

### About the Book

Joseph Goodworthy controls his two younger sisters' lives. In his own eyes he lives a perfect Christian life: he has a wonderful understanding of doctrine, he goes to church regularly and holds household prayers every day. What more can his sisters possibly want? When the younger sister, Maria, is forty, he refuses her permission to marry Arthur Haldene, a visiting artist. On a snowy night eight years later, Maria returns to the house to seek reconciliation, accompanied by her daughter Hazel. The name Hazel means Reconciliation, and surely her brother, with his wonderful knowledge of Christian doctrine, cannot turn his sister away again.

### Hazel Haldene

### by

### Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing

Abridged Edition

Original book first published c1888

This abridged edition ©Chris Wright 2018

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-9997899-8-5

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

wtpbristol@gmail.com

Full list of books and updates on

www.whitetreepublishing.com

Hazel Haldene is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this abridged edition.

### Table of Contents

Cover

About the Book

Publisher's Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About White Tree Publishing

More Books from White Tree Publishing

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Younger Readers

Chapter l

"I WISH, Maria, that you wouldn't encourage Mr. Haldene to come here so often," said Mr. Joseph Goodworthy, as he sat at breakfast with his sisters in the long, low-ceilinged parlour of The Priory. "He is well enough to play chess with sometimes, and he can paint pictures very well, I dare say; but he holds errors of doctrine, and he cannot argue on matters of religion. I consider him very ignorant about religious things, and he has read very few of the biographies of our great divines. In a word, I don't wish him to feel himself so much at home here."

Maria looked abashed, and a faint colour crept into her cheeks, but she made no attempt to defend her friend. Miss Jane Goodworthy, on the contrary, answered her brother quickly, her tone and manner a feminine edition of his. She had no particular affection for Mr. Haldene. He had become her sister Maria's friend exclusively, but she never allowed Joseph to lay down the law in his dictatorial, self-satisfied fashion without opposing him, and arguing out the question with him.

He always had the last word, and the best of the controversy, for the dictatorial, self-satisfied spirit was stronger in him than in Jane. Moreover, he was the owner of The Priory, and allowed his sisters an annual sum of money each for their private wants. Old Mr. Goodworthy had always admired and respected his son Joseph, and trained up Jane and Maria to do the same. Mr. Joseph Goodworthy had been a professing Christian for many a year, as was the custom in his family -- as long as he fulfilled the letter of the law, did it matter that the spirit of Christianity was dead in him? So all these things considered, he considered himself entitled to the deference and respect yielded to him by those of his own household, and by many of his neighbours.

"I don't see that there is much wrong with Mr. Haldene," spoke Miss Jane. "He is a painter, certainly, and people of that profession are generally flighty and have peculiar views of right and wrong, but he seems a well-meaning and respectable person, and keeps the Sabbath strictly, and never swears. I don't understand your objection to him."

Joseph gave a preparatory cough. "Now, Jane, you try to oppose me as usual, even though I have reason on my side. I don't care for the man, and I don't wish him to be asked here. He can't talk about the crops, he can't talk about politics, he can't talk about religion. He is therefore no companion for me."

"You always consider yourself," persisted Miss Jane, unabashed. "Don't you think it possible that Maria or I might like to talk to Mr. Haldene? Variety is pleasant sometimes, and we don't get much of it in Ashwood. He may like our society, and we may like his."

Mr. Goodworthy smiled. "Men for men, and women for women," he said calmly. "No offence intended, Jane, but I believe, I really do now, that men would rather talk about wheat and politics than about housekeeping and sewing."

"This man wouldn't, at any rate, for he pays no attention to you when we are in the room, so you are not so captivating after all. And further, let me remind you that Maria and I have been educated. I know a good cow when I see it, just as well as you do; and I know the difference between a good and a bad crop of oats."

Mr. Goodworthy looked angry. He was not blessed with a very good temper, and seemed as if about to speak harshly when Maria hastily interposed.

"Mr. Haldene has gone away from Ashwood," she said timidly. "Do you think there is any need to discuss him further?"

"Not any," replied Miss Jane decidedly. "Did he say he was coming back again?"

"I ... I am not sure," answered Maria hesitatingly, while that faint pink colour again crept into her cheeks. "I don't remember exactly what he did say about that."

"Well, it doesn't make much matter," replied her sister.

The conversation then drifted into safer channels. The weather, the crops, the business of the day, each received its share of attention.

Mr. Joseph Goodworthy's grandfather and great-grandfather had been prosperous farmers, but his father had gradually sold, or given up the farmland connected with The Priory, and the farms in other counties, until there remained but a few fields round the old home, besides the gardens, and wide lawn in front of the house. The Priory was a beautiful old place, but it bore no resemblance now to a farmhouse, and Mr. Joseph Goodworthy was no farmer in the real acceptation of that term. He was very rich, for his father had hoarded money and sold his fields to the highest bidder. The old man thought that farming had become an unsafe and uncomfortable business, so he "sold out of it," to use his own expression, and left his son rich in money, instead of in lands.

But although not following in his grandfather's footsteps, Mr. Joseph Goodworthy found work enough to do, which he performed entirely to his own satisfaction. He walked round his few fields daily, and inspected the vegetables of many sorts that grew in them. He over-looked the gardener and his subordinates; he discussed the farming prospects with his neighbours; he administered advice to the townsfolk generally; and he argued on religion and "doctrine" with the clergyman with whom also he played chess of an evening.

Miss Jane had her dairy and her poultry to see after, for the dairymaid and the poultry-woman required watching; and she was also an excellent housekeeper as befitted her father's daughter, and the mistress of such a large place.

Miss Maria Goodworthy alone seemed to have no regular duties. Indeed her sister and brother left nothing for her to do. They were important members of the community, whereas she was of no use whatever, or so she told herself. It was true that she knitted warm socks and stockings, and undergarments for some poor old men and women in the little town who loved her, and liked to see her in their humble homes and liked to listen to her favourite verses from the Bible.

She begged eggs, and milk, and soup from Deborah for these same old people, and she bestowed many a penny on the schoolchildren who were never afraid of her. But what of all that? She never gave good advice, and she never tried to show the careless, thriftless poor people the error of their ways. She almost apologised to them for bringing them food and clothing, and she let them do all the talking instead of admonishing them and taking her departure after a short, dignified visit. She was known to have nursed a baby for an hour while the worried mother tidied the kitchen before her husband's return.

No one would have dared to ask Miss Jane Goodworthy to hold a baby; but then all the town stood in awe of that lady, and listened to her respectfully when she entered their houses to administer charity, and reproof, even though they were glad in their hearts that her visits were so few and far between.

Considering, then, that Miss Maria Goodworthy had so much spare time, it was no wonder that Arthur Haldene, an artist who was staying in the town for the purpose of painting some wonderful bit of scenery in the neighbourhood, should be thrown into her society very much when he went to The Priory in the morning or afternoon, and that she should show him some curious tree, or bit of colouring for which the place was noted. Mr. Goodworthy and Miss Jane entertained him in the evenings, but he had Maria all to himself in the mornings.

None of The Priory family was very young, and none of them had ever been very good-looking, except perhaps Maria, and her beauty was somewhat faded now, for she was forty years of age, and more. Joseph and Jane were respectively ten and eight years her seniors.

But though Maria was not a girl, her faded prettiness and gentle manners had a certain charm for the artist, who was himself no longer a young man, and he liked to idle away the morning hours in her company. She, good, simple creature, thought him a great artist, and a very learned man; but he was neither the one nor the other. He generally made enough money from the sale of his pictures to support himself, but sometimes he found it difficult enough to make both ends meet.

He was given to dreaming rather than to working, and he was easily cast down by non-success. When he was unable to find a purchaser for his pictures he abandoned himself to despair and idleness for months, and then he recommenced the struggle. As such a worker is seldom crowned with success, and he never became either famous or rich.

When breakfast was over, the master of the house took his hat and went out to the gardens. Miss Jane Goodworthy held a consultation with Deborah, who was cook and under-housekeeper, and Maria stood listening to her sister's words, her thoughts far away. Presently Deborah went to the kitchen, and Miss Goodworthy said to Maria, "If Mr. Haldene returns to Ashwood we must not encourage him to visit here. It is very evident that our brother Joseph does not care for him. When he comes in of a morning you must be too busy to go out with him. I really wish you took more interest in household matters."

"But, Jane," remonstrated Maria, mildly, "doesn't it seem a pity to close our doors against such a pleasant visitor? We have not much society here. We never had even in father or mother's time."

"That is true," assented Miss Jane, somewhat gloomily, "but we must not anger Joseph too much. Mr. Haldene is no company for our brother. It would be difficult to find one fit for him, you know, Maria, he is so clever and good. Of course he likes to have his own way, most men do, but his way is always the right one -- though I do often oppose him, as he says."

"He surely does have his own way," returned Maria, sadly; "and he won't let anyone convince him that he could ever be wrong."

"I argue with him always, and don't sit silently listening to him as you do."

"But what is the good of arguing with him? He listens to you, and answers you; but he believes that he is right still, and you are wrong. You know you never make him change his opinion about anything, or anybody."

"Well, what if I don't?" answered Miss Jane sharply. "He is a good brother to us, and a good neighbour. There is no harm in his being a little dogmatic."

Maria sighed. How could she explain all that was passing in her mind to this sister who was also "a little dogmatic"?

"What does it matter, after all, whether we see Mr. Haldene again, or not?" went on Miss Goodworthy, after a short silence. "I don't think he can be worth much, or he would have made a name for himself long ago."

"It is not so easy to make a name in the great world," replied Maria, somewhat defiantly. "We have never lived out of Ashwood, so we cannot judge such men as Arthur Haldene."

Miss Jane stared at her sister in amazement. "The great world, indeed!" she echoed in contemptuous tones. "It is composed chiefly of hypocrites, as our brother says. Clergymen and Christians alike are often hypocrites. Who is Arthur Haldene, I should like to know? A poor artist! Our people have all been rich farmers. Would you consider doctors, and lawyers, and artists, and storywriters as good in any respect as farmers? I can't think why you should take this man's part so warmly. You never do talk much to him when he is here."

Maria trembled. Should she tell her sister all the truth concerning Arthur Haldene and herself? Jane was so matter-of-fact, and so opposed to matrimony, that she would receive the news with incredulity and scorn.

"Well, well, let us say 'goodbye' to Arthur Haldene," concluded Miss Jane Goodworthy, turning to leave the room. "We shall probably never see him again now that he has gone back to London."

"Oh yes, we will see him again, that is ... I believe he is coming back," said Maria, the pink flush which the conversation had brought into her cheeks deepening into a crimson blush which made her look years younger as she spoke.

Miss Jane stopped short and gazed at her in some wonderment. "I don't understand you this morning, Maria. I thought you did not know whether he was coming back to Ashwood."

"I didn't remember exactly what he said about coming back," stammered Maria, growing still further confused, "but I am sure he is coming back some time soon."

"You are sure!"

"Yes, for he told me so."

"Well, what if he does return? He is nothing to us now, when Joseph objects to our receiving him here. What is the matter with your face? You look as if you had been sitting over the fire for an hour."

"Jane," spoke Maria, entreatingly, taking no notice of that last question, "do listen to me a minute, and don't frighten and confuse me with your questions. I am sure you love me, and want to see me happy. Before Mr. Haldene went away he asked me to marry him."

Such an unexpected announcement fairly took Miss Goodworthy's breath away; and Deborah who was coming into the parlour in search of her mistress overheard the last words and retreated hastily into the kitchen, a broad smile lighting up her homely features.

"Of course you told him that you had no intention of marrying, that you were over forty, and had put such nonsense out of your mind;" said Miss Goodworthy, as soon as her amazement and consternation allowed her to speak.

"I told him to ask Joseph about it," replied the younger sister faintly.

"You did? Oh, Joseph will answer him plainly enough. The idea of such a thing!"

"But I like Mr. Haldene. I don't want Joseph to send him away."

"You don't mean to say that you would dream of marrying him? You heard Joseph's opinion. Accustomed to Joseph's society, surely you could not put up with a life companion whose inferiority is so manifest? You are only talking romantic nonsense. You are not at all practical, Maria, more's the pity. But don't let your dreaming lead you into downright ungrateful folly. We are comfortably off, thanks to our brother. We have an assured position, and we have the wisdom and commonsense of Joseph to guide us. These are all great advantages when one has left the years of girlhood behind."

"I am not so very old," put in Maria timidly.

"Nonsense, Maria. Perhaps the man thinks you will have money. Never was a greater mistake. Joseph will give you nothing if you prefer another man to him. There, we are both talking folly. Of course you would not seriously think of marrying. Let me hear no more about such foolishness, such ingratitude."

There was some of the Goodworthy nature in Maria, and her sister's last words roused it into active life. "As you say, Jane, I am old enough to choose my own husband, and to shape my future as I please."

"I said nothing of the sort," almost screamed Miss Jane.

"You said I was no longer a girl, nor am I; but I am not as old as you yet." With this last remark Maria hastily left the room.

Miss Jane Goodworthy, in much perturbation of spirit, went to her pantry where she usually saw to the accounts and made her arrangements for the day. Since the death of her parents she had not been so disturbed in mind. What would Joseph say to him when Mr. Haldene spoke to him about that foolish Maria?

"If you please, Miss Jane, I heard what Miss Maria said just now about Mr. Haldene," said Deborah, coming to the pantry with some butter for her mistress' inspection. "I couldn't help hearing it, and I was pleased at the news."

### Chapter 2

DEBORAH was an old servant who had been in the Goodworthy family when Miss Jane Goodworthy and her sister were children, therefore she was privileged to speak in a fashion not usually permitted to servants. She was honest and upright, and loved her master and mistresses in her own way, and placed their interests before all others, but she was not blind to their faults.

Mr. Goodworthy and his sisters knew they could not replace Deborah. They acknowledged to each other that no money could adequately requite her for her services, so they respected her and allowed her to do pretty much as she liked.

"You are pleased to hear that Miss Maria seems inclined to make a fool of herself? I am surprised at you, Deborah," answered Miss Goodworthy reproachfully.

"I don't see that she's going to make a fool of herself. Mr. Haldene's a proper enough man, and will be a nice husband, I'm sure."

"But why does Miss Maria want to marry?" questioned Miss Goodworthy, impatiently. "Haven't we Joseph? Isn't he enough for us? Mr. Haldene isn't like Joseph."

