Thankful Rest written by Annie S. Swan
A >>
Annie S. Swan >> Thankful Rest
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7
"Just say a few words of prayer, Frank," said the judge at length, in
a soft voice; "it will do us all good, I think." Mr. Goldthwaite took
off his hat reverently.
"Our Father, we thank thee for this day. We thank thee for sparing us
all to come here again; and for the sunshine, and the beauty, and the
gladness of the earth. Help us more and more to feel the power and
majesty of thy hand, and the great love of thy infinite heart. Be
with every one of us to-day, blessing us as only thou canst bless,
and help us to live to thy glory; for Jesus' sake. Amen."
"Amen," repeated Judge Keane. "Now we can begin the day with a better
heart than ever."
IX.
A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED.
It was great fun unpacking the baskets, and Tom made himself very
useful to the ladies; so much so, that Miss Goldthwaite felt
constrained to whisper one word of praise in his ear, which sent a
glow to his heart. Surely never was meal so enjoyed as that lunch on
the summit of Pendle Peak; and they lingered so long over it, that
Judge Keane passed a great many jokes on the gigantic appetites, and
professed great concern about the small quantity of provisions left
for tea. When plates and forks and knives were stowed in the waggon
again, the party broke up in twos and threes, and went off exploring.
Lucy was tired, and said she would remain beside the goods and
chattels, whereupon the judge declared he would keep her company. Mr.
George and Miss Goldthwaite went off together to search for ferns,
they said; while Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom went to
the ravine on the other side of the Peak to find some rare specimens
of wild flowers Miss Keane was anxious to secure for her collection.
The judge was to whistle at four o'clock, if they had not then
returned; and promised to have tea ready, which was considered a
great joke. Lucy sat on the smooth green turf, leaning against a
boulder, feasting her eyes on the beauty, of which she thought her
eyes could never tire. The judge lay on the grass with half-closed
eyes, looking at the girl's sweet face, wondering why it looked older
and sadder and more womanly than it ought. It was a good while before
either spoke.
"Would you mind telling me, Judge Keane, please," said Lucy timidly,
"where Newhaven lies from here, and how far it is?"
The judge raised himself on his elbow, put on his gold eye-glass, and
looked along the plain. "There, straight as the crow flies, little
one," he said, pointing west. "It is about thirty miles in a direct
line from where we sit; by rail about fifty, I think."
"It is a long way," she said, and a little sigh followed, as if she
wished it nearer.
"You lived in Newhaven, I think, didn't you?" asked the judge.
"Yes, sir, till mamma died. It is not a nice place, but I love it
dearly."
Ay, for a quiet grave there held the loved father and mother who had
once made for her a happy home.
The judge did not speak, he did not know what to say just then, and
Lucy did not seem to expect an answer. He shut his eyes again, and
there was a long silence. Thinking he slept, Lucy rose, and, gently
laying a rug over him, slipped away. He opened his eyes directly and
watched her. She only moved a few yards from him, and knelt down with
her face to the west. He heard a few faltering words, followed by a
sob--"O dear papa and mamma, I wonder if you can see Tom and me
to-day, and know how happy we are. God bless the dear friends who
have made us so, for Christ's sake. Amen."
The judge's lips twitched beneath his mustache, and when Lucy rose
again, he drew the rug up over his face, not wishing her to see that
he had heard that little prayer. But he never forgot it. Two hours
did not take long to slip away, and then the judge sat up and looked
at Lucy with a comical smile.
"It is ten minutes to four, little one, and there isn't a sign of the
wanderers. Suppose you and I make tea: do you think we could manage
it between us?"
"Oh yes, sir; I know how to build a fire, and make tea too, and there
are sticks in the waggon. May I try?"
"Of course, and I'll help to the best of my limited ability."
Lucy went to the waggon and got out sticks and the kettle, while the
judge made an amateur stove between four stones. Lucy then laid the
fire, and in a minute there was quite a cheerful little blaze. Water
was the next thing, and the judge remembered there used to be a tiny
spring a few yards down the slope, which was found without any
difficulty; and he brought back the kettle filled, and placed it on
the fire. He had so many odd remarks to make about his new
occupation, that Lucy was kept laughing pretty nearly all the time.
It was getting on for five o'clock before four heads appeared at the
edge of the slope. Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom
arrived laden with flowers and ferns, and reported themselves
exhausted, and thankful to see that tea was ready. George and Carrie
had not been seen since they departed at two o'clock."
"You made tea all by yourself, Lucy," said Miss Keane, laying her
kind hand on Lucy's sunny head. "Clever little maiden, how are we to
thank you?"
