamedto see just 'Edward Meredith, wounded,' as if he were John Jones, or anycommon fellow! But I hope he will not die. Death is always so gloomy,and mamma would have to wear black; so there would be an end to gayetiesall the rest of the winter."
Kathie felt rather shocked over this, it sounded so heartless. Was deathonly an interruption to pleasure? As for her, she carried the thought inher heart day and night, and began to feel what the Saviour meant whenhe said, "Pray without ceasing." How easy it seemed to go to him in anygreat sorrow!
"But O, isn't it lonely?" she said to her mother. "If Uncle Robert hadbeen compelled to go, how could we have endured it?--and Rob awaytoo,--dear Rob!"
That reminded her that she owed him a letter. It was such an effortnowadays to rouse herself to any work of choice or duty. "Which is notmarching steadily onward," she thought to herself. "I can only pray forMr. Meredith, but I may work for others. Rouse thee, little Kathie!"
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