"Dear forbid that all men were made on the same pattern," ejaculated Deborah. "I don't mean anything disrespectful, Miss Jane, but you know, Miss, some likes one sort and some likes another sort. Mr. Joseph has always had a deal of praise, and a deal of his own way, and he's grown a bit masterful, and thinks himself better than most folks. That's the right down truth, Miss Jane, and 'tisn't everyone would like that description of person, no matter how good he was. Take an old woman's advice: let Miss Maria marry Mr. Haldene if she has a mind to do so."

Three days afterwards Mr. Goodworthy walked hastily into the parlour of The Priory, where Miss Jane sat placidly sewing.

"I never was so annoyed in my life," he announced angrily. "That artist fellow, Haldene, met me just now in the avenue and asked me to give him Maria in marriage. I told him never to show his face in the place again. I suppose he thinks Maria is rich. He'll soon find out his mistake."

"What did he say when you refused him Maria?" asked Miss Jane, secretly startled lest her brother should discover that she knew anything of this audacious proposal.

"Say? I don't know what he said. Yes, I believe he hinted that Maria was willing to marry him, and that she was old enough to know her own mind, and be her own mistress. I'll speak to Maria once for all on this subject. Ah, here she comes! I met your friend Mr. Haldene a short time ago, Maria, and I forbid you to speak to him again, or mention his name in my presence. He is not fit to be your husband. In fact, you want no husband at all. So let there be forever an end of that subject. You and Jane know me, Maria; you know that I mean what I say."

Thereupon Mr. Goodworthy quitted the room with a stern, wrathful countenance.

"I told you how it would be, Maria," said Miss Jane angrily. "You were weak and sentimental to allow Mr. Haldene to mention such a thing to Joseph. See how angry our brother is."

"He has no right to be angry," declared Maria, bursting into tears. "Arthur is a kind, good man, and I don't understand why I may not marry him."

"Oh don't talk anymore about it. You are incapable of judging in the matter."

With a half contemptuous, wholly pitying glance at her sister, Miss Jane left the room.

Three weeks after Mr. Goodworthy had been so annoyed by Mr. Haldene, on a bright afternoon early in December, Maria left Ashwood for London, accompanied by her husband. As Mr. Goodworthy would not give his consent to the marriage, and as Miss Jane Goodworthy agreed with her brother that Maria was wrong to think of the artist as a husband, Mr. Haldene persuaded Maria to marry him in the little church of Ashwood, without trying to regain the favour of the master of The Priory. There was no wedding breakfast, of course, and Mr. and Mrs. Haldene started for London shortly after the ceremony was over.

All Ashwood knew what had taken place, and the townsfolk openly or secretly, according to their dispositions, applauded the clergyman for performing the ceremony regardless of Mr. Goodworthy's wish that he should not do so. The master of The Priory was deeply offended with the Reverend John Hewson, and refused to hold any further communication with him, declaring that he had not behaved as a Christian and a gentleman in the matter.

"I'm glad Miss Maria married Mr. Haldene," said Deborah, heartily, to Miss Goodworthy when she heard the news. "There's nothing against Mr. Haldene's moral character, nor against him any way that I can find out, so where's the sin in taking him for a husband? It's just jealousy that ails the master. The idea of anybody being preferred before him has wounded his self-love. It's the truth, Miss Jane, even though the master is a good man. Bless you, we've all our failings, and there's no harm done if we don't carry them too far and hurt other folks."

"You don't understand," reproved Miss Jane, severely. "Never let me hear you speak of your master in that fashion, and never mention Mrs. Haldene's name as long as you remain in The Priory."

"I won't promise such an unchristian thing, so there, Miss Jane."

### Chapter 3

ON a bright December afternoon, eight years after Miss Maria Goodworthy's marriage, that lady sat in her parlour in London with her little daughter Hazel. When the child was born, the mother wished her to be named Hazel, which signified reconciliation, "for who knows but our little daughter may be the means of reconciling our brother and sister to us," she said to her husband.

Since his marriage everything had changed for the better with Arthur Haldene. He worked more industriously at his pictures in order to maintain his wife in comfort, and when Hazel was born he redoubled his exertions. They still lived in lodgings, for Maria wished to save money for her child. It was quite wonderful to see the energy the mother displayed. She seemed to have given up dreaming altogether, and the faraway look in her eyes had given place to a happy, contented light that glowed steadily always.

When her husband one day laughingly remarked on the great change in her, she said gently, "Perhaps I don't dream so much because my dreams are nearly all realized. But you are mistaken, dear. I do dream sometimes still. I think at night in bed, when you are asleep, of how kind God has been to me. I am not a good Christian like Joseph, and I am afraid I know very little about doctrine, or about those other learned subjects that Joseph used to discuss with the clergyman, and with you. But I believe God remembers that I never had much brains, or much practical commonsense, and Jesus forgives all my shortcomings, for He is my Saviour. I can't teach Hazel much about religion. She must just love God with all her heart, and love her neighbour as herself. That is all I have ever understood about the doctrines of Christianity."

"Isn't that the whole thing?"

"I don't think it is," she replied, simply. "When the Ashwood men used to get drunk, I wasn't able to reprove them as Joseph and Jane did. I could only feel sorry for them, and for their wives and children. I actually cried over one man who behaved very badly, and he certainly did sign the pledge the next day. Jane said I was very silly and undignified, and no doubt I was, for you know I was not a young girl. And then I never could argue with people who said God was cruel, and unjust, or that there was no God. Their loss in thinking such things seemed to me to be so great that I was overwhelmed at the bare idea. I could only tell them how I felt, and then leave them out in that awful darkness -- without God. No, no, we must try and teach Hazel something more than her mother knows."

"Well, I will be content if she has her mother's Christianity in her heart," concluded Mr. Haldene, as he kissed the child's fair, happy face.

On this afternoon, as Mrs. Haldene listened to Hazel's chatter, she was wondering how her sister Jane could return her letter unopened, the letter which contained such an earnest appeal for reconciliation, and such an interesting account of little Hazel's wonderful sayings and doings. As she was thus engaged, a visitor was announced.

"Oh Miss Bird, I am glad to see you. Sit down there in that armchair. Hazel is glad to see you too. Arthur is out, but I expect him in shortly. He has finished that last picture, 'A Village Home,' and has found a purchaser for it too."

"I am sorry it has been sold," replied the little lady as she stooped down and kissed Hazel. "I did love that picture so much. It used to put such nice thoughts into my head, my dear. I believe I shall go some day to Ashwood and set up shop there. You say there are numbers of well-to-do people in and about the little town, so I would find a sale for my books and crockery."

Miss Bird was a pretty little lady of an uncertain age, very energetic, and very talkative. She was shrewd and sensible as a rule, and she knew how to make money, and keep it too. But she was quite crazy on the subject of painting on china, and on old china generally, so people said. She was not by any means poor or dependent on her curious shop. She thought she could paint beautifully, and she had one great ambition. She hoped one day to be able to paint a large picture on china, representing some scene in the life of Christ, and which would be so lovely and touching that all those who looked upon it would turn to Him, and love and serve Him for the remainder of their lives.

Her home was always deficient in chairs and tables, and in the ordinary furniture necessary in a house, but she had rare old plates and dishes on the walls; cups and saucers on brackets; entire tea sets and dinner sets on tables and cabinets; and old cracked bowls and jugs everywhere. No doubt she would have been much more comfortable with less crockery, and more chairs and tables; but she regarded tables, and cabinets, and even chairs as useful chiefly for stands on which to place her precious china.

The people about her said she was as cracked as her jugs and bowls. She laughed sometimes, perhaps a little sadly, when she heard their opinion of her.

"I am not so mad as to sell them a shilling book for sixpence," she would say.

In truth, there was some reason in the general verdict concerning her sanity, for she could not paint at all. She daubed plate after plate, and dish after dish, thinking she was painting a picture; but after each attempt even she confessed that she had failed to produce a good result. Nevertheless she did not despair. She hoped that patience and perseverance would overcome all difficulties; and meanwhile she bought all the old china that took her fancy, and made excursions north and south, wherever she heard of a sale, and brought back with her some wonderful cup, or bowl, or some quaint figure in Dresden china.

Arthur Haldene and Miss Bird had been friends for many years, and he often paid a visit to the bookshop in Wells Street, and drank a cup of tea in the little spinster's peculiarly furnished parlour. When he brought his wife to London he introduced her to Miss Bird, and the two ladies soon became companions. Maria was not in the least afraid of her husband's strange friend, and never avoided her as her neighbours did, and indignantly refused to believe that she was crazy.

When Miss Bird said she would go to Ashwood some day, Mrs. Haldene sighed gently, and glanced lovingly at Hazel. How could anyone, especially her sister, refuse to read a letter about that dear little girl?

"I don't think you would like Ashwood very much, Miss Bird. You would find it very quiet after London. There are some moneyed people living round it, I know, but we seldom visited anybody. There is the clergyman, and there are two doctors and a lawyer or two, and a lady who keeps a large boarding school, and some rich farmers within a few miles of the town."

"I would not be lonelier there than I am here. The people are afraid of me because I am supposed to be crazy. They come into the shop and buy books and pictures gladly, for they can't get anything so pretty elsewhere for the same money, but they don't like to have anything further to say to me. Oh I don't mind their neglect, for people generally don't understand me, and I don't understand them. You and your husband are my friends, and our precious little Hazel too. I don't want any others. But I came today especially to say that I am going to Yorkshire for a week or two. There is to be a sale in a gentleman's house there, and I am told that he has some very rare old china. I really must go and buy something, if everything is not too dear."

"Who will attend to the shop in the meantime?"

"I will shut it up until I return. The people must do without books and pictures for a while. They will appreciate them all the more because they can't have them for a week or two. I often shut up shop in this way. I am going this evening. Please tell Mr. Haldene; he will be wondering where I am."

"Yes, I will tell him. We shall miss you, shan't we, Hazel? Hazel likes to look at those great picture books you have in that old cupboard upstairs in your house, and she likes milk out of that pretty mug you let her use."

"I am going to give Hazel that mug," said Miss Bird, "and I have bought a nice chair for her to sit on. I have bought a cushioned armchair for you too, dear Mrs. Haldene. When you come and have tea with me on my return you will be more comfortable than you used to be. I know I haven't chairs enough, but what is the use of chairs? You haven't been looking quite so well of late, so I thought you must have a comfortable chair. Mr. Haldene told me you had a cough, and I can see that you are thin and worn."

"I have taken a slight cold," replied Mrs. Haldene smilingly. "It was very kind of you to buy me a chair, and to buy one for Hazel too. Everyone is kind to me. Our landlady brought me up such a nice cup of tea this morning. I was lazy, I am afraid, and Arthur encouraged me to lie in bed."

"I don't like your landlady," declared the little spinster, with such unexpected energy that Hazel stared solemnly into her face in amazement, and Mrs. Haldene exclaimed, "Dear me!" in faint accents.

"There, I've startled you as usual by my abrupt manner. But just let me explain what I mean. That woman looks at Hazel as if she would be harsh and unkind to her if she had anything to do with her. Don't let Hazel be with her at all. Keep the child with yourself. Now I must say goodbye. Kiss me, child. Don't forget your friend until she comes back again. Did you hear from Miss Goodworthy, Mrs. Haldene?"

"She returned my letter unopened," answered Mrs. Haldene, tears filling her eyes.

"Never mind, it will all come right. Little Reconciliation here will unite you and your family. I must say, that for one who follows Christ, your sister's behaviour is strange. Nowhere does Christ set us such an example, I am sure. I often think that I ought not to be sorry I am a little peculiar. It seems to me that people who are quite sane, people who are Christians, do very strange and mad things."

### Chapter 4

AFTER Miss Bird's departure, Mrs. Haldene waited patiently for her husband for some time longer, but at last she began to grow uneasy. He never did stay away for more than a couple of hours at a time. What was detaining him now? The short December day drew to a close, gas was lighted in the parlour, Hazel began to grow sleepy, and her mother put her to bed, and still the artist did not come.

Just when she had determined to go out and look for him, though she had no idea where he might be, the frightened wife heard heavy steps on the stairs, the parlour door was opened, and the landlady entered.

"Mr. Haldene had an accident," the woman announced hurriedly; "the men are carrying him to the bedroom. He fell and broke his arm, and hurt his head. I've sent for a doctor."

With a sinking heart and trembling limbs, Mrs. Haldene hastened upstairs.. Her husband had been laid on the bed, and the men were leaving the room as she went in.

"Only a slight h'accident, mum," they said cheerfully. "The gentleman will be all right when the doctor sees him."

"Is that you, Maria?'' whispered Mr. Haldene. "Come here, dear. You'll find the money for the picture in my coat pocket. Take it, and lock it carefully away. We have not very much to spare, and I am afraid I am going to be very ill. My head aches, and my back and arms are painful. Poor Maria! I am so sorry, dear. You will be obliged to nurse me, for we cannot very well afford a nurse."

"Don't talk so, Arthur. Of course I will nurse you. Even if we could afford it, I would not have a paid nurse. You will soon get well, and meantime, I must show you how able I am, and how noiselessly I can go about a sick room."

It was many a day before Mr. Haldene recognized his wife again, or spoke one coherent word. Fever had taken hold of him when his head and arm had been attended to by the doctor, and he lay tossing on his pillow, delirious for weeks afterwards.

At last a morning dawned when he was in his right mind once more, but the doctor said it was a sign he would die. Mrs. Haldene would not believe the kind-hearted man when he told her that her husband would die. She was very angry with him for saying such a thing. "My Arthur die? It is a mistake, doctor. What would Hazel and I do without him? Say it is not true, dear," she went on, falling down beside her husband's bed after the doctor's departure, and covering his wasted hands with kisses. "You are better? How could Hazel and her poor, foolish mother get on without you?"

"I am better in a sense," he answered faintly. "I know you and Hazel, and I believe the fever has left me, but it has taken my life with it. The doctor is right, my dear wife. Let me help you as long as I am left with you now. I am sure you have very little money. Illness is such an expensive thing. As soon as I am gone, take Hazel and go to Ashwood to your sister. She will perhaps receive you when I am out of the way altogether. Keep your lodgings on here until you have been to The Priory. You know all the furniture of our rooms is yours. Should your brother and sister still prove stubborn, there is Miss Bird. She is well off, and she has been my friend for a long time. Go to her, she will advise and assist you. You must be very careful of any little money you have. Remember the lodging house woman has to be paid. You must try and keep this roof, at least, over your head. It would have been better, after all, if you had never married me. I have brought only sorrow and trouble to my dear wife."

