CHAPTER II.

THE POSSESSOR OF PIETY.

IN a beautiful country town, near forty miles from the city honored as the residence of Monson P. Tracy, lay the valuable estate of Mr. Roswell Edmond. On a height of land overlooking a great sweep of forest and plain with a church spire here and there giving notice of a home for weary wanderers, a lovely lawn sloping down to the edge of a lake in the foreground with a pretty border of willows and maples making the borders of the estate, stood an English cottage almost embowered in the numerous vines trained over the lattices.

As the traveller approached by the main avenue, which wound around the lawn to the front entrance, he could not fail to be impressed with the evidences of refined taste which met his view on every side.

Ornamental trees of a half century's growth threw a pleasant shade over the avenue, but the whole front was open except an occasional tree or cluster of trees which gave additional beauty to the scene. Here was a purple beech, a magnificent specimen, with its heavy foliage gracefully sweeping the ground. There on the opposite side were a cluster of Norway spruce, and, farther on, some rare varieties of Siberian pine.

On the wide piazza which extended around three sides of the house, rustic chairs, with wide spread arms invited the weary to rest, while the fragrant honeysuckle, the prairie rose, or the climbing wisteria vied with each other in producing charms to the delight of those who lingered near.

The front entrance opened into a spacious hall, extending through the house uninterrupted by stairs.

This was a favorite apartment with the whole family, and many hours every day through all the summer months were passed there.

The walls of the hall were lined with rare paintings carefully selected by Mr. Edmond during his frequent European tours. Nor did he neglect the skill of his own countrymen, as many a gem by an American artist bore ample testimony. The corners of the hall and also niches in the sides were filled with busts and statuary. This apartment being lighted from the roof was finely adapted for the purpose to which it had been applied.

Beside the light from above there was a high, narrow window, each side of the front door, and in the corner, near a splendidly executed bust of Sir Walter Scott stood a table inlaid with pearl, covered with the trifles usually found in connection with a lady's work-basket.

This was the favorite resort of Helen Josephine, only daughter and constant companion of Mr. Edmond.

The oldest child, a son named Francis Joseph, was nearly four years his sister's senior, and was Sophomore in Yale College, having left home for the preparatory school a short time after his mother's decease, which occurred five years earlier.

The dangerous illness of his father had called him from College duties at a time when, worn with over-work, he was poorly fitted to meet the overwhelming blow which awaited him.

He had the privilege, however, of administering to his father's comfort, for three days before his decease. To his care the dying parent committed the weeping Helen, with many tender admonitions.

"She is my darling, Frank, the companion and comfort of my last years. Impulsive, and it may be too resolute, but warm-hearted and loving, do not restrain her unreasonably. Govern her through her affections, and when other motives fail, remind her of my counsels, my prayers in her behalf."

In regard to their property, Mr. Edmond assured his son that every arrangement which prudence could suggest, had been already made. Monson P. Tracy, a man endeared to him by the knowledge of having in a worldly sense created his fortunes, had been appointed executor of his will and guardian to his children as long as they remained minors.

In speaking of this man the day before his death, Mr. Edmond said:

"He is bound to me by ties of gratitude. I believe him to be upright and honorable. And I die assured he will more than fulfil any obligations he may feel toward me by the deep interest he will take in the welfare of my children."

An hour or two later he asked: "Does the Doctor think I shall survive another day? If so I should like to see Mr. Tracy, and you may telegraph for him. But in case I should not live till he comes, I will say, that I have equally divided all I have left between you and your sister. She has also an estate willed her by her grandfather, now in the hands of an aged aunt. But as it will not come to her till the decease of her mother's aunt, I have made no mention of it in my will."

He then gave minute directions concerning his funeral, which he wished to have plain and without ostentation, recommending also that Woodbine Cottage, as his place was called, should be rented for a few years. And that until the completion of Helen's education, she should reside in the family of her guardian, if agreeable to him.

When the evening train arrived, and it was ascertained that Mr. Tracy had not answered the summons, the dying man merely explained to his son the steps necessary to be taken to set up the will, and provided that in case his executor should not accept the trust, their pastor, Mr. Knowles, should be his successor, who should have the privilege of appointing one or more, according to his judgment, to manage the financial responsibilities of his wards.

"Now," he said, when his son had made a memorandum of his father's words, "now I have done with earth, and need not be cumbered with worldly cares. I thank God, who, years ago, by his Spirit drew me to himself, and that now, in the midst of bodily infirmity, I am not harassed by mental anguish. I thank Him for his unspeakable gift—the Lord Jesus Christ, who bore my sins in his own body on the tree. And I am fully persuaded, my Saviour, having bought me with a price, will keep me to the end."

During the evening and night, Helen could not be persuaded to leave her father's couch, even to seek a few hours repose which she so greatly needed. She insisted on sharing her brother's vigils that she might smooth the dying pillow of the being whom she loved best on earth.

When he closed his eyes under the influence of opiates, she, too, slept on his pillow, her hand clasping his as she sat in a chair by his side.

Once, about midnight, the dying man started, as if from a painful dream.

"Is that you, Helen?" he gasped, fixing his dim eyes on her face. "Kiss me, darling! Oh, it is hard to leave you fatherless, motherless!"

His voice expressed the anguish of his soul, as he suddenly realized the desolation which would be his daughter's lot. But presently, after she had soothed him with kisses and words of endearment, his face brightened, and he exclaimed, with renewed strength:

"Get thee behind me, Satan, away with doubts, and gloomy forebodings. I know in whom I have believed; I can rely on His promise for me and for my children."

Then addressing them as they bent over him weeping, he added:

"I dare not ask for your exemption from trials; they are the common lot of humanity, and may be made the instruments by which your heavenly Father will lead you to himself. But I have prayed that your lives may be full of faith, hope, and charity. That the Saviour so precious to me in my dying hours, may be your Saviour, comforting and sustaining you through all your earthly journey, and at last presenting you to his Father as the reward of his sufferings in your behalf."

When the beams from the morning sun shone into his room, he roused from a troubled slumber, and pointing to the bright rays, gasped feebly:

"To-morrow's sun will shine on my body, but my soul will be bathing in the full effulgence of the Sun of righteousness. I shall see him as he is. But I shall not be afraid—no—not afraid! The pierced side and bleeding hands will be my safeguard."

He sank back, and they thought he had ceased to breathe. But he soon revived, and with a stronger voice exclaimed:

"Rock of ages cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee."

These were his last words.

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