CHAPTER VII.

CASTLE BUILDING.

THE Squire's own carriage-and-four, with servants in livery, awaited the arrival of the mail, but the Squire himself proudly gathered up the reins and dashed triumphantly along the road which had not very long before been so solemnly paced by the pair of stately blacks, with their sorrowful burden of unwilling exiles.

In some mysterious manner, the news had spread, cottages were deserted, groups were gathered, cheers were ventured, and something very like a general rejoicing seized upon the village clan. Respect for the Squire and his family, however, rose with the immense satisfaction their hospitality conferred, and nothing but the remarks of a few who in the evening twilight caught a glimpse of the pale occupants of the carriage checked the universal joy.

Mr. Spadeley was especially prophetic and mingled with all his undoubted regard for the ancient family were certain arrangements in his own mind about the speedy re-opening of the tomb beneath the cedars. It would certainly be some satisfaction that on such an occasion, no hand but his own should meddle with that solemn receptacle of fallen greatness. His daughter, however, restored to her position as attendant on her beloved mistress, entertained a happier opinion.

"If anything can do her good, it is the care and kindness of Mistress Hazelwood," she said. "I never saw such a wise dear lady in my life; why, it might be her very own sister. Never you fear, father, she'll come round as sure as my name's Jane. Miss Maude looks better already, and as for Master Guy, he and Squire Hazelwood are riding together I don't know where, and actually, he speaks cheerful and pleasant like he used to do."

"Well, they deserve Christian burial, that they do," said the sexton; "they're king Solomon's one in a thousand, doing unto others as they would others should do unto them. I saw our parson just now, and he thinks as you do, Jane; so go and do your duty like a good girl, and we'll all have patience and see what's to be the end of it."

The next satisfactory event was Mistress Hazelwood driving about in a little pony-carriage with her guest by her side, calling at cottages, and looking the sweet picture of content at the warm and affectionate demonstrations of the villagers at the recovery and reappearance among them of their valued friend.

A few pleasant weeks made all the difference in restoring what the Squire persisted in declaring was only banished by London fogs, and his mental comment upon the notion of any sane person or persons wilfully encountering the same, was emphatically to the effect that whatever happened "served them right."

He and Guy, Mrs. Hazelwood and Mrs. Falconer, and the now inseparable friends Evelyn and Maude, made precisely the family party which the Squire declared essential to the proper enjoyment of the Moat; the chill, he said, was passing away, the silent passages and grim carvings no longer frightened him, and altogether, he considered his appetite was improving, and his view of life in general was more comfortable and philanthropic. The parson was always welcome to come and look after them all, and if he could supply Master Guy's brains for awhile instead of the school, he could see no objection to things remaining as they now stood, for any time that Providence pleased to allow, and for his part, he should not choose to begin the vexatious self-torment of "meeting trouble half way."

"Dorothy, my dear," said he when the subject of their visitors was under discussion between them, preparatory to further measures, "do you believe in such a thing as 'proper pride'?"

"The world does," said Mrs. Hazelwood, smiling.

"But the world isn't you; do you think pride can be 'proper' in any shape? I want to know."

"No, surely not, dear husband."

"Then a fig for the world's opinion; so tell Mrs. Falconer just your mind about it, Dorothy."

"But, Roger, there is such a thing as self-respect, you know, and we must not ask Mrs. Falconer to sacrifice that, if such should be her view of it. What would you like me and Evelyn to do, if we were situated as she is?" And the fair face clouded a little, and the Squire looked considerably perplexed.

"That superintendency scheme does not please me, at any rate," said he at last; "she will never be strong enough for that, so oppose it with all your might and main."

"I will, dear husband; and if, as I am nearly sure, she will not consent to be without employment somewhere, I think even self-respect will not stand in the way of your plan."

"My plan, Dolly! Why, the better half of it came out of your own little head or heart, or both; and really I do admire your substitution of 'self-respect' for 'proper pride,'—it sounds more like Christianity; but let us take care we don't mistake the one for the other. And warn her gently, you know, not to take counsel with that young pepper-corn of a lad of hers. He has pride enough for the whole peerage if I'm not greatly mistaken, but if she takes him back to London, I don't believe he'll live long to be troubled by it."