Maria drew his head into her arms, and caressed his pale, wan face, and murmured loving words to him. "You have been my comfort, and my happiness. You brought real love and joy into my life. Why could not I have had it for always, and not for a few years?" she added wistfully. "I suppose God lent you to me for a while. In Heaven there will be no lending, it will be happiness all the time. You are going to Heaven, my dear husband."

"Yes," the artist answered humbly. "The blood of Jesus is powerful enough to cleanse all sin. You know I turned to your God years ago. He will not forsake me now. I will expect to see you and Hazel by and by: you first, and Hazel after. Teach her to love our God with all her heart."

Three days afterwards Arthur Haldene died.

When some weeks had passed, Mrs. Haldene took Hazel with her and set out for Ashwood. She went to Wells Street first, and found that Miss Bird had not yet returned from Yorkshire. The caretaker, who always had charge of the house in its mistress' absence, told Mrs. Haldene that she was afraid Miss Bird must be ill, for she had never been away so long from her home before without sending some message.

It was a cold, snowy day in February, and as Mrs. Haldene continued her journey, she shivered under her insufficient wraps, and wished she had been able to provide a warmer jacket for Hazel. The truth was, the poor widow had very little money left after the doctor's bill had been paid.

Mrs. Hill, the lodging house woman, had presented a lengthy account for nourishing food which she maintained had been supplied by her during Mr. Haldene's illness, and which was for the sick man as well as his family. Mrs. Haldene was puzzled as well as dismayed when she saw the amount of the bill. She was conscious that her husband had partaken of very little food of any kind, and that she and Hazel could not have used such a quantity as was set down. However, Mrs. Hill had been always most obliging and attentive, or Mrs. Haldene thought so, and the bill was paid without demur.

The journey from London to Ashwood was a long one, and little Hazel grew very cold and very tired and hungry before the end of it. At last The Priory was reached. It was eight years since Maria had walked up the familiar avenue which led to her childhood's home, and some changes were to be expected, but she did not expect the place to have looked so lonely and deserted.

It made her sad to see that some of the fine trees had been cut down, and that the house and grounds generally, as much as she could see of them, seemed neglected and uncared for. Things used not to be so in the old days. Unconsciously, the chilling, depressing atmosphere caused her courage to fail her somewhat, and the white, blinding snow shower made her stumble and shiver as she knocked at The Priory door. It was opened by a stranger, a tall, cross-looking woman.

"Is your mistress at home?"

"Yes ... ma'am," answered the servant, adding the "ma'am" in a doubtful sort of fashion as she eyed Mrs. Haldene's scanty attire.

"Will you please to tell her that Mrs. Haldene is here with her daughter, and wishes to see her?"

The woman went away, leaving Maria standing outside the door. Miss Jane Goodworthy herself came to the door and looked with cold, stern eyes at her sister when told of the reason for the visit.

"Joseph thought I had better speak to you once for all, and put a stop to this unpleasantness," she said in calm, measured accents. "When you married Mr. Haldene you chose between him and us. We heard that your husband is dead, but that makes no difference. We wish to have nothing to do either with you or your child. You did wrong, and now you are clearly suffering for it. Wrongdoing and hypocrisy always bring their punishment, even in this world. Do not trouble yourself to communicate again with any of the members of your former home. You and your child are strangers to us. What a pity you came out such a wintry day. Good evening."

"Mother, I thought we were coming to see Aunt Jane. You said this was your old home, and that when we would see Aunt Jane we'd have a fire, and something to eat, because Aunt Jane was good, and your own, own sister. Who is this unkind, wicked woman?"

"Hush, Hazel, this is Aunt Jane," moaned poor Mrs. Haldene feebly.

Hazel stared in incredulous astonishment at the grim, unyielding figure in the doorway, at the hard, scornful face. Miss Goodworthy shrank back from the child's gaze as if she had been suddenly dealt a heavy blow, and shut the door sharply on mother and daughter.

A tearless, despairing sob rose to the widow's lips, and she turned away with faltering steps from the closed door.

"Come, Hazel, we must hurry to the railway station. We will both be ill if we remain much longer in this snow."

Hazel obediently put her hand into her mother's and walked silently by her side, pondering over many things in her old-fashioned, quaint way. She was a child with a good deal of Mr. Joseph Goodworthy's determined spirit rather than of her mother's gentle disposition; but constant interaction with that gentle, affectionate mother had prevented her uncle's dogmatism and selfishness from springing up in her heart.

When at length Mrs. Haldene and Hazel reached their lodgings in London, the former was obliged to go to bed, where she remained for many days afterwards. Her cough, and the pain in her side increased rapidly, and the fitful pink colour in her cheeks became crimson and burned always in them now. She could not consult a doctor, for she had no money to pay him. Indeed, she had no money to pay Mrs. Hill or to buy food for herself and Hazel.

She did not know how to make any money. She had learned to paint a little, and her husband had taught her to paint Christmas cards, which he said she did very capably; but who would give her payment for such work? The shop windows were always full of lovely cards at Christmastime, much nicer than ever she could do; but often many of them were left unsold when Christmas Day was over. How could she support herself and Hazel?

At length she told Mrs. Hill the true state of affairs.

"Don't trouble yourself for a while, ma'am, until you get stronger," answered the woman, in apparently kind, pitying tones. "I'll manage for you till you're able to manage for yourself. Oh, we poor folks are used to lots of tricks to make both ends meet. You've plenty of furniture in your rooms. You won't want Mr. Haldene's painting room any longer. We'll begin with that. By the time that's stripped you'll be stronger and better able to look about you. Of course I'll bring the money to you, and you can use it to pay me, and get plenty of food for yourself and the child."

"I don't understand," murmured Mrs. Haldene, wonderingly.

"No, ma'am, how should you? It's only us poor folks as understands them sort of things. I'll take the furniture, article by article, out of the painting room and pawn it. When you get money again, you can redeem it all. I take the things to a place where the man lends me money on them. Don't you see, ma'am? And the things are yours again when you gives back the money."

Maria did not see very plainly, but she thought Mrs. Hill was very kind to take such trouble for her, and she thanked her accordingly.

"No thanks at all, ma'am," replied the woman, cheerfully. "Just you keep up your spirits, and try and get well, and leave everything else to me. There's plenty of things in the rooms that I can take. Lots of ornaments, and such like useless things that you'll never miss. Oh, I'll manage nicely for you, and you needn't be grieving about it, for you can get them all back from the man whenever you want to."

Mrs. Haldene thought over the woman's words after she had left the room, but she could not quite understand them even then. At last she came to the conclusion that there were some very odd customs in London, and that Mrs. Hill was very kind indeed to borrow money for her on such strange security. She would be very sorry to let any of her husband's furniture leave the rooms even for a time, but she and Hazel must live until she grew stronger.

So Mrs. Hill emptied the dead artist's painting room very speedily, and gave a portion of the money thus obtained to Mrs. Haldene. She kept nearly half of it for herself, but this she did not tell her lodgers. She considered it was only her due for all the bother she had in disposing of the furniture. Maria wondered that she received such small sums of money. She thought that everything her husband had possessed had been valuable, and when Mrs. Hill took some of the ornaments from the bedroom mantelpiece in order to get money, the sick lady ventured to make a remark on the subject.

"That china boy is Dresden, Mrs. Hill, and very valuable. I know it is, for Miss Bird told me, and she is an authority on china."

"It may be valuable, ma'am, and I don't deny that it is, but second-hand articles never fetch much money compared with what they cost when they were new. Begging your pardon, ma'am, but isn't the lady you call Miss Bird a little odd in her head? She wouldn't know much about anything. But of course I'll do my best with the things. I was thinking I was pleasing you, and that you were satisfied with the way I was going on," concluded the woman, somewhat reproachfully.

"Indeed you are pleasing me," cried Mrs. Haldene hastily. "You must not think that I am finding fault with you. I would be very ungrateful if I did such a thing. Only money seems to go such a very short way now I have to manage it. What shall we do when all the things we can spare are gone?"

"Oh never think of that time," returned Mrs. Hill, soothingly. "You'll be well and able to stir out before then. Little Miss, here, will soon be able to help you in some way."

"I would help mother if only I knew what to do," declared the child earnestly.

A faint smile came to Mrs. Haldene's lips. "Why child you are only seven years old. There is no work for such young workers. You should have nothing but lessons and play, for a long time to come."

"Then indeed plenty of children as young as this one help their mothers in some way or other. I'm sure I could find some employment for her."

"No, no, Mrs. Hill, let us say no more about such nonsense. Hazel is only a child. What would her father say to my sending his daughter to make money for me?"

"Well, ma'am, no offence meant. Certainly it's only poor folks' children that begin work so early in life. Mr. Haldene was a gentleman, so of course the child must not work."

"I am afraid we are poor folks, but we will wait a little longer before I let Hazel work. If only I could grow stronger. I seem to become weaker and weaker every day, and the longer I lie in bed of a morning the weaker I become."

"Oh, you'll get better when the warm days are here," spoke the woman as she was leaving the room, but in her heart she thought her lodger never would get better until she was laid in a grave.

<><><><>

On that snowy day in February when Miss Goodworthy shut her sister out in the cold, Deborah, the old housekeeper, was standing in her mistress's pantry waiting for that lady to come and give some orders for the following day. She heard a knock at the hall door, and then she heard her mistress go to the door, and after a few minutes' delay shut it and return to the parlour.

"Why doesn't Miss Jane come?" she muttered impatiently. "This is a cold room to stand in. Heart alive, who's that going down the avenue? If I didn't know it was impossible, I'd say it was dear Miss Maria. She's in London safe and sound with her husband, but that's her very figure, and walk. She's not a widow, and she's not poor; and that poor thing's both one and the other. Heaven help her, whoever she is, for she'll get no help here. Why doesn't Miss Jane come?"

Miss Goodworthy entered the pantry at that moment, and gave her orders in an irritable, confused fashion, most unusual with her.

"Now what's put Miss Jane out?" mentally queried Deborah. "That poor creature begging annoyed her, I suppose."

"You are not attending to me, Deborah. My brother says we must have a padlock put on the outer gate so that strangers may not come in. He can't see after it himself, his cold is so bad. Will you tell Watson about it."

"Yes, ma'am. But how will visitors come in if the big gate is fastened?"

"You know we have very few visitors," answered Miss Jane impatiently. "My brother doesn't care for Mr. Hewson, and he meets the farmers and others in the town. We are both growing indifferent to all society. We are not so young as we were, and at any time too much society is bad."

"You were not always of that way of thinking, Miss Jane," said Deborah, quietly. "You and the master are just miserable since Miss Maria went away, no matter what you say to the contrary. I wonder she hasn't written, or taken any notice of her own people all these years. I must confess I didn't expect that of Miss Maria. She was very tender-hearted."

"How dare you speak so, Deborah!" cried Miss Goodworthy, indignantly. "We are not miserable without Maria. She was an ungrateful, foolish woman. She deserves the punishment she has got."

Deborah dropped the plate she was holding, and stared at her mistress.

"Yes, you may stare," went on Miss Jane, wrathfully. "Maria was here a few minutes ago, a most miserable-looking object in her widow's weeds. Came to us with her child, indeed! We were to take her in and provide for her because she and Hazel were starving. She did write to us many a time, but we properly took no notice of her letters. She christened the child Hazel, indeed, because the name means reconciliation. As if we would be reconciled to Mrs. Haldene. It is no question of reconciliation. She did wrong, and she has suffered for it. We warned her, but she paid no attention to us."

"You never turned your own sister and her child from your door on such a night as this!" exclaimed the horror-stricken old servant. "Surely your hearts have grown hard as stone. You've been harbouring ill will and uncharitableness all these years, till you don't know right from wrong. Poor dear Miss Maria! The gentle soul will have got her death blow this night. She'll never understand how you could turn her away. I must go and look for her, and get her a shelter of some sort. It's an awful night to be wandering about the roads!"

Before Miss Goodworthy could say a word, Deborah had rushed out, seized a shawl and umbrella, and sallied forth in quest of her poor Miss Maria.

In an hour's time she returned wet and tired, but with the knowledge that it was very likely mother and child were safe in the train on their way to London. She did not communicate this last to Miss Jane when that lady summoned her into the presence of her master to give an explanation of her audacious conduct.

"It's no use talking to me, Mr. Joseph," she said defiantly. "I don't think you and Miss Jane were right, or have been right all along about Miss Maria. You may turn me away if you like, for speaking my mind so plain. I'd be sorry to go, for I've been a long time in The Priory; but just think how you'd like to be travelling about the road on such a night as this."

Mr. Goodworthy did not dismiss Deborah from his service, but he was very angry, and offended; and he cautioned Miss Goodworthy never to repeat any of the old servant's remarks to him again, and never to listen to them herself.

For many and many a night afterwards Miss Jane imagined she saw her sister wandering about the lonely country roads in the cold and snow, the child Hazel by her side, and she tried in vain to shut out the haunting vision.

### Chapter 5

AS the months passed, Mrs. Haldene grew no better, and the furniture in the rooms diminished so rapidly that at last only the bed, a chair, and a little table remained in the bedroom, while the dressing room which had been Hazel's bedroom, and the parlour were perfectly empty. In a short time there would really be nothing to pawn. The painting room and parlour had been given up to Mrs. Hill, poor Maria finding it difficult enough to pay the rent of the bedroom.

Other lodgers had taken the vacated rooms, and Mrs. Hill often grumbled over the annoyance of being obliged to leave her work in the kitchen to answer the hall door bell so often. She wished that she had a little daughter of her own to open the door and run up and down the stairs for her. She told Mrs. Haldene it would save her so much time, and rest her tired feet which often ached at night going to bed.

Mrs. Haldene sympathized with the woman, while wondering privately why she did not hire some poor girl who would gladly perform such slight service for a few pence a day.

Hazel pondered seriously over the matter, and finally said to her mother, "Couldn't I open the door for Mrs. Hill, and run up and down stairs for her? We won't have any money soon, and then what will we do? Perhaps she would let us stay on here, and give us food until you get well, if I helped her downstairs."

Tears rushed to Maria's eyes. "No, no, Hazel, you are too young. I will offer to help Mrs. Hill in the kitchen. I can't run up and down stairs, but I could cook, and I suppose I could wash dishes, and I think I have strength enough left to brush a floor."

"You, mother?" said Hazel in surprise. "When you get up in the morning and dress yourself you have no breath left to eat your breakfast. How could you stand over a hot fire, and cook dinner for five or six people? No, let me help Mrs. Hill for a while. I could do it, but you couldn't."

Mrs. Haldene kissed the child, and after some more persuasion consented reluctantly to her proposal.