"Judge Keane helped me, Miss Alice," replied Lucy blushing and
smiling.
"Helped! I should think I did," said the judge tragically: "she sat
on the waggon like a queen, and commanded me like a slave. She looks
meek and mild enough, but don't trust her."
"Papa, how much nonsense do you talk in a day?" she said. "I wish the
other two would turn up; I'm famished."
"Are we to wait on them, papa?" inquired Minnie piteously. "I guess
they don't want any tea: lovers never want anything to eat. Mayn't
we have it now?"
"Yes," said Miss Keane.--"Lucy dear, may I trouble you for the
teapot.--Papa, hand the sugar, and make yourself useful."
"What a real nice boy your brother Tom is," said Minnie Keane,
dropping down by Lucy's side. "We had a splendid time down there,
while Alice and Mr. Goldthwaite talked out of books. Aren't you very
fond of him?"
"Of Tom? Of course I am," answered Lucy; "you know I have nobody but
him, and he has nobody but me."
"Lucy, your tea is delightful," said Mr. Goldthwaite from the other
side of the table-cloth. "I don't know when I enjoyed anything so
well."
"Hunger is good sauce," said the judge;--"here are the truants." Mr.
George Keane and Miss Goldthwaite appeared now, apparently very much
astonished to find themselves behind time. The judge made room for
Carrie beside himself, and after looking blankly at her for a few
minutes, said solemnly, "I thought I heard you say you wanted ferns;
but I must have been mistaken, or possibly they haven't come up in
the glen this year.--Some tea here, Alice.--Miss Goldthwaite, may I
help you to a piece of cake?" The truants joined in the laugh against
themselves, and the rest of the meal was passed in a perfect babel of
talking.
"What shall we do now, papa?" said Alice when they had finished. "We
won't be going home for a little while."
The judge looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes past five: we shall
start at six. Well, I propose that each member of the company
composes, within the space of ten minutes, four lines of verse
descriptive of the scenery. I have brought pencils and paper; and the
best writer shall have my gold pencil-case to him or her self."
There was a general exclamation, and each one declared it impossible
to perform such a feat.
"Try," said the judge briefly; and he passed round the pencils and
the sheets of paper. Then he laid his watch on the cloth, and gave
the signal. You would have laughed at the utter stillness then, and
at the perplexity on each face. Slowly the hands moved round, till
the ten minutes were up, and the judge cried halt.
"You read then, judge," said Mr. Goldthwaite; "begin with your own."
"Well, here I am," said the judge with a very comical smile, and he
read slowly and distinctly:--
"It seems to me that if you go
Enjoyment for to seek,
You'll find out all you want and more
Up here on Pendle Peak."
A shout of laughter greeted this effusion, and the judge pretended to
be highly offended.
"I object to the 'for' in the second line," said Mr. Goldthwaite.
"Do you think I don't know it has no business there?" said the judge.
"But I couldn't get it to rhyme, so I was obliged to put in
something. It is not bad for an old fellow who never made two lines
rhyme before in his life. Come then, Frank, pass up yours."
"To read a page from Nature's book,
In this deep solitude,
Uplifts the heart in purer aims,
And leads us nearer God."
"True, Frank," said the judge solemnly. "You have beaten me hollow
anyway.--Now, Carrie."
"Mine is very poor indeed, Judge Keane," said Carrie, as she passed
up her slip. "Like yours it is my first attempt."
"The beauty of the hills,
So calm, so free, so bright,
Can dim my eyes with tears,
And fill me with delight."
"Very good" was the verdict; and then Miss Keane reluctantly gave up
her paper.
"How still it is! No rude discord
Falls on the ear;
We feel all earthly thoughts and aims
Must vanish here."
That also was pronounced "very good," and Judge Keane feared he
should have some difficulty in adjudicating the prize. Mr. George
Keane's was the next.
"I never wrote a poem, but since
You will not be refused,
I do declare I don't know how,
And beg to be excused."
"You have no chance anyway, George," said his father, laughing with
the rest. "It has not the remotest reference to the subject in
hand.--Well, Lucy."
"Mine last, please," pleaded Lucy.
So the judge took the paper from Minnie's hand and read,--
"Papa, you know I can't make verse,
And it was very bad
Of you to make us play at this,--
I tell you I'm real mad."
There was another shout at Minnie's performance, and then Lucy
timidly slipped her paper into the judge's hand, and drew back behind
Minnie. The judge read very slowly this time, and every beautiful
word was distinctly heard.
