Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1851-09-11
VOL. vi.

ten come TO invite you away from me-
1t was with strong effort that he had shak-
en- off the sombre mood into which he had fall
en-, and attempted to enter into her childish
amusements once more. He was startled by
the earnest, dreamy look that she still retained.
AS he had said, it was too womanly for that
young fair face.
She smiled again obedience to those she
loved was the strong principle of her nature,
for she had ever been governed by Affection
| No one ever spoke harsh word to Marian,
motherless Marian Arnold, the light of her
fathers lonely life, and the pet of the neigh
bors, who looked out to catch glimpse of her
light figure as she bounded up the dark court
like littering ray of sunshine. 1t was a
gloomy abode for such bright young crea-
ture, or stranger would have thought so.-
The house so old and cheerless, far away from
the gay shops and the beautiful women who
frequent them. There was not even a green
tree or an ivy wreath to refresh the eye, moth
ing but Mariam's little pot of mignonette upon
the window-sill, fresh and fragrant like herself,
and her bird, who sang above it with carol as
| light-hearted as her own. The bird, fhe child
and the flowers, these were the light of that
lonely house, since Mariam's mother had faded
in its dreariness. And it was home, too, even
| if the old servant, who moved with such a eau
tious tread among the dusty books of her mas
ter's study, was the only companionable crea-
ture, save the bird. How carefully she rubbed
the dingy furniture, and mended the thread
bare curtains, long since faded from their cheer
ful neatness! 1t was, perhaps, this seclusion,
that had given Marian, with all her eager,
childish grace, thoughts above her years and
after her friend had gone, she put the kitten
from her lap, and leaned out of the window to
watch for her fathers return, musing, as she
had never done before, how men could ever
live without knowing they had Father up in
Heaven, and who else they could thank for
taking care of them through the long dark
| night And then her frend-Paul, he had
told her TO call him, when he first came to read
those strange Hebrew words to her father,
daily study of the ancient language of the BIZ
Bile ne reverenced so much-Panl was going
away to tell them to love Him. How very
good he was She should miss him great
deal though. Perhaps he would take her too
Oh, she had not thought of that before But
then there was her father No, Paul must
go alone. Poor Paul, with no one to love him
but herself How gravely he made her prom
ise TO love him, as if she had not always done
so, from that very first day when he had taken
her upon his knee. and talked to her as no one
else could talk
The young curate, for such he was, of
wealthy parish church, old and 'lukewarm,
because of its long prosperity, had gone to his
daily duty of reading the evening service to
scattered congregation, half hidden in the high
straight pews, that almost stifed their faint
responses. He went with heavy load upon
his heart, for he was stranger among them
and to their sympathies. There was no pow
erty to call such as he to their homes the rec
tor only was hidden to the rich mans feasts-
He came and went to and from the gilded
chancel, with scarce smile of recognition
from those 10 whom his rich voice had read the
comfortable words of their Master, and his
The Bible told him they were brethren, but
his heart said they were utter strangers. 1t
was this cold supineness that had first turned
his thoughts TO more earnest, active life
among men ready to perish, while his pres
ent ministry was to those who were full and
had need of nothing And at last, after many
struggle and many prayer, he had steadfast-
ly turned his face to mission in the western
wilds of his native land.
In all that wide, wide city there was one
only object his heart could cling to-the little
child whose arms had circled him, whose kiss
had comforted his loneliness. This was per-
haps from his own reserve, for he had been
solitary even from boy. He had never at
tached his playmates to him, he could not seek
for sympathy among strangers opening to
them the sorrows of his heart, gentle heart,
like the mother who had given him life but
he checked its longing sympathies with pride
inherited from his sterner parent, and turned to
fasting and lonely vigils of prayer and medita-
ton. Marian was the frail golden link that
bound him to active human sympathies. He
was attracted by her strange loveliness as she
came, half pleadingly, half timidly, to prefer
some request to her father, and since then she
had been the pratting companion of many a
lonely hour, when the task was ended, and
his teacher had gone forth 10 impart to other
pupils the stores Of his great learning.
She was watching for him the next day al
the entrance OF the court, as he came SLOWLY
along, absorbed in one of those distracted
moods which had now become habitual to him
Her eyes frightened as she caught sight of his
slender figure, and she ran to place her hand
In his with the confidence of an habitual favor
lite. Something which pleased her very much
had evidently occurred; but when she was
questioned, she only smiled, and said it was a
great secret; even papa was not to be told
Yet 1t was not naughty Margery had said so.
Every day after that, for long time, he found
the faithful little sentinel at her post and
sometimes their walk was extended, and she
would 60 with him into the busy street, cling
ing closer to her dear companion, and looking
up with smiles luto his face, if the crowd
jostled her, the embodiment of the spirit Of
faith. uq ~ sai ieal iaai
| y. Ar Iasf sthe sccret wac reve.led 4, r,,.