Hazel went down to the kitchen duly impressed with a sense of her own importance. She was going to help her mother; she was going to earn food and a home for her mother. Perhaps never in all her short life had she felt so happy, and certainly never had she felt so dignified. What would kind Miss Bird say when she got to know about this? She would perhaps want to pay Mrs. Hill, and so prevent her, Hazel, from working. No, no, that would never do. It would be so pleasant to work for food, and a shelter.

Mrs. Hill accepted Hazel's offer gladly, though she said her services would not be enough in return for food, and the room. The child declared her willingness to do all in her power for Mrs. Hill.

"Oh well, we'll see how it will do," said the woman slowly. "I can't keep you with me all day, for your mother will be grumbling -- sick people are so unreasonable and selfish."

"Mother isn't selfish, and she never grumbles," cried Hazel hotly.

"Softly, child! If you want to be my little servant you must keep a civil tongue in your head, and never answer me back in that way, no matter what I say. Remember I'm giving you and your mother a good deal more than you're giving me."

The woman's tone had grown more insolent since Mrs. Haldene's furniture had all disappeared.

"I could get a girl for a few pence a week that would do me very well, and I could get your room well let tomorrow if your mother wasn't in it. So none of your nonsense, child. Be thankful that I don't turn you out into the streets. There, I've done now. If you work well for me, I'll let you stay in the room, and I'll see what I can spare in the way of food every day. I believe it would kill your mother outright to change her lodging now. So keep a civil and obliging tongue in your head, young one, and don't kill your mother. Go up and put on a pinafore, and come back to me in a few minutes."

Feeling crushed, and rather miserable, Hazel slowly ascended the stairs. The prospect of working under that sharp-tongued woman did not seem so inviting to her now. Indeed she would have been glad if something had occurred to prevent her becoming Mrs. Hill's little maid. But she resolved to hide her feelings from her mother; she resolved to try and please Mrs. Hill in order that her sick mother might be allowed to remain in the only home she had in the world.

How everything had changed since her father went to Heaven, thought the child. When he was with them they had plenty to eat and drink, plenty of nice clothes to wear, and comfortable rooms to live in. Mrs. Hill was very obliging, and willing to please in those days, and never spoke rudely or impatiently. Was it because there was no money that they had become so miserable and unhappy?

All through the hot summer months Hazel toiled as Mrs. Hill's servant, and never told her mother how unhappy she was, or how her arms and feet ached, or how hard were the blows her taskmistress inflicted on her. The kitchen was always so hot, and the lodgers on the first floor so impatient and exacting, that Hazel found it impossible to work well, or to please Mrs. Hill. Sometimes, overcome by sleep, she would sit on the stairs near her mother's door and rest her head on the step above, and stay there until Mrs. Hill's sharp voice and sharp blows aroused her.

She knew it would be better for her if she could patiently endure the harsh words and reproaches forever sounding in her ears, but being only a child, after all, and having a fair share of determination and pride, she occasionally gave back the bitter reproaches she received. Then indeed was Mrs. Hill's hand heavy, and the poor child's back and shoulders were so sore that she could scarcely lie down at night without great pain. Her face grew thin and white, and her eyes dull and swollen from weeping. She shrank from any loud noise, and shivered when she heard a raised voice in the street.

She sometimes thought of her Aunt Jane, her mother's only sister, and when she did think of her, indignation and anger filled her heart. Mr. and Miss Goodworthy were living in comfort and tranquillity in the home out of which, for no fault, no wrongdoing, they had turned their sister. The child had often heard her father and mother talking of the people of The Priory, and she had come to the conclusion that the God of her uncle and aunt was not the God worshipped by her mother and father. She grew puzzled and confused when she thought the matter over. She was much given to thinking out difficult questions.

Brought up in the society of a father and mother who were no longer young, Hazel had become very old-fashioned and very self-reliant. She would rather sit beside her mother and listen to her and repeat her lessons to her, than play with dolls or amuse herself as children of her age usually did. She had no child friends at all, for Maria knew no children with whom she could permit her little daughter to associate.

So Hazel pondered deeply over her Aunt Jane. Certainly there was only one God, but He was a God of love, and Jesus commanded His followers to love one another; and He had taught His disciples to say, "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us." He had said distinctly, "By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another."

Miss Goodworthy did not love her sister, so she was no disciple of Christ's. There was no getting out of the difficulty. Both Mr. and Miss Goodworthy were professing Christians, but they did not love either their sister or her husband, so their "profession" was simply an untruth. They were not Christians if they wilfully disobeyed Christ's command, and continued to disobey it.

When Hazel uttered some of these thoughts of hers to her mother, Mrs. Haldene looked so shocked, and seemed so grieved and perplexed, and persisted so earnestly in her declaration that Joseph and Jane were good Christians, and had always been so, following the custom of the Goodworthy family, that the child was sorry she had spoken, and she resolved to keep such thoughts locked up in her own heart for the future.

But all Hazel's self-reliance, and all her love for her mother, had no power to soften Mrs. Hill's hard hand, or to make that woman's taunts and abuse any more easy to bear. One day in the autumn, a cold, wet, miserable day on which the streets were slippery from the constant downpour, and the yellow gas flickered and cast strange gleams of light, Mrs. Hill was in a more irritable humour than usual, and more than ever disposed to find fault with her little servant. She had kept the child hard at work all the morning, and when one o'clock came, instead of sending her upstairs with her mother's dinner and allowing her to eat her own scanty meal, she gave her a letter from one of the lodgers and told her to take it to the address written on the envelope.

"But mother will wonder where I am," said Hazel mildly. "Let me carry up the dinner first. I'm very hungry myself."

"Of course you're hungry," answered the woman in sarcastic tones. "You're a growing girl, poor dear, and require nourishing food, and plenty of it. You would like some beef tea perhaps, or some roast turkey. Of course you want to carry up your mother's dinner so that you may have the pleasure of eating it yourself. Oh, I know all about it. You can't deceive me, cunning as you are. You think I don't know that your mother isn't able to eat all I send her up, and that you sit beside her bed like a martyr and finish her dinner for her."

"I don't do any such thing," cried Hazel in amazed indignation. "Poor mother could easily eat the little bit you send her, but often it's so burnt and dirty that she can't eat it, and then I bring it down."

"Oh you do, do you, Miss Impudence? Didn't I tell you never to contradict me, or answer me back? I say you do eat your mother's dinner, and I can't afford to give you two meals instead of one, so I mean to take up the tray myself for the future. You spend too much time in the bedroom after dinner. I'll prevent that by leaving you here in the kitchen to answer the rings of the drawing room bell while I go to your mother."

"Mother would rather I took up her dinner," said Hazel, tremblingly. "She will be so disappointed if she doesn't see me until bedtime every night."

"She may be disappointed, you conceited, rude little thing! I'd have a good mind to box your ears well. Put on your hat. There it is behind the door, and take this letter without another word. Nice thing, indeed! I'm keeping you and your dying mother from the workhouse and all the thanks I get from you is disobedience and saucy answers. Some day you'll try my patience too much, and then I'll turn you both out into the streets. Of course it'll be the death of your mother, and that'll be no fault of mine. She'll have her own daughter's disobedience and saucy tongue to thank for it. Are you going, or must I put you out of the door with my own hands?"

Hazel shuddered as she took up the letter from the table, and hastened out of the kitchen and up the wet area steps to the street.

She did not know her way about the streets very well, for she had never gone out alone before her mother's illness, and any messages which Mrs. Hill had sent her had been to shops in the next street. The address on the letter was unfamiliar to her. She scarcely knew which way she ought to turn at first. She made some inquiries of a policeman, and having received what seemed to her complicated and confusing directions, she hurried onwards.

### Chapter 6

WHEN Mrs. Hill carried the tray containing Mrs. Haldene's scanty meal into the sick woman's bedroom, she had banished from her face all signs of bad temper. She spoke in quiet, soothing tones, and placed the pillows carefully and gently behind her lodger.

"There is nothing wrong with Hazel, I hope," said the mother anxiously, as soon as she could speak after the exertion of sitting upright in bed.

"Oh no," replied Mrs. Hill, cheerfully; "I just sent her out on a message for me. A little fresh air will do her good. I don't think she gets enough of it."

"But do you think it is a favourable day for being out?" questioned Mrs. Haldene hesitatingly.

"Oh yes. There has been some rain, to be sure, but that will only wash the dirty streets and make them comfortable to walk on; and the wind's a bit sharp, but it will blow away any fog. It's a fine, bracing day. It will do Hazel good to be out a bit. I was thinking that if you had a little more fresh air you'd be the better for it. London rooms are mostly stuffy, except you have one at the very top of the house, and this one will be airless because you are always in it, and the window generally shut."

"I try to keep it as fresh as I can," murmured the invalid. "I can't have the window long open, for the damp, sharp air makes me cough."

"Of course it does," responded Mrs. Hill in sympathetic tones; "and the air isn't so clear down here as it'd be higher up. There's that little room overhead empty now. You might move up to it today. The change would do you all the good in life. I'm not very busy just now. I could spare the time to move you."

"I think ... I think if you have no objection I would rather stay here. I'm afraid I couldn't bear the exertion of moving today. My cough is worse than usual, and I can scarcely breathe."

"Just what I expected," returned the other, in brisk accents. "Your cough and breathing will never be any better as long as you stay shut up here. I'll move you up in a few minutes. I won't shake you much. I can easily carry you in my arms. There's a gentleman waiting for this room as soon as I can get it ready for him."

The woman hurried away, and Mrs. Haldene could hear her stamping about overhead. Why surely there was only a garret above the bedroom! There was no real room, and it was a small garret too.

What could Mrs. Hill mean? If only Hazel would return. It was not a nice day for the child to be out, no matter what Mrs. Hill said to the contrary.

"Now then, I've got the place ready," said the lodging house woman, re-entering the bedroom where the sick lady was gasping for breath and coughing violently, the excitement and a sort of fear of Mrs. Hill making her worse. "I needn't wait till this attack's over, for of course the change of air will give you another one. There's a few boxes in the room, but you won't mind that. They'll do you for chairs. I've lighted a fire too, so you'll be snug enough."

Giving Mrs. Haldene no time to object, she took her in her strong arms and carried her up to the garret and placed her on a chair. Then she went back for the bedclothes and mattress. She placed the mattress on the floor and laid Mrs. Haldene down.

"There now, you'll do nicely. I want the bedstead for the new lodger, but you've plenty of warm bedclothes, so you won't miss it. The window's open a bit to let out the smoke. The chimney's cold at first, and it will smoke awhile. I can't let you always have a fire, I couldn't afford it, but just for today you may have it to warm the room. Don't keep the window shut, or you'll soon be as bad here as you were below."

"Please ... put ... out the ... fire," gasped the sick lady. "The smoke is smothering me."

"Oh that will soon stop. There, don't excite yourself, you'll only make your cough worse. I'll come up and see you by and by, if I have time."

Meanwhile Hazel wandered very far away in search of Bedford Street, the address on the letter. The rain came down heavily on her, and the wind blew her hat into a muddy pool of water. Her tired feet grew weighty as the damp thoroughly soaked through her worn-out boots. She never seemed to draw any nearer to Bedford Street, although she walked as rapidly as she could, thoughts of her mother giving her strength to lift those weighty feet of hers quickly.

Darkness began to fall, a dismal, wet, smoky darkness that well nigh took away all her courage. How anxiously her mother would be watching the bedroom door, expecting to see her enter every minute. How dreary the long hours would seem to the invalid, shut up in that sick room all alone. Oh how endless the streets in London were, and what confusing directions people gave!

At last, when she was quite worn out, Hazel reached the house she was looking for: a fine one in a quiet, respectable street. When she handed the letter to the maid who opened the door, she fell exhausted upon the steps. She had had no food since six o'clock that morning, and her meal then had consisted of dry bread, and weak tea. The maid, a country girl, glanced down in pity at the miserable-looking little object lying at her feet.

"Hello, what's the matter here, Sarah?" questioned a handsome, bright-faced lad of about sixteen, coming to the hall door.

"It's some poor child, Master Hubert, who has brought a letter for the mistress."

"She is a poor child, indeed. I wonder who owns her. What pretty hair she has. Can't you stand up, youngster?"

Hazel staggered to her feet and leaned against the door while she tried to steady herself. "I'm very tired. It is a long walk here, and a long while since I had anything to eat," she murmured faintly.

Then she fell down again, but this time she had fainted.

"Take her up and bring her into the kitchen while I go for mother," directed the lad hastily, as he rushed upstairs two steps at a time.

When Hazel opened her eyes she saw a sweet faced lady bending over her, and the kind-hearted maid standing beside her with a bowl of beef tea.

"Drink that, and eat a bit of bread before you speak to us," said the lady gently.

Mechanically Hazel did as she was bidden; then she started up from the sofa in the kitchen, on which the maid had placed her, and cried out, "Oh don't keep me! Please don't keep me. Mother will be nearly dead from anxiety, and fear. Let me go home."

"We did not keep you, poor child. You fainted, and Sarah carried you in here. Now you are better, I think, but you are scarcely fit to walk home if you have a long way to go. You shouldn't have been wandering about the streets on such a day, and you should have eaten your dinner before you started."

A blush rose to the child's face. She could not say that there was no dinner for her to eat, and that she had no desire to go without food.

"You are very kind," she said quietly, and gratefully. "I must try and hurry home now. I have a sick mother who will be waiting for me."

"Well, go child," answered the lady half impatiently. "Be sure you take your wet clothes off as soon as you get home."

"Was the letter all right?" questioned the child as she staggered to her feet.

"Oh yes. It was from a pensioner of mine who wants me to go and see her. Here is a little money to pay an omnibus home, and to buy something for your sick mother."

Instinctively Hazel shrank back from the proffered silver. She was not a beggar yet. Then the fact of their real poverty flashed across her mind, and she took the money with a quiet "Thank you," while a burning, shamed blush covered her face.

The lady looked at her curiously, but the girl hastened out of the kitchen, followed by Sarah who opened the door for her.

"What's your name, poor little one? Mistress might be able to help you more."

"My name is Hazel Haldene, and we are not  
beggars," replied Hazel proudly, as she went out through the door.

"There now, I let her go without asking her name, and Hubert will be so disappointed. What is the child's name, Sarah?"

"I asked her just now ma'am, and she said it was Hazel Haldene. I hadn't time to find out where she lived, she was in such a hurry to be gone."

"Haldene! That is curious. Did you notice, Sarah, how well she spoke, and what pretty hair and eyes she had? She did not want to take the money at first. She looked ashamed when she did take it."

"Yes, ma'am, and she spoke quite proud just now, and said she wasn't a beggar."