"The calm, still brightness on the hills,
The beauty on the plain,
Fill all my heart with strange sweet joy,
That is akin to pain.
"We stand upon a stepping-stone
Up to the Better Land;
I seem to see the glory there,
And feel my Father's hand.
"And hovering near me seem to be
The loved ones gone before;
One day we'll mount God's stepping-stones,
And weep earth's tears no more."
There was a moment's surprised silence. All eyes were turned to Lucy,
who shrank further back with a very distressed face.
"The prize is yours, Lucy," said Judge Keane at length.--"Who would
have thought this shy little maiden was the poet of the company?"
There were many other remarks made, which seemed to distress Lucy so
much that they held their peace at length, and the judge remembered
Tom's contribution had not been called for.
"You thought you were to escape, young man," said he, as he received
the paper from Tom's reluctant hand. "Perhaps the last may be best
yet, who knows? Well, I never--ha! ha!"
He held up the paper, and lo, a sketch of the circle of anxious
faces, with paper and pencil before them, and every expression true
to the life. It was wonderfully well done, and created much amusement
as it was handed round the company.
"The pencil-case is Lucy's," said the judge. "But I think you deserve
a special prize, my lad. Will you let me keep this? Robert must see
it."
"Yes, sir, of course," answered Tom. "When I felt a pencil in my hand
I had to draw. I always feel so."
"True artist; eh, Carrie?" whispered the judge, and she nodded
assent. She had not yet recovered from the surprise Lucy had given
her.
"The sun is thinking of setting," said the judge then. "We must be
preparing to depart."
There was a general move, and Miss Keane and Miss Goldthwaite
proceeded to clear the table.
"Let us sit here and see the sun set, and have a talk, Lucy," said
Minnie, drawing Lucy a little apart. "What a perfectly elegant poem
that was you wrote. It's 'most as good as Whittier's George reads to
mamma sometimes. I guess you'll grow up to be a Mrs. Whittier."
"Oh no," said Lucy, laughing a little; "Miss Keane's was just as
good, I think, only I wrote more. How funny yours was."
"I should think so. Mopsy, or Ted, or Silver Tail could do just as
well, I believe.--Tom, won't you draw me a picture of my very own to
keep? I wish you'd come up and do the kittens; won't you? I ask
Robert every time he comes, but he just teases me."
"I'll draw a kitten for you if you like," answered Tom readily, "but
I can't promise to come up and do it."
Before very long Billy was harnessed again, and after bidding a
reluctant good-bye to the Peak for another year, the descent was
begun. Lucy walked part of the way with Mr. George Keane's arm to
help her along, and Miss Goldthwaite beckoned Tom to her side.
"I haven't seen much of you to-day, Tom," she said pleasantly. "Have
you had a nice day?"
"I shall never forget it, Miss Goldthwaite," answered Tom very
gravely.
And though after years brought many happy excursions up the Peak,
never was one so exquisitely enjoyed as this had been. The sun had
dropped behind the hill when the tired party reached the Red House,
and a big moon was coming up serenely in the opal sky. Mr. and Miss
Goldthwaite paused at the avenue gate, saying they would not come any
further; so the good-nights were said there and the company
separated.
"Good-night, my little poetess," whispered the judge as he lifted
Lucy from the waggon. "Go on writing, my dear; we will hear of you
yet." And he kissed her as he set her to the ground, and added
softly, "You have done an old man good to-day though you did not know
it."
It was a very quiet walk home by the river-side to the parsonage, but
the thoughts were all pleasant ones. Mr. Goldthwaite had not spoken
much to Lucy all day, but he had watched her, how closely she did not
know. He held her hand at parting, and looked straight into her
beautiful eyes, his own very grave and earnest.
"God bless you, Lucy; good-night." She wondered a little at the
oddness of his manner. "My soldier has shown to advantage to-day,"
said Miss Carrie, smiling as she shook hands with Tom. "I have been
very proud of him."
"Lucy," said Tom, as they turned into the paddock at Thankful Rest,
"do you know what I'm going to do when I'm a man?"
"Be a great painter," answered Lucy promptly. "What else?"
"Anything else?" inquired she in much surprise.
"I'm going to marry Miss Goldthwaite!"
Lucy laughed outright.
"You can't, Tom; she's going to marry Mr. George Keane, Minnie told
me."
"Is she? Well, Mr. George Keane is a very good fellow," said Tom in a
tone which would have infinitely amused that gentleman had he heard
it; "but he isn't half good enough for her.--O Lucy, hasn't this been
a day?"