Mrs. Hazelwood was of the same opinion, for the delicate appearance of the boy had troubled her almost as much as that of his mother, and having now a definite line of action in view, such as under similar circumstances she would accept for herself, the way was clear to meet Mrs. Falconer's next attempt to introduce the subject of departure from the Moat.

Then tenderly and simply she stated her own and her husband's earnest wish to detain them all, and to consider the Moat House their permanent home, adding many motherly arguments concerning health, moral benefit, and opportunity to cultivate the artistic talent which had already gained notice and approval.

"But, my dear, kind friend," said Mrs. Falconer, "you forget that my children must fight their own way through the world, and wherever I am trying to do so myself is the best scene of example and encouragement for them. Here I am tempted to be again idle and self-indulgent."

"Would you consent to work here, if opportunity could be found, while your son completes his education, and until you know what is to be his future course in life?" asked Mrs. Hazelwood.

"Yes, thankfully, but I saw no way; there was not even a cottage to be had. I could do nothing but go away when our trouble came, and I saw its effect on my boy."

"Then, dear Mrs. Falconer, stay with us, and educate our wild, spoilt Evelyn with your gentle Maude. Let Mr. Herbert take charge of Guy until his health is quite restored; and if you cannot be happy in your own old rooms here, I have no doubt there will be found some pretty cottage on the estate which will suit when required. By-and-by we can think about further advantages for our daughters if desirable, but for the present you are more than qualified to instruct them. Evelyn must have companionship, and I must either seek a governess and a fellow student at home, or send my only child amongst strangers. Will you not help us to a happy alternative, dear friend?"

The pleader could not be resisted long, and the consciousness that at present she was unfit to enter with spirit on the duties of the institution could not but have serious weight in Mrs. Falconer's own judgment. But she would not act without consulting feelings of her children, and to Guy she felt sure the idea would be highly distasteful.

"Mother," said he when she confided to him the plan proposed to her, "have you no feeling against living as a governess where you once lived as mistress and hostess of the house?"

"No feeling against it, Guy; it would be pride, and in this case, I think inexcusable pride. I am conscious that, God helping me, I can be useful to our generous friends, and it will be easier for me to assist your advance in whatever you may desire to do."

"Did you ever feel proud, mother? Do you know anything at all about it?"

"You may as well ask if I am a child of Adam," said his mother. "Pride is as natural to the human heart as any instinct we possess, and the most cruelly tenacious of its grasp; there is but one Power that can subdue it; 'and this is the victory that overcometh even our faith,' for 'whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world.' Pride is Satan's and the world's view of things; true humility belongs to another seed, and came from heaven with the Lord Jesus, Who 'took upon Him the form of a servant,' and was content with the station in which He could best do His Father's will."

"Well, mother, I am not going to say anything against this plan for the present; I would not go back to London and see you fade away into another world, as you were doing lately, for anything London hold's. I will study thankfully with Mr. Herbert, and see what he can make of me for the next few months; and if it is bearable to be under obligation to anybody, I think it will seem less hard to bear with Mr. Hazelwood and his lovable lady than I ever supposed possible. I am getting stronger too, mother, don't you see? Why, I could out-do half those fellows at school if I were to try now. There are the girls going for their ride, I'll just run and tell Maude that we are to stay, and they'll be out of their wits with joy, both of them. I'm glad it's all settled, mother,—not that I want to be idle, and you shall not be ashamed of me at least, I'm determined, neither shall that great, strong, bluff Squire."

That a most welcome change had passed over the mind and temper of her son was apparent, and even beyond what faith and hope had dared to contemplate. So the widow's path seemed plain, and a full explanation was written to Mrs. W— of the entire state of affairs, eliciting her decided approval and congratulations. She declined Mrs. Falconer's offer to come and superintend the institution until the vacancy could be filled, as she knew but too many ready and thankful for the post.

"It has all turned out capitally," said the Squire, rubbing his hands with glee, "and perhaps Miss Evelyn may be made presentable after all."

Mr. Herbert gladly welcomed his pupil, and a happy calm succeeded the late changes and disturbances at the old Moat House.

One pleasant sunny morning, Mrs. Falconer sat with her work on the lawn; Guy, having been dismissed from study by his master, had thrown himself down at her feet, and was for some time deep in the examination of a book which he had taken from his pocket.