"Dear me, how curious if she should turn out to be a relation. I must tell Hubert all about it."

Hazel did not take an omnibus home. She felt stronger now than when she had set out to find Bedford Street, and she was better able to understand the directions given to her by a policeman of whom she inquired the way to her miserable home. She concealed the money, of which she had so unexpectedly become the possessor, in the breast of her frock, for Mrs. Hill might take it from her if she saw it.

When she reached the house she was obliged to go in by the area door, for she knew Mrs. Hill would come out to the area to see who it was if she rang the hall doorbell, and would order her to come down to the lower entrance. She did not want to pass through the kitchen just then, but there was no other way of getting to her mother.

"Nice long while you've been," cried Mrs. Hill sharply, when she saw Hazel. "You might have been half over London since. You deserve a good beating, I declare, for making me do your work for so long. I'll take care how I send you out again."

"I don't want to go out again," answered Hazel. "I have been half over London, I believe, trying to find that address. Mother must be in a dreadful state of anxiety."

"Where are you going? If you don't sit down now and take the remains of supper before I clear away, you won't get any tonight."

"I'm going up to mother. Haven't I left her alone long enough? I don't want any supper."

"Oh you don't! I'll be bound you've been feeding somewhere, and feeding at my expense most likely. You complain of having left your mother so long, but you didn't mind delaying a bit longer to have a fine supper somewhere. Now I wonder how you got the money to pay for it."

Hazel did not answer. She hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom. She opened the door gently -- her mother might be asleep. What was her astonishment to find a man sitting by the fire smoking, the remains of a substantial meal on the little centre table. She started back, and looked quickly towards the bed. There was no bed behind the door. A bookcase stood there instead. With a hasty, "I beg your pardon," she shut the door again, and rushed down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Where is my mother?" she cried in an agony of fear.

"Don't shout like that, child," replied Mrs. Hill calmly. "Your mother's safe and sound in the room over your old one, though it's more than you deserve to hear it. I wanted a room for another lodger, and the higher one will have better air, and be more healthy for your mother. Besides I couldn't afford to let her have such a good room without payment. I'm a poor woman, Hazel Haldene, though I suppose you think I'm a rich one because I've been so foolishly generous to you and your mother."

"Generous?" retorted Hazel scornfully. "You've taken all our furniture and now you've put mother into a garret."

"I'll put her into the street next, if you don't take care what you're about," screamed the angry woman, raising her hand menacingly.

Hazel again left the kitchen and ran upstairs, anxiety lending a temporary strength to her tired limbs. The attic door was open to allow the smoke to escape. The window was also open, but the fire had gone out. On the bed on the floor, in a half-unconscious state, lay Mrs. Haldene. When Hazel's eyes first rested on the pale face she thought her mother was dead, and she cried out in horror and alarm. The cry at once restored the sick woman to consciousness, and she opened her eyes.

"Hazel, is it you at last, dear? I am so glad you have come. Won't you close the window and door? I am so cold."

Hazel had already fastened the window, and the door. "I couldn't help it, mother," she said, kneeling down on the floor beside her mother. "That wicked, unkind woman, sent me all over London with a letter, and I'm so wet and tired. But I shouldn't come near you. I will take off my wet things at once."

"Is Mrs. Hill unkind to you? You never told me that. You always said she was good enough to you, and that if she ever scolded you it was because you deserved it. Oh, my poor child!"

Hazel remembered with dismay that she had kept her mother in ignorance of Mrs. Hill's real character. Now a few hasty, foolish words had revealed the truth.

"Don't fret over it, mother dear," she said soothingly. "I can take care of myself even if Mrs. Hill has a bad temper. But you will grow worse and worse up here. How dare she put you into the attic! And I see she has taken the bedstead."

"She said she wanted it for the new lodger," gasped Mrs. Haldene.

At this moment, Mrs. Hill burst into the room in a fury. "I'll not support you two any longer," she screamed. "You can go to the workhouse, that's the place for such as you. I don't care if it does kill your mother, you ungrateful girl! Unless you pay me money, as well as be my servant, you shan't stop in this garret an hour longer. Now, do you understand me? You'll pay me a shilling a week, and feed yourself and your mother, and work for me half the day, or you don't stay here an hour longer. And you'll keep a quiet, civil tongue in your head, too, and be obliged to me for my kindness. I won't have you making a row for the other lodgers to hear."

Then she quitted the garret with a wrathful countenance, and stamped down the stairs noisily, a crafty, triumphant smile curling her thin lips when she was alone.

"What are we to do, Hazel?" panted the invalid, after a few minutes silence. "It would be my death if I was moved to the workhouse now. Oh I wish God would call me tonight, and then you would have a chance of living. I am so tired, and so useless. It is a cruel world, except you are strong and brave hearted."

"Don't talk like that, mother," pleaded Hazel, as great, hot tears rolled down her face. "How could you say you wanted to leave me alone in the world?"

"If I were gone, you might ask your aunt and uncle to take you in. They would make you their own child, and then you would have plenty of money, and a lovely home."

"Ask Aunt Jane for help? Never!" declared the child, indignantly. "She and uncle are as wicked as Mrs. Hill, and worse too, for they pretend to be good."

"Hush, Hazel, it grieves me sorely to hear you speak of your aunt and uncle in such a way."

"Well, I won't talk about them again. I have a little money. See! There are three whole shillings. We can be going on with that, and perhaps something else will turn up. We must stay here a little longer, for you can't be moved again so soon."

"You must not be the servant of that woman. She will be cruel to you, and perhaps even dare to strike you. Has she ever struck you? Answer me, Hazel."

"Now never mind, mother. I really won't let you talk anymore, until you've had a cup of tea. I'll go out and buy some things. Oh, I know where to get them. Mrs. Hill often sends me for them. We'll have such a cosy little meal."

The mother watched her child with fond, longing eyes. Oh when would God send assistance to them? They sorely needed it now.

### Chapter 7

HAZEL'S three shillings did not last very long. When the money was all spent, the child went to Mrs. Hill and begged her to let them have a little food, even dry bread, for they were starving. But the woman laughed cruelly, and refused the request with many a taunt and many a harsh word.

"So you're a beggar now, my fine little lady! You'd better have kept a civil tongue in your head and remained my servant, than have come to begging. No, I won't have anything more to do with you. Keep the terms we agreed on, and you may stay in my garret. But if you can't pay the money, you must go to the workhouse. I can't keep starving people here. The police would be down on me for not reporting your case. No, no, the workhouse is the place for such as you. If you don't take your mother there soon, I'll call in the police myself, and tell them you're letting the poor, sick lady die of starvation."

Hazel repeated to her mother a part of what Mrs. Hill said. There was no use in hiding anything now, and concealment was impossible.

"We can't go to the workhouse," whispered Mrs. Haldene. "But we must not starve to death. Perhaps the workhouse is the best place for us. I can't do anything; my thin, weak hands are useless."

She glanced down through tears at her white, attenuated fingers. There were no rings on them now, none save that single gold band which her husband had given her in the church at Ashwood. She put her lips to it for a moment, then she called Hazel to her side.

"Take it, dear. You can sell it, or pawn it somewhere. The money will keep us out of the workhouse a little longer."

Hazel shrank back from the proffered ring. "Your wedding ring, mother!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, I know. Your father will forgive me when I tell him that I sold it to keep his dear little daughter from the workhouse. Take it away quickly, while I have strength to bid you go."

The child hastened out of the garret with an awestricken face, and a bursting heart. During all the sorrows, and all the privations they had endured, Hazel had never seen such a look of utter despair in her mother's eyes.

One cold day, two weeks afterwards, Hazel crept close to the mattress and laid her head on the hard pillow. "We have only a shilling left," she murmured. "Mrs. Hill wouldn't give me change the last time I paid her. She said I owed it all to her, and more. I am so cold and tired. Let me rest awhile beside you, mother."

From the room beneath sounds of mirth ascended now and then. The man who lodged there had made a feast for his friends, and they were all drinking and making merry. In the kitchen Mrs. Hill was mentally commenting on the stillness of the garret, and arranging the place for a new lodger. She was momentarily expecting Hazel to announce that her mother was dead. In the streets nearby, carriages were bearing along brightly dressed ladies, and happy, laughing children laden with toys and sweetmeats.

Some time later Maria opened her eyes and stretched out her hand to Hazel, but the child was not there.

### Chapter 8

SHE called softly, "Hazel," the faint, flickering smile still playing round her tremulous lips.

"Hazel will be back directly, Mrs. Haldene. Can I do anything for you in the meantime?"

"Miss Bird! Is it Miss Bird?"

"Yes, I have come at last. I ought to have come sooner, but I couldn't help the delay. I was very ill for a long time. You have had a nice sleep. How do you feel now?"

"Oh, much better. I knew someone would soon come to our help. I will go to be with Jesus soon, after I have had a talk with you."

"Aren't you afraid to die?" asked little Miss Bird, in slightly awe-stricken tones.

"Afraid," echoed Maria, wonderingly. "Why should I be afraid to go home to Heaven where Christ is, and where Arthur is waiting for me? Oh no, I shall be released from all trouble, all sorrow. I never was of much use in the world. I never had much wisdom, you know. But I would have stayed here gladly with Hazel if God had so willed it. You will be a friend to our child?"

"Of course I will."

Miss Bird had always had a sort of fear of death, and of dying people. She was sure that she would go to Heaven, and that Mrs. Haldene, and all good Christians would go there, but the near approach of death itself always seemed awful to her. That was the only great trial she had. She could not bear to think that she must go through the gates of death before she could enter Heaven.

What, therefore, was her astonishment to see Maria smiling, and to hear her talk so gladly, so cheerfully of death. Nay, she seemed in a hurry to be gone. The little spinster knew that Mrs. Haldene was not a particularly determined woman, nor a very courageous one. If she did not fear death because Jesus was her Saviour, then could there be nothing fearful about it; so there was an end of that trial forever.

"Of course I will take care of Hazel," she repeated in natural accents, abandoning with relief the unnatural awe-stricken tone in which she had previously spoken. "I don't quite understand how Mr. Haldene's death could have so soon plunged you into poverty. You had plenty of good furniture. If you had sold it, you could have lived on the proceeds for a long time. Hazel told me everything, poor child. But I feel that woman has treated you disgracefully. I am going down to speak to her now. Hazel went out to buy us some food, and a warm frock for herself. She said she knew where the shops were. Ah, here she is. Now, Hazel, give me that soup, and that meat. I'll manage Mrs. Hill. See the fire burns nicely. Put this warm cloak of mine over your mother. She looks very cold; and dress yourself. How clever of you to buy all those things."

"Oh, mother, mother, aren't you happy? We'll have no more trouble now. As soon as a doctor has seen you, we are going to move out of this place to a home in the country, Miss Bird says. She is going to make Mrs. Hill cook a fine supper for us, and I think she is going to scold Mrs. Hill too. Mrs. Hill is afraid of her. She says she is a mad woman, but she isn't mad a bit. She's only very good and lovely. Mother, you do look so happy!"

"That is right. I am indeed very happy, darling," answered Mrs. Haldene, with a smile of content.

Meanwhile, Miss Bird hastened down the stairs, her dainty, flowered silk skirt gathered up in her hand to prevent its coming in contact with the dirty steps; the short curls on either side of her pink cheeks bobbing up and down as she nodded her head indignantly at the thought of Mrs. Hill's wickedness and cruelty. When she entered the kitchen, picking her way carefully over the soiled, greasy floor, Mrs. Hill started back with an alarmed exclamation.

"Ah, you may well fear to see me, wicked, dishonest woman! How have you treated the widow and orphan? How have you behaved to the two innocent, unprotected creatures thrown into your power? Where is all the furniture that belonged to my friend Mr. Haldene? Where is all the precious china? Where are all the costly vases and ornaments his rooms contained? Oh, I know their value well! What have you done with them? You told those two poor creatures in your garret that you had pawned the things, and got little money for them. You shall give me up those pawn tickets, and we will go to those pawn shops and see all about it. Not an abusive word or I'll call a policeman and give you in charge this minute."

"No one would mind you. You're nothing but a mad woman, as we all know," screamed Mrs. Hill, stammering and stuttering in rage and terror.

"Oh, we'll see about that. Warm this soup, and bring plates, and knives and forks, and everything we need for supper, and not a word from you. Come into the garret quietly, and don't venture to speak. Those poor, starved, ill-treated creatures must be fed and warmed first. After that's done, I'll settle with you. Now do exactly as I tell you, or you'll sleep in prison tonight. I give you twenty minutes to carry out my directions." So saying the little lady climbed up the dirty stairs again.

"Dear me," she murmured to herself, half audibly, "this doesn't seem the same house since Mr. Haldene died and his poor widow fell ill. The place looks poverty-stricken, and the lodgers look poor and drunken. I expect things have all gone wrong with that wicked woman since she commenced defrauding the widow and the orphan; and I expect she drinks too."

In a short time a warm, comfortable meal was spread in the garret where the fire now burned merrily, and after partaking of it Hazel lay down at the foot of her mother's mattress and fell fast asleep.

"The rest will do her good," whispered Mrs. Haldene. "It is many a day since she has had a peaceful sleep. Her poor back and arms are bruised and sore from the heavy blows that woman gave her, and there are wrinkles of fear and anxiety on her forehead, and round her eyes. Our dear little daughter!"

"Could you not take a rest yourself?" asked Miss Bird pityingly.

"I shall soon rest. I shall soon be very, very happy. But I want to speak to you about Hazel. She is only a child yet. When she has sense enough to judge wisely, will you tell her her mother's story without blaming anyone or speaking hardly of anyone? My poor brother and sister are more to be pitied than I am -- far more to be pitied. I begin to see things more clearly now. My husband trusted in the blood of Jesus to cleanse his sin, and so do I trust Him for all I have done wrong in my life. I suppose God is giving me some more wisdom just at last. I have no money -- nothing to leave Hazel but just this, and please tell her it is her mother's legacy."

Miss Bird stayed silent as Marie continued.

"I want Hazel to go and stay at The Priory for a while and try to soften the hearts of my brother and sister, and try to make them love her, and become reconciled to me and dear Arthur. We shall be in Heaven where nothing can harm us, but they would be so much happier if they ceased to bear ill will. I sometimes think with fear that God might shut them out from His Heaven at last if they persist in disobeying His command. Jesus said He will say to some people who thought they had led good lives, 'Depart from Me. I never knew you.' They don't love me, they refused to be reconciled to me, and I'm afraid they won't love Hazel at first. They are both so good and so clever, and we were always happy together at home, and I do love them so. If I could only see them now before I go."