"Yes," answered Lucy, and she turned full eyes up to the quiet sky.
"I think papa and mamma must see us, and be glad we have been happy."
"I feel so too," answered Tom with the sudden beautiful earnestness
which had often come to him of late.--"Kiss me, Lucy; there are only
you and I."
She put her arm about his neck, and kissed him as he wished; then the
two went very soberly into the house.
X.
ON THE LAKE.
On the first morning of November the summit of the Peak was draped in
white, and a slight sprinkling of snow sparkled on the plain. Frost
was hard enough to freeze the duck-pond and the horse-trough. Winter
had begun. It was very cold; Lucy shivered over her dressing every
morning in her little attic chamber, and had just to work to get
warm, as Aunt Hepsy permitted no sitting over the stove. Tom had to
turn out of doors at six every morning, and feed a score of cattle
before breakfast, and woe betide him if the work was not done up to
Uncle Josh's mark. Uncle Josh had a vocabulary of his own, from which
he selected many an epithet to bestow on Tom! Sometimes yet the quick
temper would fly up, and there would be a war of words; but the lad's
strong striving was beginning to bear its fruit, and he found it
daily easier to keep hold of the bridle, as Miss Goldthwaite termed
it. Keziah had been dismissed also, and Lucy's burden was sometimes
more than she could bear. Miss Hepsy refused to see what others
saw--that the girl was overwrought; and her feelings had been blunted
so long, that only a very sharp shock would bring them into use
again. And the time had not come yet. For more highly favoured young
folks than Tom and Lucy Hurst, these frosty days brought innumerable
enjoyments in their train--skating and sleighing by daylight and
moonlight, evening parties, and all sorts of frolics. There were gay
times at the Red House, especially when in Christmas week Mr. Robert
Keane came home, bringing with him two school-boy cousins from
Philadelphia. Miss Alice Keane called at Thankful Rest on her pony,
one morning, to ask Tom and Lucy to a Christmas-eve gathering. The
invitation was curtly declined by Miss Hepsy, and she was dismissed
with such scant courtesy that she departed very indignant indeed.
"What a woman that is at Thankful Rest," she said to Miss Goldthwaite
when she called at the parsonage. "I almost forgot myself, Carrie,
and nearly gave her a few rude words. I am truly sorry for those poor
children."
"Well you may be," answered Carrie with a sigh, knowing better than
Alice what their life was.
Only one half-holiday was vouchsafed to them at Miss Goldthwaite's
earnest entreaty, and they took tea at the parsonage, after which the
party went up to the Red House pond to see the skating there. They
were very warmly welcomed--Minnie, especially, being quite overjoyed
to see Lucy again.
"Do you skate, Tom?" asked Miss Keane, coming up breathless after a
long run down the lake.
"Yes, Miss Keane. But I have no skates; they were left at home--in
Newhaven, I mean."
"Here, Minnie, my pet, run to the house and bring out a couple of
pairs. You will find them in George's room, I think; and tell Robert
_I_ want him on the lake."
Minnie ran off obediently. Pretty soon Mr. George Keane and the two
cousins appeared round the bend, and Miss Keane introduced the latter
to Tom. They did not take long to become acquainted, and were soon
talking quite familiarly. They stood waiting till Minnie returned,
her brother with her, carrying the skates. He was a tall, slight
young man, rather like Miss Keane; and his face looked a trifle stern
at first, as hers did, but that wore off when you got to know him.
"This is Tom Hurst I told you of, Robert," said Miss Keane; and Tom
shook hands with him reverentially, remembering he was the great
painter all America was talking of.
"I'm glad to see you," said Mr. Robert Keane frankly. "Let us get on
our skates, and you and I shall take a run together. I haven't been
on the ice this season."
Tom sat down and quickly put on his skates, and the pair set off,
keeping close together. Miss Keane turned to Mr. Goldthwaite with a
smile. "Robert is interested already. I want him to do something for
Tom, and I think he will."
"He will not regret it," answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "They are all off
now but we two, Miss Keane; come, we must not be behind."
"My sister tells me you would like to be a painter, Tom," said Mr.
Robert Keane, when they had gone a hundred yards in silence.
"Yes, sir," answered Tom, wishing to say a great deal more, but
unable to utter more than two words.
"What would you say to go back to Philadelphia, and let me look after
your training?"
"O Mr. Keane!" Tom stood still on the ice and lifted incredulous eyes
to his companion's face. There was a smile there, but the eyes were
sincere enough.