Evelyn and Maude were gone with Mrs. Hazelwood on some errand of love, and there was prospect of a quiet hour with his mother.

"Mother," said he, suddenly, rolling over on his back, "I cannot make this out; how can it be? It says,—

"'Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men.'

"Is that always true?"

"It is the enunciation of a great principle, Guy, and is merely illustrated in forcible terms, signifying that persevering industry attains a high reward; and it is often literally true, for some of our most eminent men have risen from a lowly origin to confer with princes, and take a place in the councils of the State."

"But are they the exceptions, mother, or the rule?"

"Perhaps they may be exceptions so far as the literal statement goes, but the rule holds good in principle for most of those who are diligent in business from right motives and by right means. They usually rise in the social scale, and attain position and influence denied to the idle and indifferent. Doubtless it was so under the administration of a discerning ruler like the king of Israel, and in our own country there is no barrier to the rise of any from humble industry to heights of wealth and power."

"Well, but look here, mother; is it right to try for it? Because listen to this, 'In the world ye shall have tribulation,'—that's not honour, you know. 'Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate,'—that's not standing before kings; that's associating with 'mean men.' So what are we really to do and expect?"

"There is nothing inconsistent in the statements, dear boy. Suppose a man to attain by diligence and industry some position of eminence, let him not suppose that he is therefore exempt from trial and suffering, for if he be a follower of Jesus, he must in some way take up His cross; and possibly the very prosperity he has attained may supply opportunities of temptation and tribulation which a more obscure lot may escape.

"Then, though he may be elevated to 'high things' in the world's estimate, he must not be intent on them, or proud of them, because after all, it was by God's kind providence that he was favoured with the elements and opportunities of success; and he should sympathise with, and help forward, those who are struggling as he did, or seem less able to master the difficulties which keep them back. It seems to me that in the three passages you have quoted, we find lawful encouragement in our daily duty, warning that 'the servant' must not expect to be 'above his master,' and a necessary precept against ambition and pride."

"Well, but, mother, suppose the things clash; suppose in trying hard for the reward of diligence in business, one loses sight of the condition to which tribulation in some sense seems promised; what is to be done then?"

"Well, let us consider both for a moment, and then decide which is best worth having. When an industrious, clever man has attained his object, risen as high as he can, what then?"

"Why, that's all, isn't it? He is a great man; he does not belong to the class of 'mean men.'"

"Yes, and what then?"

"I don't know, excepting that he will like to keep what he has attained until—"

"Until when, Guy?"

"Until he dies, I suppose."

"Yes, and what then?"

"What then, mother! I cannot tell."

"Do you think that the man who has been only diligent and attentive to the business of the world, amassed a fortune, attained a high estate, will be welcomed in heaven as 'a good and faithful servant,' and counted worthy to enter the joy of the Lord? Did he not receive his reward on earth? Did his aims and desires rise above the end he pursued? And should he be disappointed at only attaining what he strove for?"

"I suppose he should not; but such a man would perhaps be thinking himself so lawfully busy, that God would provide for the next world, when he had to give up this one."

"Very likely; I fear many make that fatal mistake, forgetting the word of warning to such, 'What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shalt that a man give in exchange for his soul?' It is a question man has never dared to answer, so he evades it, until compelled to estimate the profit and the loss in the eternal consequence of his miserable neglect. But what of the other condition, Guy?"

"The tribulation, the humble and lowly lot of those who care most for following Christ and obeying God, do you mean?"

"Yes, what then?"

"Why, I suppose one escapes disappointment, and most of the troubles of the rich and great; but then you see, one may keep very low, and always be among 'mean men' at that rate."

"Yes, and what then?"

"Oh, go on creeping and grubbing till one dies, I suppose."

"And then?"

"That's all; a grave perhaps, with no name to put over it. Nothing more."

"Yes, Guy, think again; the grub days over, the wings unfold, the angels of God bear home the blood-bought soul, and the Lord Himself pronounces the welcome of His humblest follower who has lived by faith, and obeyed and honoured Him. 'Well done, thou good and faithful servant,' from the Master's lips, will obliterate all life's sorrows and disappointments, inaugurate joys that, until then, 'eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart to conceive, but which God hath prepared for them that love Him.' Oh, my son, we shall then know fully what it is to be a Christian, not in name only, but in deed and in truth."