"Shall I send for them?" said Miss Bird eagerly.

"No, it is too late now. Tell them I loved them always, and I shall expect to see them in Heaven. But they must learn to love, and to forgive before they can hope to meet God. And yet ... and yet I always thought them good Christians. They never did anything wrong that I know of. All the town respected them. They attended church meetings, and read the Bible and good books. Even now I don't understand how it was that they wouldn't be reconciled to me."

"I understand it quite well," answered Miss Bird decidedly. "They are not Christians at all. Or if they ever were Christians, they let Christ's spirit die out of them. Religion has remained in their heads, but gone out of their hearts."

"Ah no, no," murmured the dying woman, faintly. "Don't speak harshly, and don't let Hazel do so. I have given her few commands during her short life, but now I give her one, and she must obey me. She must endeavour, with God's help, to make them heart Christians. She won't understand for some years yet, she is too young. But when she is old enough, let her begin her work. She is your child now, Miss Bird, but if they should want her, will you let her go to them?"

"Yes, indeed I will," the little spinster replied, earnestly. "I promise I will do my very best to carry out your command to Hazel. Would you like me to go to The Priory and ask them to take Hazel now, after she becomes my charge?"

A light came into the mother's dim eyes. "Yes, oh yes," she answered.

"Well, I will do so," responded Miss Bird, bravely conquering her own disappointment.

She did not want to give up the child. She had always loved her, and Hazel returned the love. Now when she might have such a companion in her lonely home, she had to try to persuade people to take the child who did not love her, and did not desire her. It was hard, perhaps, but after all it must be right.

### Chapter 9

MISS BIRD took Hazel home to her house in Wells Street, and made the orphaned child as comfortable and happy as was possible under the circumstances. The little, spinster bought back Maria's wedding ring and kept it for her child until the day she should be old enough to understand her mother's legacy. Indeed, Hazel spoke so bitterly about her aunt and uncle, declaring that they had killed her mother, and that they were wicked people, and not Christians, that Miss Bird deemed it wiser to say nothing about The Priory for a while.

The child delighted her kind friend one day by announcing that she meant to call her "auntie" for the future, if Miss Bird would allow her to do so. From that time forward a real and deep affection existed between Hazel and the eccentric little spinster, and teachers came to Wells Street to instruct the child, for Miss Bird would not send her to school in London, being never quite happy when she was out of her sight.

About two months after Mrs. Haldene's death, when the cold winter had passed away and the early spring had come in its stead, Miss Bird bethought herself of a certain promise she had made to her dead friend. She did not wish to keep the promise, for it might entail the giving up of Hazel; but she felt she must keep it, for all that. There would be no use in taking Hazel with her to Ashwood, she reflected, for the child hated her aunt and uncle just now, and she had a very determined will of her own, not being like her mother in that respect. She was clearly not yet in a state of mind to listen to her mother's command, her legacy.

So one bright morning the little spinster arrayed herself in a brown silk dress and a fur mantle and hood, and set out by the first train for Ashwood. She left a note for Hazel, informing her that she was obliged to go a short journey, but hoped to be back that night. If she could not return until the following day, Hazel was not to be alarmed, but go on with her lessons and music as usual.

Miss Bird had not put on mourning for her friend. She disliked black dresses very much, and she was sure she mourned Mrs. Haldene as sincerely in pretty bright dresses as in black crape-trimmed ones. She could not bear Hazel's black attire, but she thought that she ought to conform to the usages of society in the child's case.

The train arrived in Ashwood some time in the afternoon, and Miss Bird, feeling hungry and tired, and not being certain of a welcome at The Priory, entered the only hotel the town of Ashwood could boast of: The Shepherd's Inn. It was a quaintly built old-fashioned place, and she was at once struck by its beauty, and by the old-world beauty of the small town itself.

She ordered dinner of the smiling landlady who looked at her visitor with some wonder and admiration. Then she calmly surveyed the dining room, and the parlour, and the two spare bedrooms in the hope of discovering some old china, or some pretty bowl or jug. Finally, she sauntered out into the hilly streets, and saw with pleasure that business bustle was unknown in Ashwood.

There was one principal street, with three or four smaller streets leading out of it. The Priory was about a mile from Ashwood on a shady country road, with cottages along it at intervals. There was a river, too, near The Priory; a shining, tree-bordered, hill-surrounded river; and there were wide stretches of green and brown land everywhere.

As Miss Bird returned to The Shepherd's Inn from her tour of inspection, she surveyed the shops in the town, and was pleased to see that there were some good drapery and grocery establishments, but no nice bookshop. When she was sitting at dinner she questioned the landlady, who personally attended on such an odd and apparently distinguished visitor.

"Is there not a good school for girls somewhere near here?"

"Oh yes, ma'am. Miss Hope has a grand school for young ladies, and a lot of teachers. The young ladies mostly live in the academy."

"Yes," nodded Miss Bird. She remembered that Mrs. Haldene had mentioned this school. "And is there not a place near here called The Priory? I think I passed it in my walk."

"Oh yes, ma'am, surely. Mr. and Miss Goodworthy live there. They're very good people, and very charitable. They used to come into Ashwood often, but since Miss Maria went away they keep themselves very quiet in The Priory."

"Miss Maria was a sister, I suppose?"

"The youngest sister. She wasn't very young exactly; but she married against their wishes, here in our church. Mr. Hewson married her and Mr. Haldene. And then she went to London, and we never heard anything more about her. We were all very fond of Miss Maria. She was such a tender, gentle lady, and so kind that the bad folks in the town were ashamed to drink or to tell lies, she took it so much to heart. We were very sorry to lose her, ma'am. The Priory has never been the same place since she went away. It's a real nice house, and the grounds are lovely; but it's so neglected and shut up, that it's more like a prison than anything else."

"It's a pity they didn't become reconciled to their sister. They might have been happy and cheerful again. Don't you agree with me?"

"Yes; ma'am, of course. It's never no use bearing malice, never. And after all, Miss Maria did no great wrong that we could ever see. Why shouldn't she marry, if she wanted to?"

"No reason in life why she shouldn't," declared Miss Bird emphatically.

"Not that you must think for a minute, ma'am, that I'm saying anything against Mr. and Miss Goodworthy. They're much respected in the place, and rightly so."

"Oh, of course. But it seems to me that you all loved Miss Maria best."

"Well, she was so gentle, and loving -- dear lady," answered the woman apologetically.

"Ah, just so. Where did you get that strange brown jar? I declare, I must have overlooked it. Will you sell it to me? It is a beauty, and an old one too."

The astonished woman nearly dropped the tray she was carrying from the room, the change of conversation was so sudden, and the visitor's tone so startling.

"That, ma'am. Oh, that belonged to my grandmother's mother, I believe."

"Ah, I thought so. Will you sell it to me? I will give you five pounds for it."

Mrs. Hind, the landlady, laid the tray down and looked at Miss Bird.

"Well, I'd be willing to oblige you, I'm sure," she stammered in her surprise. "I'll just go and ask John if he has any objection to my selling it." She departed hastily to find "John," being fully persuaded in her own mind that her visitor was "a bit touched," which conviction she communicated to her worthy spouse.

She returned to the impatient Miss Bird in a few minutes and announced that John said the lady might have the jar, and welcome, but he thought five pounds too much for it.

"Oh dear no, not at all too much for it. Here is your money. Now get me some soft paper, or some old rags, to wrap it up in. Old china is my craze, you know," she went on nodding her head gaily, "and I am prepared to pay for it. We must all pay for our hobbies, and most of us have hobbies. They cost us dearly sometimes. Mine does, though not in money. There are more precious things in the world than money. Love and companionship are more precious."

"They're pleasant enough, there's no denying, but money can do a powerful lot," answered Mrs. Hind, sure now that her visitor was "a good bit touched."

"I don't value money very highly," replied Miss Bird, as she carefully packed up the old brown jar.

"Perhaps, ma'am, because you've lots of it."

"Perhaps," returned the little lady, slowly. "There now, that will travel safely. But I must not lose any more time if I mean to return to London tonight. Dear, dear, it is much later than I thought. I hope they have no nice china in The Priory. If they have, I will certainly lose my train."

"Are you going to The Priory, ma'am?" asked the landlady, in dismayed accents.

"Yes, but you need not fear that I will tell Mr. and Miss Goodworthy that you liked their sister better than themselves," answered Miss Bird, with a merry laugh.

"Maybe you know Miss Goodworthy."

"No, I don't indeed. I am quite a stranger in Ashwood. I shall return in about an hour, I suppose. Have a cup of tea ready for me. I would be glad to get back to London tonight. Is it a long walk to The Priory? I passed it a while ago, but I forget how far away it was."

"It's about a mile, if you go straight on without turning into the fields. They keep the big gate locked, so you'll have to ring the outside bell. They used to leave the gate open, but they don't see many visitors now. Perhaps they won't see you."

"Yes, they will," said Miss Bird, in confident tones, as she tied the strings of her fur hood under her chin and trotted off, an odd-looking, trim little figure under the already darkening sky.

She resolutely avoided gazing at the cottages by the wayside, or at the glimpses of beautiful scenery visible from time to time through the firs and evergreen oaks.

"If only they have no china in The Priory I shall be time enough," she thought. "They are not likely to have anything pretty about them. I wonder if Deborah will open the door to me. How am I, a half-crazy creature as they say, to plead Mrs. Haldene's cause successfully? I wish, for Hazel's sake, that I had more general sense." A wistful look stole into the usually bright, wide-awake eyes of the little spinster. "I ought to have brought her with me, after all. Ah, here is the gate."

She rang the bell vigorously. After a considerable delay an old man answered it.

"I have come to see Mr. and Miss Goodworthy," she said, decidedly, walking in past him and rubbing her dainty dress against the dirty rusty gate, so slightly had it been opened. He stared after her, and called out in quavering tones: "Wait, missus." But she gave no heed to him.

The trees in the avenue were fine ones, and would be beautiful later on when decked out with leaves, but the path was grown over with weeds and grass, and there were no flowers, no shrubs in the untidy beds. The place had a dismal, deserted aspect, most depressing to Miss Bird, as it had been to the widowed Maria. Evidently Miss Goodworthy received few visitors, if any. There were scarcely any signs of life about the house, even after the little spinster's loud knock at the door and prolonged pull of the bell.

"Oh, dear, dear, why don't you sweep up your dead leaves?" she said to the servant who at last opened the door. "I suppose you had some rain lately, for they are quite wet and clinging all round my skirt." She shook herself energetically, and then turned to the amazed domestic. "I want to see Miss Goodworthy. Is she at home?"

"I don't think Miss Goodworthy can see you, ma'am," replied the woman hesitatingly.

The servant could see that this little lady was evidently no beggar, but Miss Jane did not care to see strangers.

"Oh yes, she will see me. I have come all the way from London with important news for her. Are you Deborah?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm Deborah," answered the servant, growing more and more amazed. "Might I ask how you know my name?"

"Miss Maria told me all about you, and all about her old home. I've come with a message from her now."

"Oh, come in, ma'am, come in," cried Deborah eagerly. "I'll show you into the parlour, no matter what's said to me. How is poor dear Miss Maria?"

"She is well and happy with her husband in Heaven; but her little daughter Hazel is all alone in the world. I've come about her. I love the child, and I don't want to part with her, but her mother wanted her to come and live here."

Tears rushed into Deborah's eyes: "Is Miss Maria dead? Ah, I was afraid it would end that way. If I could only have found her that night. Come in, ma'am. Who shall I say?"

"Miss Bird, from London."

The parlour seemed empty. Deborah placed a chair for the visitor, and went in search of Miss Goodworthy. Miss Bird sat down for a minute and looked at the fire which was burning in a dull lifeless sort of fashion.

Growing restless as the minutes passed, she jumped up and murmured audibly, "I shall miss my train if this continues much longer. What a poor fire! It is half-hearted and miserable, like the master and mistress of the house. I declare there's nothing of the least value in the dismal room. It is just the sort of place I expected to find. Quite fitting for two hard, unforgiving old people. Comfortless, cheerless -- like malice. Why, gracious, goodness, what is that?"

She had come to a standstill before an armchair in a dark corner which she had not perceived until now. In the armchair was an elderly man swathed in flannel and shawls; a small portion of his face visible. His eyes were open, but he exhibited no signs of animation when the little lady stared at him in startled curiosity.

"Dear me! A sort of fossilized man. How strange! I wouldn't like such a peculiar ornament in my parlour. I am sure Mr. Goodworthy is just like this. His heart has grown so hard from bearing ill-will against Mrs. Haldene so long, that it has fossilized his whole person."

"I am Mr. Goodworthy, madam," spoke the occupant of the chair suddenly, frightening Miss Bird nearly out of her senses. "I don't know how you came into my parlour, and I don't know what is detaining Jane; but I do know that you are a very rude and strange person. Some friend of Maria's evidently. She was always happy in her choice of friends."

The cool, sarcastic tone and words recalled her errand to the little spinster's recollection, and filled her with dismay.

"I have already made an enemy of the brother," she thought. "This will never do if I am to succeed."

Aloud she said, "Pray excuse me, Mr. Goodworthy; I have an unfortunate habit of talking to myself. I meant to say nothing rude, but I really was startled when I saw you first. You are so muffled up that I did not know what to make of you. I suppose you have a very bad cold."

"Yes, madam. I am recovering from inflammation of the lungs."

"Oh, that is bad indeed."

She spoke in such truly sympathetic tones, that Mr. Goodworthy was somewhat mollified, while still watching her narrowly as if he considered her a dangerous person. "Will you sit down, madam? Your constant movement is very irritating to an invalid."

"I will sit down with pleasure. Ah, here is Miss Goodworthy, I am sure. Now I may speak to you both. I am in a hurry, and cannot wait much longer."

"I have not the honour of your acquaintance," said Miss Goodworthy, stiffly. "I suppose Deborah let you in. We do not usually receive strangers, and certainly not when my brother is ill."

"Oh, never mind that," replied Miss Bird. "I am come from your sister Maria. She is dead."

Mr. Goodworthy started up in his chair, regardless of his shawls and flannels, and Miss Jane became very pale, but neither spoke one word.

"And when she was dying," went on Miss Bird slowly, tears gathering in her eyes as she recalled that last scene in the garret in London, "she forgave you both, and sent you her love. She died of starvation; I believe literally of starvation; and you were both living here in comfort. She was your own sister, and you hardened your hearts against her. Oh, you poor creatures. Pray to be forgiven for your cruelty. She left her little daughter, Hazel, all alone in the world. I am the only friend the child has. Will you take Hazel, and love her for her own sake, and for the sake of your dead sister? I don't want to give her up, but I will do so, for I promised her mother that I would come and say this to you. Will you take the child, and make what reparation you can for your cruelty to the mother?"