"I see you would like it. Don't stand; we can talk while we go. Well,
my boy, there is a great deal of hard work, patient plodding,
uninteresting study to be gone through, and as many failures and
tumbles as days in the year, before you reach even the first step of
the ladder. Do you think you could go through it?"
"I would go through anything, Mr. Keane, and toil for twenty years,
if need be, only to be allowed to work at it. Do you know, it is life
to me even to think of it."
Robert Keane glanced curiously at the lad. His face was kindling with
emotion, and his eyes shone like stars.
"All right, my boy; you're the right stuff, I see. Leave it with me;
I'll fix it right enough. And you'll go to Philadelphia as sure as my
name's Keane. No need to thank me. Let your future success be my
reward, if I need any. Let us try a race back; you're a splendid
skater."
They turned, and sped along the ice at lightning speed, and Tom came
in a dozen yards in front at the farther side.
"Ahead of me," laughed Mr. Keane. "Is that an omen of the future,
Tom?"
Miss Goldthwaite noted the boy's flushed, happy face and bright eyes,
and concluded Mr. Robert Keane must have wrought the change. She
turned to remark upon it to Alice, when a hand touched her arm, and
Tom's voice said eagerly, "Will you skate with me, Miss Goldthwaite?
I want to speak to you." She nodded smilingly and gave him her hand.
"O Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom in a great burst of happiness, "Mr.
Robert Keane says he will take me to Philadelphia with him, and help
me to be a painter."
"I guessed he would," said Carrie. "I am very glad of it, Tom. Do you
remember what I said about this joy coming in God's good time?"
"I have not forgotten, Miss Goldthwaite."
She stopped on the ice, and laid her slim hand a moment on his
shoulder. "My soldier will remember his Captain still, I hope, in
those happier days, and work for Him with double energy because they
are happier."
The moonlight showed trembling drops in the boy's earnest eyes as he
answered reverently--"I will never forget how good He has been to me,
Miss Goldthwaite, when I so little deserved it."
"That is right, my boy; I am not afraid of you," she said heartily.
"Here we are round the bend. How lovely that moonlight shines through
these gloomy pines. Let us go right to the end before we turn."
They set off again along the smooth sheet of ice, and as they neared
the farther end of the lake Miss Goldthwaite turned aside to explore
an opening between the trees. A moment more and Tom heard a crash,
followed by a faint scream. He looked round, to see the edge of Miss
Goldthwaite's fur cloak disappearing through a huge fissure in the
ice! He had presence of mind to utter one wild, despairing cry, which
re-echoed far off in the lonely pine wood, and then he plunged after
her and caught her dress. Superhuman strength seemed to come to him
in that moment of desperate peril, and he managed to keep, hold of
her with one hand, and with the other cling to the broken edge of
ice. It seemed hours before the ring of skates and the sound of
voices announced help at hand, and his numbed fingers relaxed their
hold of the ice just as Robert Keane and his brother's strong arms
bent down to rescue them. He still had hold of Miss Goldthwaite, and
two minutes sufficed to extricate them both. They were unconscious,
and Carrie's sweet face was so deathly white that a mighty fear took
hold of all present. Alice Keane knelt down and laid her hand to her
heart. "Thank God," she uttered tremulously, and it was fervently
re-echoed by every lip. They were borne to the Red House with great
speed, and restoratives being applied, both rallied in a very short
time. Miss Goldthwaite's first question was for Tom, as his had been
for her; and she whispered to them faintly that he had saved her life
at the risk of his own. When Tom looked round, after a while, it was
to find the judge and Mr. George Keane standing by his bed.
"God bless you, my lad," said the old man huskily. "You have saved
our pretty flower. All Pendlepoint will thank you for this."
And Mr. George bent over him, his honest gray eyes dim with tears. "I
owe my wife's life to you, Tom, my boy. As long as I live I shall
never forget this."
A message was despatched to Thankful Rest reporting the accident, and
saying the children would remain till next day, at least, at the Red
House. Mr. Goldthwaite also remained. His words of thanks to Tom were
few: he was too deeply moved to speak, but Tom was quick to
understand. Next morning Miss Goldthwaite was able to appear at the
breakfast table, looking a little paler than usual, but apparently
not much the worse of her ducking. Dr. Gair forbade Tom to get up
till noon, so Carrie herself took up his breakfast-tray. He looked
surprised and greatly relieved to see her, and tried to make light of
what he had done.
"It is nothing," he said. "I would gladly do fifty times more for
you."
"We are bound more closely together now," she said. "I owe my life to
you." And bending over him she kissed him, and slipped away, leaving
him very happy indeed.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7