Guy gazed at his mother with a feeling almost of awe, half expecting to see the wings she spoke of; and there was a long silence, while his face lay hidden in the grass. At last he looked up.

"Mother, I will try for both. I will be diligent in business, and take what it brings; but I will have the wings and the welcome whatever else I lose."

"By the grace of God, dear child. 'Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find'; and be sure that you shall stand one day, glory-crowned, in the presence of the King of kings."

While the mother and son indulged in silent thought on the subject of their conversation, the voices of Evelyn and Maude sounded merrily from a neighbouring walk, and before Guy could rise, he was covered with wreaths of wild flowers and denounced as the very impersonation of idleness.

"Now if you will be civil, I will convince you that I am not idle," said Guy, composedly, making strokes upon a paper or drawing-book as he lay on his face on the grass; "look if you ever saw anything like this."

Both the fairies were down on either side of him in a moment.

"Of course we have," cried Evelyn; "it is the Moat House. But you have not put in some trees that I think are there, and you show a piece of the old tower that I'm quite sure cannot be seen from the place where you stood for this view."

"You seem pretty familiar with the old place, Miss Evelyn, to notice all that; but you see, I've cut down those trees, and opened a glimpse of the tower, which I consider a great improvement, don't you?"

"You have cut down the trees!" exclaimed Evelyn, in amazement. And she darted away to look at the spot in question.

"For shame, Guy," said she, returning very red and angry; "you should speak the truth; you know you dare not cut down my father's trees."

"I meant in imagination at present," said Guy, laughing; "but, I mean to do it in fact some day, when I've got the Moat back again, and I was only just trying how it would look."

"What! Get the Moat House away from my father," cried the young lady, in surprise and disgust.

"Yes, some day; but of course I shall pay him for it; I'm going to be a thief."

"Indeed you shall never do any such thing; I'll tell him what you say."

"I thought you were my friend, Evelyn," said Guy, coolly, "and would be glad that I should have the old place where my ancestors lived for hundreds of years, and that never ought to have been sold out of the family."

"But what am I to do? I can't wish both ways, you know, and my father calls me his little queen, and says I shall reign here all the days of my life. I'm sure he will be very angry to hear of such wicked thoughts, Guy, so you'd better give them up this moment."

"No, I shall not do that; and can't you see, you hot-headed little thing, that it will make no difference to you? It will take a great many years to earn the money, and when I want the place, perhaps your father may find one he will like better, and if not, you shall all live here with us, as we do now with you."

"I don't believe my father would like that," said Evelyn, somewhat mollified; "so if it will take a great many years, I think I shall not tell him yet; but it seems very disagreeable of you. Perhaps he will not sell it to you, though, and what then?"

"Then I can't help it, I suppose, and I shall have to wait until—until—" Guy paused, it was a troublesome thought, "until—" when, and he could not say it.

Maude had listened in some surprise at the cool, assured tone in which her brother had spoken, but felt the dilemma into which he had worked himself, for in his zeal for his own project, he forgot for the moment the implied sorrow to others.

"See, see!" she suddenly exclaimed. "How grand! How beautiful! Towers, trees, gardens, and the flag of the Falconers waving over all!"

"Where? What do you mean?" cried Guy and Evelyn, starting up.

"There, in the air to be sure; don't you see? Guy's castle, I mean."

"Pooh!" said the boy, colouring. "What nonsense, Maude."

"More harmless nonsense than yours, dear brother, for you know it is written, 'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbours house.' I wish you had not had such strange thoughts, Guy."

"Well, never mind now," said Evelyn, kindly. "I dare say it's very natural, and I did not know that your people lived here so long ago."

"It may be natural, dear children," said Mrs. Falconer, "but the servants of Jesus and heirs of the heavenly mansions must be supernatural, and I hoped that Guy had chosen an inheritance that can never pass away."

"But I may have both, you know, mother, and if not, I shall choose the best."

What a puffed-up, elastic thing is a young human heart! What big thoughts, what strong wills, what unspeakable ideas swell within it!

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