"We will have nothing to do with the child," spoke Mr. Goodworthy in loud, indignant accents. "Hush, Jane, I will speak, if you please. You are inclined to be foolish in this matter. We did not treat our sister cruelly, madam. She left us, knowing the consequences of her deed. She married a man of whom we did not approve. She is no longer a sister of ours. We behaved uprightly and fairly in the business. There is nothing more to be said on the subject. She is dead, you say. Well, that ends the matter for ever."

"She is in Heaven, but she left her child to you, with her love. She said you were both good Christians."

"It is wonderful that she did us so much justice as that last," returned Mr. Goodworthy, sneeringly. "As for her child, we will have nothing to do with it. It is no relation of ours. We decline now, and for ever, any relationship."

Miss Bird listened with wide-open eyes of wonder and incredulity. Were her ears deceiving her? "Do you know," she said solemnly, "that you and your sister are accountable for Mrs. Haldene's death?"

"You are an escaped lunatic, I believe," almost screamed Mr. Goodworthy, hoarsely. "Ring the bell, Jane, and have this dangerous person removed."

"Ah, please listen to me. I do so want to benefit Hazel, not to injure her. I am afraid I am not delivering my message properly, or you would answer me in a very different way. I know I am a little odd, people say I am, but that has nothing to do with your sister or her child. It is no fault of theirs that I cannot plead their cause as I ought. Oh do please overlook me altogether, and think of your dead sister and her child. How can you say 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us'? God won't hear you if you refuse to be reconciled to your sister."

"We will send for a policeman if you do not go away at once."

Miss Bird rose from her knees -- she had sunk down beside Mr Goodworthy's chair -- and drawing her fur cloak round her she said slowly, and solemnly, "You refuse to be reconciled to your sister even now. You shut your ears to her dying message. Will God hear your prayers? Will He refuse to be reconciled to you at the last? And if He refuses to hear your prayers -- what then? May God have mercy upon you before it is too late, before the child dies also. You are already suffering for your hardness of heart, but you will suffer more yet. God pity you, and all those who like you are hardening their hearts, and refusing to forgive. Perhaps I am not quite right in my head, but may the Lord save me from becoming like these sane Christians!"

The fire died out in the grate as she passed from the room, and Miss Goodworthy shuddered convulsively in the gathering darkness.

### Chapter 10

"YOU have frightened me, Auntie!" cried Hazel the next day when Miss Bird arrived at home about four o'clock in the afternoon. "I thought something bad had happened to you, that you had been taken ill in some far-away place as you were that time you went to Yorkshire."

"Here I am, all safe and sound, dear child, and very glad to see you again. I didn't want to tell you where I was going, and what my errand was, for fear you would persuade me to stay at home. I was on your dear mother's business and I failed, so we won't talk anymore about it."

Hazel silently watched the energetic little lady while she took off her fur wraps and sat down to drink the cup of tea that was ready for her on the afternoon tea table.

"I think you went to Ashwood, Auntie," the child said timidly, after a minute or two.

"Yes, dear, I did. Have you any recollection of the place? You were there once with your mother?"

"Yes, but the day was cold and snowy, and I only remember that I was very tired and hungry, and that mother was unhappy. We saw Miss Goodworthy, but I wouldn't know her again."

"Oh well, never mind about her, poor thing. She is very much to be pitied, she and her brother. They have both become fossils."

An angry, stormy light came into Hazel's eyes. She did not know the meaning of the word "fossil," but she knew that she did not pity her aunt and uncle -- she hated them. Miss Bird noted the angry, flashing eyes, but she talked on placidly while she sipped her tea out of the dainty china cup.

"Ashwood is such a pleasant place, Hazel. I had no idea it was so lovely. I should like to go and live there, I should indeed. I am tired of London, now. The Shepherd's Inn at Ashwood is so old-fashioned and comfortable, and the landlady is so nice. I bought this charming old brown jar from her. The whole neighbourhood reminds me of your father's picture, 'The Village Home.' He represented the cottages exactly, and the little bit of country road you see from the principal street. It is not such a little place, after all. I suppose it has grown larger since your mother lived in it. I am glad to say it doesn't look very bustling, or pushing. I don't think the shopkeepers excite themselves whether they have one customer a day or twenty. I do like a town of that sort. Shall we go and live there, Hazel? There is a good school for you, and a lovely country, and lovely scenery for me. I can set up a bookshop there. I did not see a single one in the whole town, except a little one-windowed affair with newspapers and sugar sticks."

"I ... I don't think I'd care to live in Ashwood, Auntie," said Hazel, slowly.

"Your father thought it lovely. You should have seen his picture. I wish I could paint so truly."

"It may be lovely, but I don't want to live near The Priory."

"Oh you may never see The Priory," answered Miss Bird. "It is a mile from Ashwood. I have no intention of paying another visit there in a hurry. Even if we do live in the town you need never see your relations, or rather, you need never speak to them. Mr. Goodworthy wouldn't know you if he met you, and I don't suppose Miss Goodworthy would remember you. You resemble your father, not your mother. I should like to go and live there for a while, and I think your mother would be pleased if she knew her child lived near the old home."

Hazel trembled, and tears stood in her eyes. "Let us go, Auntie."

"There's a good child!" cried Miss Bird, embracing her fondly. "We won't say anything about your relationship to the Goodworthys. You are my adopted niece, and your parents are dead; that is all the news we will give the Ashwood folks about you. We won't change your name. I dislike that sort of thing. Probably few of them heard your father's name, and if they did, well -- they may think what they like about you. Perhaps I shall tell the clergyman; we shall see. We can't leave here just yet, I must give notice to my landlady."

When the month of June had come to gladden the earth with white, and red, and yellow roses and with fragrant perfumes, Miss Bird and Hazel had taken up their abode in Ashwood. The little spinster rented an empty house just outside the town, and turned one of the parlours into a book and picture shop. It was a very pretty house with a garden all round it, a lovely, old-world garden, with bright, sweet-smelling flowers in front, and at the back fruit and vegetables mixed with the flowers. There was a parlour on each side of the hall door, and one of these was turned into a sort of shop.

It had no counters at all, as all proper shops have, but it had tables filled with beautifully bound books, and with paints, and pictures in oils and watercolours. There were some of the pictures and books in the window, but there was no name over the door. Behind the parlour-shop was the breakfast room looking out on the back garden, and on the other side of the hall was the best parlour. Overhead were the bedrooms.

To please Hazel, Miss Bird had covered all the floors with carpets, and furnished the parlour and bedrooms comfortably, but she managed to have a large quantity of china visible everywhere. Shepherds and shepherdesses sat on the mantle pieces of every room, inanely smiling at each other, or making courtesies everlastingly, or holding umbrellas over their heads while they clasped wonderful dogs in their arms.

Vases and bowls and whole tea sets greeted the eyes of the visitors in most unexpected places. Precious broken jars, containing the precious bits that had been broken off, stood in conspicuous positions on the new tables and cabinets which Miss Bird had bought also to please Hazel. In fact it was altogether a very peculiar house.

Mr. Hewson, the clergyman, called on the newcomers and invited them to join his church, and asked Hazel to attend his Bible class. He was a quiet, gentle old man. Miss Bird and Hazel liked him at once, and promised to do what he asked of them. The doctor's wife called on Miss Bird too, and came away from the house feeling rather bewildered about the little spinster, and wondering if she was quite right in her head.

Mrs. Hind, the landlady of The Shepherd's Inn, told everyone about Miss Bird's visit to the town in the spring, and gave it as her opinion that the lady was very rich, and very eccentric, in which view of the case most of the Ashwood folk concurred.

As soon as she was settled in her new home, Miss Bird took Hazel to Miss Hope's school to inspect the place, and see if she would be likely to be happy there for a few hours every day. Miss Hope was surprised at her elder visitor's manner, and at her brightly coloured silk dress, but very gladly agreed to receive Hazel from ten to one o'clock every day. The child was to learn everything that she wished, and to have the best masters and teachers in the school.

The schoolmistress was more and more puzzled about the newcomers. Miss Bird kept a bookshop, and sold the books and pictures just as if she needed the money, yet she was paying large sums for the education of her little niece who seemed well cared for in every respect.

The little spinster always remained a mystery to the good folk of Ashwood, and her shop was much patronized by poor and rich alike. She received invitations to tea from her neighbours, and from the lawyer's and doctor's wives, but she always refused them.

Sometimes she spent an hour or two in The Rectory, but she preferred to remain at home painting her plates in the parlour-shop, or in the garden, or helping Hazel to attend to the flowers. If she went visiting in an ordinary fashion, the idea for her great picture might come to her when she was too far from home to make a note of it. So she tried to improve herself in painting, waiting patiently the while for a subject for her great work.

At the end of August, at the close of a warm day, Mr. Goodworthy entered the parlour where his sister sat at work. He had quite recovered from his illness now, and was as energetic and self-satisfied as usual. After his recovery he took a greater interest than formerly in the doings of the townsfolk, and attended all the religious meetings regularly, and bade his servants take the padlock off the outer gate. In fact he became once again the most active and important man in the place.

He received Mr. Hewson sometimes at The Priory, and desired Miss Goodworthy to call occasionally at The Rectory. Although not actually encouraging much intimacy on the part of his neighbours, he did not shun them as he had done since Miss Maria Goodworthy's marriage.

"Did you hear, Jane, that a new shop has been opened in the town?" he asked, as he sat down opposite his sister at the open window.

Miss Goodworthy did not look very well. Her face was white and wrinkled, and she had now all the appearance of a very old woman.

"Yes, I have heard that a strange sort of bookshop has been opened in one of those two-storied houses on the road. The shop is not in the town. I have known about it these six weeks or more."

"Have you seen anything of the owner of the shop?"

"Oh yes. She is a very strange individual -- rich, but rather mad, I am told."

"You have not spoken to her since she has taken up her abode here?"

"No, oh no." Miss Goodworthy trembled a little, but looked curiously at her brother.

"I have seen her, Jane, and I do believe she is that mad person who came here some months ago when I was ill, and told us of Mrs. Haldene's death." Mr. Goodworthy spoke in a solemn tone.

"Yes, it may be the same person," answered Miss Jane. "She talked like a mad woman on that occasion. I hope she won't repeat in Ashwood what she said to us here that night."

"It does not matter what she says of us," replied Mr. Goodworthy loftily. "We cannot be harmed by the idle words of that ignorant person."

"I heard also that she has a young niece living with her," continued Miss Goodworthy. "She has sent the child to Miss Hope's school, and pays very highly for her there."

"That is very foolish indeed, very foolish," said Mr. Goodworthy indignantly. "The little girl ought to be taught some trade by means of which she might make a living for herself. Miss Bird keeps a shop, so it is not likely she will have any money to leave her. She ought to provide for her in time. I find that people are very thoughtless and improvident."

"If she is well educated she may become a teacher. I hear that good teachers are in great demand."

"Now that is nonsense, Jane. She is very like her father, and she will try and paint, as her father did before her."

"Her father!" exclaimed Miss Goodworthy.

"I mean ... I mean," stammered Mr. Goodworthy, and then he came to a full stop. "What is there strange in my saying that the child had a father?" he went on in injured, dignified accents. "You need not exclaim so loudly, Jane. Your servant Deborah will hear you, and begin to suspect something. Not that there is anything to suspect," he added hastily. "I am sorry that vain and idle-tongued person chose Ashwood for her abode. We can never countenance her, and she may lead many astray by her frivolity, and foolish babbling."

"She is generally considered to be 'touched,' as worthy Mrs. Hind puts it," said Miss Jane.

"Quite right too. She is more than 'touched.' She is mad. Saner people have been confined in lunatic asylums."

"Yes, she must be mad," answered Miss Goodworthy breathing heavily. "Only mad people would say the things she said that night."

"I believe you were weak enough to let her lunatic remarks remain in your memory, my poor Jane! I gave you credit for more strength of mind, indeed I did."

"What has strength of mind to do with it?" retorted Miss Jane angrily, roused by her brother's sarcastic tone, and smile. "It is not exactly pleasant to be told you are a murderer. You did not like it yourself at the time. You felt the accusation, Joseph. You need not deny it."

"I am not going to deny it, but it was simply a momentary indignation at the woman's audacity. Don't excite yourself, Jane. Old people never should excite themselves. It shortens their days."

"You are older than I am."

"I never said I was younger. But this altercation is unseemly between people in our position, and with characters and reputations such as ours. Let us change the subject. I wish you to visit old Mary Brown in the town and give her some money, and make her some soup. She is very badly off, poor thing. It is right to help her. We must give of our abundance, you know. And when the plate passes next Sunday, put a sovereign into it for the Foreign Missions. I don't care very much for Mr. Hewson, but as I said today to Mrs. Hind, we must not allow any personal feelings to interfere with our duty. I hear this Miss Bird sometimes goes to The Rectory. I must warn Mrs. Hewson against her. That good woman follows her husband's lead so blindly, it is really deplorable! But of course there is some excuse for her weakness, she is so delicate and nervous. We must try and get these newcomers out of the place."

"The child is poor Maria's daughter," thought Miss Goodworthy, when her brother left the room. "She is more like her father than her mother, I think. Of course Joseph knows she is Hazel Haldene. He said as much. Oh, he needn't imagine he is deceiving me. Poor Maria, I had no hand in her death, whatever Miss Bird may say to the contrary. Poor, poor Maria. After all she was our sister. I wonder if her child resembles her in any way. Perhaps Miss Bird will make her eccentric like herself. Maria was always dreamy and foolish, but there never was any harm in her. Hazel means restitution. What a name to give the child. It was just one of Maria's foolish, dreamy ways."

### Chapter 11

THE months and years passed quietly and uneventfully in Ashwood after Miss Bird and Hazel took up their residence there, until Hazel's seventeenth birthday came. Then Miss Bird thought it was time to give the girl her mother's wedding ring, and tell her of that mother's legacy to her child.

One fair spring evening the little spinster made Hazel sit beside her in the parlour just before the lamps were lighted, when the room was dimly illumined by the fitful fire gleam, and then recalled to the girl's memory the miserable lodging house in London, and the joyful departure of Mrs. Haldene to join her husband in Heaven.

