The beauty, and luxury, and lavish tenderness that had continually surrounded Willie during his cousin's absence, brought no corresponding loveliness, and richness, and gratitude within, and Kittie found it more difficult to bear with the querulous, fitful temper than before her long separation from him. Day after day he would require her to sit with him reading aloud some foolish and distasteful thing which was suited to his weak and uncultivated intellect; or she must walk or ride, as he pleased, giving up her own occupations and plans whenever they interfered with his amusement. Time and again the question would recur to her, "Why should I give myself up to the effort to do good, where it is so evident that I can do nothing?" and then her aunt's kindness in giving her mother and herself so welcome a home when they were deprived of their earthly supporter, and the wish to make some return for all the love bestowed upon her in her uncle's house, induced her to strive with renewed diligence to influence her cousin to a holy and consistent life. He had so far been won by her courteous example as to treat Archie with respect, and even with a degree of cordiality, whenever they met; but the low-born, yet noble youth, felt the difference between Was it only compassion for his terrible infirmity that tinged the maiden's cheek and gave fervor to her every tone, as she met him about the garden walks, or in the humble cottage? Was it only the loving and earnest nature, that could not help its warm and gushing impulses, that caused the tear to suffuse her eye at every wound occasioned his sensitive heart by the thoughtless Willie? Was it naught but a generous interest that led her every day to his humble home, with her books or drawings, to ask aid of her uncle's protÉgÉe? Or was he inflicting upon himself a needless suffering, besides quenching the brightness of that young spirit which he would fain die to save from sorrow? Could it be that by one spoken word his life and health might flow back upon him with new and refreshing vigor? The risk was too great. It might banish forever from his sight the only object that made that life endurable; and so it remained unsaid, preying upon the vitals and pressing him onward to the blessed haven of rest—rest from all doubts, rest from all infirmities and sufferings, rest from all painful labor, both physical and mental, glorious, perfect, enduring rest! He felt the change that was drawing him from earth, and rejoiced in it. It were better that she should think of him as a spirit, divested of the covering that made him The very thought of his "vanity" and forgetfulness was humiliating, and Archibald Mackie shut himself up in his chamber, and suffered, and prayed, and struggled alone; and came forth with a radiant brow, and a cheerful, peaceful heart. He had done with the things of this life. The dearest and best he had dropped from his grasp, and now it was so easy to part with the rest. The dreams of his youth had made his pathway green, and kept his mind off the real evils. What if they were but transient and fading visions? They had been of sufficient duration and brightness to cheer him in many an otherwise dreary walk; and they had not been without their influence upon the inner soul that perchance would have sunk into an utter despondency and gloom but for these incentives to energy and action. No more dreaming now; but a constant looking forward to the end of life's journey, and a steady and unwearied preparation for the final summons. |