"It was her dearest wish that her child should dwell in The Priory, and bring love, and peace, and the spirit of forgiveness into the old home," said Miss Bird earnestly, as her hand rested gently on the girl's brown hair. "She bade me give you her ring, dear child, and say to you that she always regarded her brother and sister with affection, and that if you loved her, you would make your aunt and uncle come to like you, even love you, and think lovingly and gently of the dead sister whose marriage had so displeased them."

Hazel took the plain gold band and gazed at it through her tears. "Where did you get the ring, Auntie?"

"I found out the shop to which you had taken it, and the man readily sold it to me. I would have given you the ring long ago, but I thought you were too young to understand your mother's legacy until now. I also knew," she went on hesitatingly, "that you regarded your mother's relations with anything but kindly feelings. Time has, I trust, shown you the uselessness, nay the wickedness of cherishing any such feeling. Your mother suffered most because of their unkindness, if unkindness it was, and she forgave them, and thought well of them always."

"My mother was too good to live in this world," declared Hazel vehemently. "That old man and his sister killed her with their hardness and wickedness. Are they to have love and kindness in return for it? Am I to go to them and say, 'Please take me in, and allow me to love you. You killed my mother. In return for that deed of kindness I offer you my services and my love.' Is that what you want me to do? Hazel jumped up from her chair and looked at Miss Bird angrily.

"I don't want you to do anything, my dear child. I am repeating your mother's commands to you. She wished, and expected your obedience. You gladly obeyed her while she was with you. Now that she is out of your sight for a while are you careless of her wishes?"

"You know it is not that, Auntie," replied Hazel in gentler tones. "You know that whether here or in Heaven she is always my mother. But the sight of this ring has brought back to me all that she suffered after my father died. She ought to have had no such suffering. There was enough and to spare in The Priory. The door should have been thrown open to receive her, and her sister and brother ought to have welcomed her with outstretched arms. Instead of that she was obliged at last to sell her wedding ring for bread. I will never forget the look on her face when she took the ring off her finger. Love her murderers? I hate them!"

The hot, angry colour covered the girl's brow and neck, and she clenched her hands as if she would strike down some evil thing.

Miss Bird looked at her silently for a moment, and then a perplexed, troubled shadow came into her eyes. Hazel had always been so gentle and obedient and loving, that this fierce resentment was a revelation to the astonished lady. "Christ forgave His enemies," she thought to herself, "and He had much to forgive. Those who call themselves His disciples don't seem to be able to follow His example. It is strange, very strange. Perhaps it is because I am not quite sane that I think it strange. Yet He certainly does say that they must follow Him if they want to be His disciples."

Miss Bird was genuinely perplexed and troubled. "Perhaps I don't see things in their proper light," she said aloud. "And indeed, Hazel, I have always thought you a sincere servant of your mother's God. You are a dear good child, but ... but ... there must be something wanting, or else it is my dullness of comprehension."

Miss Bird knew that Hazel had been endeavouring to serve the God her mother had served so humbly and faithfully, and ever since she had come to Ashwood and joined the Bible class, she had found it an easy and simple matter enough. Sometimes indeed the girls at school spoke in terms of ridicule of Miss Bird, and hinted to Hazel that her aunt was "rather cracked;" but they generally apologised afterwards, and so her wounded feelings were healed.

Sometimes Hazel saw Miss Goodworthy in the town, and the sight of that lady raised angry and rebellious thoughts. But these, after all, were slight and passing trials, and never prevented her from thanking God at night for all His blessings.

But what was this impossible command uttered by her gentle mother? Obedience in this instance would be a trial compared with which all other trials that had gone before sank into insignificance. She could not do this thing. The very sight of that plain gold ring rendered obedience impossible. It reminded her so forcibly of those miserable months after her father's death, when she saw her mother fading away daily without the power to hold her back.

She glanced half-impatiently at Miss Bird through her angry tears. The quaint little figure sitting in a listless attitude before the bright fire, a perplexed frown on the smooth brow, somehow quelled her resentment, and drove the anger out of her heart, the bitter words from her lips.

Odd, and peculiar as this kind friend of hers was, she was generous and affectionate, patient and self-sacrificing, and Hazel loved her with all her heart. That perplexed frown troubled her now, and seemed to reproach her in some strange fashion.

"Auntie," she said gently, "I want to ask you a question."

"Well, dear."

"Mother always maintained that Mr. and Miss Goodworthy were good Christians, and the people of Ashwood speak well of them. They are charitable, and constant churchgoers, but you and I know how they treated mother, and refused her dying request. If they are Christians, they don't serve the same God as my mother served."

Miss Bird smiled faintly, then she said seriously, "I think I can explain. Your mother served God with her heart, but they serve Him with their heads. They know all about Christ's religion, and all about the Bible, but the Spirit of Jesus, The Holy Spirit, is dead in them. They do not know Him for themselves. They were alive once, no doubt, but they are dead now."

Hazel made no reply for many minutes while she glanced round the room with eyes that saw not the bright carpet, and soft rich curtains, and beautiful, old-fashioned furniture. It was a very different room that presented itself to her mental vision, and the occupant of that other room was her gentle mother waiting for death. So whose hardness had driven that gentle woman out of the world?

Must the orphaned daughter of that beloved mother extend the right hand of fellowship, nay of love, to the relations whose cruelty had helped to deprive her of that parent? A thousand times no! It was too much to expect from any human being. God would not demand such a thing of her. Her mother was too weak, too forgiving. If she had been less so, she would have got on better in the world. Meek spirits are always trampled on.

"I cannot do it, Auntie!" Hazel suddenly cried, passionate resentment still in her accents. "It would be out of my power to live on friendly terms and in the same house with Mr. and Miss Goodworthy. Mother did not know what she was asking me to do. She was too forgiving."

"I am sure I don't quite understand it all, Hazel. It seems to me that Mrs. Haldene suffered the most, yet she fully and freely forgave; and it seems to me also that it is right to forgive. But certainly you have a sort of reason on your side, and do not at all resemble Mr. and Miss Goodworthy, though you will not forgive them. They are hard and cruel to my mind. Still, I believe you ought to forgive them. Won't you be acting towards them as they acted towards your mother if you don't forgive them? Not that you are in the least like them, as I said before; but you, even you, appear to find it impossible to follow Jesus altogether."

The hesitating, doubtful words of her adopted aunt struck Hazel suddenly, as if she had received a blow. She, unforgiving, and hardhearted like Mr. and Miss Goodworthy? She, who believed she was a disciple of her mother's God, like those two self-righteous, so-called Christians? Never! The bare idea filled her with a sort of dismayed indignation.

"You are unkind and unjust, Auntie!" she cried, while hot tears forced their way down her face in spite of her efforts to keep them back. "I am trying to do right. I am no hypocrite."

"My dear child, I think you do right always. I am sure you are no hypocrite," answered Miss Bird, quickly and earnestly. "I am very sorry if I have hurt you. It was indeed unintentional."

The poor little lady looked so distressed that Hazel's anger again vanished, and she knelt down beside her and laid her cheek against the faded face. "I beg your pardon, Auntie, for speaking in such a tone to you, and saying you are unjust. Please forgive me, and let us talk of something else."

"You have not offended me, Hazel. You are always a good child, and the very light of my eyes. We will talk of something else now, but you must take your mother's ring, and I would be glad if you would think about your mother's legacy to you."

Hazel took the ring silently, and went away to her own room and locked it up in a little box where she kept her treasures. Miss Bird had purchased this box at some sale and presented it to her. It was made of satinwood, inlaid with amethysts, mother-of-pearl and moss agates, and lined with red velvet. Hazel admired it very much, and thought it very valuable, which indeed it was, if only for its great age, and the curious carving on its sides and lid. She had her father's and mother's pictures in it, and a likeness of Miss Bird; a few dead rose leaves to perfume it; a little scrap of paper with some of her mother's writing on it; a bit of her mother's hair; and now she added her mother's wedding ring to the number of her treasures.

Her face was pale and sad as she closed and locked the box. Her father's paintings were hanging on the walls of her chamber. She glanced round the dear familiar room with a half-impatient sigh. If she obeyed her mother, must she leave all this and go and live in The Priory, away from her beloved, adopted aunt? She took the little box in her arms and sat down opposite her father's portrait, and tried to answer her own questions.

Ashwood was a lovely place. She had grown to care very much for it during the years she had lived in it, and her own home was perhaps the prettiest spot in it, with evidences of Miss Bird's tender affection and unselfishness visible everywhere in the arrangement of it. The poverty and misery she endured after her father's death seemed like a black dream, but a dream that had still power to make her shudder.

She was happy now, and her adopted aunt was happy also. Why disturb such a comfortable state of things by trying to thrust herself upon relations who did not want her, and with whom she had no desire to become acquainted?

But Miss Bird said it was her mother's legacy to her, this command to go and bring a spirit of forgiveness into The Priory, and that she ought to obey. Indeed Miss Bird hinted that she, Hazel, was just like Mr. and Miss Goodworthy if she refused to think kindly of those relations of her mother's. But surely her Auntie was wrong. She, Hazel, never would have treated her sister so cruelly had she had a sister. She would never have turned her out in the snow where destitution, and loneliness and death awaited her.

She knew from her Bible class that he law of love was the great law of the Christian faith, and she tried to obey that law, but Mr. and Miss Goodworthy had refused obedience to it when they refused to be reconciled to their sister. No, no, there was no resemblance whatever between herself and her mother's brother and sister.

Thus Hazel reasoned within herself as she sat in the dim light of the spring night, seeing the faint outline of her father's picture against the wall, while holding the box which contained her treasures.

### Chapter 12

THE next day an invitation came from The Rectory for Hazel. Mrs Hewson seldom included Miss Bird in her invitations now, for she knew that lady preferred to remain at home.

"Shall I go, Auntie?" asked Hazel, timidly.

The girl thought Miss Bird was angry with her for her obstinacy and her passionate words on the previous evening, so her manner was constrained. But there was no room for anger against Hazel in Miss Bird's heart. She always seemed incapable of bearing enmity against anyone, and least of all against one she loved so well.

"Certainly you must go, dear child; and you must put on your prettiest frock and look your best, for Mrs. Hewson says she has visitors from London staying with her."

Hazel laughed. She was so glad Miss Bird was not displeased with her. "Why, Auntie, we don't think much about London. This place is far, far nicer, so why should I dress particularly well for London people?"

"Of course I always like to see you well dressed. You have your mother's pretty brown hair and eyes, and your father's expression and pleasant manner. Tasteful dresses are the proper setting for you. A pretty picture should have a pretty frame. I think all good-tempered, kindly young people are comely, whether they have good features or not, and they should always dress becomingly."

"Those are an artist's idea of things, but what would Mr. Hewson say if he heard you trying to turn my head with your flattery?"

"My flattery will never turn your head, my dear," said the little lady gravely. "There is no harm in speaking the truth, and no harm in telling those you love that they are pleasant to look upon. As for my being an artist, you are a much better one, though you have been taking lessons only about two years. You have made great progress in the last six months. You have indeed inherited your father's talent."

"You should take lessons also," answered Hazel, much gratified by such sincere, affectionate praise. "The master could come here two or three times a week in the afternoons. You would like him. He is so patient, and explains things so clearly. I do enjoy my painting lessons."

"Oh it would be useless for me to take lessons. I would only forget what I do know. I once had lessons, but I grew so confused and so despondent while I listened to the teacher's criticisms and explanations, that I gave up taking lessons. I found I could work so much better alone. Now I think that last plate of mine is very well. I have progressed since I have made Ashwood my home. Of course your pictures are very different from mine. Yours are on canvas, mine on china. Some day you will be famous, I have no doubt, and then I shall be so delighted. But I don't want to be famous. I want just to paint that great dish, or plate, and then I shall feel that my life has not been altogether a useless one, and I shall be content."

"Your life is not a useless one, dear Auntie. Think of all the good you have done."

"Good? I never did any good that I know of. Clergymen and people like your father and mother do good."

"What about mother? What about mother's daughter? Did you never do us good?"

"Oh that is a different thing," replied Miss Bird hastily. "And, besides, I did not do either of you good. It was quite the other way. You allowed me to love you and help you a little, and you came and lived with me and overlooked my oddness, and made me happy and contented. Now, Hazel, what you say is all wrong. You did me good."

Hazel kissed her tenderly and said smilingly. "Auntie, you are lovely!"

Miss Bird laughed, but a faint shadow crossed her face. "It is true, dear. You have made me happy. How lonely I would be without you," she said wistfully.

"I never want to leave you," cried the girl, hugging her friend affectionately. "But you seem to wish me to go from you."

"There, there, we won't say anything about that just now. The invitation says Mrs. Hewson wants you at the Rectory this afternoon."

"Yes, about four o'clock. She mentions that there will be someone to play tennis with me."

"One of the London visitors, I suppose. Well, don't forget your tennis shoes. It will soon be time for you to start out. You ought to go and get ready."

"Won't you be lonely?" asked Hazel, lingering at the door. "You have no plate on hand, and nothing to do while I am away. I don't think I will go."

"Yes, you will. I can manage to exist without you for a couple of hours, you conceited child! I have something to do. I want to touch up that last plate of mine. It is the best I have done yet; and then I will take a short stroll by the river and see if there is a pretty leaf or branch lying on the bank. And, Hazel, if there should be anyone at The Rectory whom you would care to ask here, do so. I will be very pleased to see them."

When Hazel reached The Rectory she found a pale, delicate-looking lady sitting beside Mrs. Hewson in the drawing room, listening to a tall, handsome young man who was evidently relating some amusing story. He was introduced as Dr. Hubert Haldene, though he looked almost too young to be a doctor.

After the necessary introductions were over, Mrs. Hewson said to Hazel, "I think you and my friends must be relations. Your name is Haldene, and so is theirs. What is your opinion, Mrs. Haldene?"

"Very likely we are connections, but it would be strange if we had come to this quiet place to meet new relations, wouldn't it, Hubert?"

"Yes, mother, but it would also be very nice," answered the young man, as his eyes rested approvingly on Hazel's fair face, and straight young form.

She seemed to be a lady, he thought. With what taste she had dressed herself! "Could you oblige us by making out a relationship, Miss Haldene?" he went on gravely.

Hazel smiled. "I never knew any of my father's friends," she said with a half sigh, "so I am afraid I cannot help you."

"We must call on your father and mother and question them," he continued, with happy persistence.

"They both died some years ago," she answered a little sadly.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," he said gently, sorry that he had pained her.

"Hazel lives with her adopted aunt near the town," put in Mrs. Hewson, to change the subject. "Miss Bird has such a charming house and garden. It is quite a show place."

"Hazel! What a pretty name," murmured Mrs. Haldene, languidly. "Hazel Haldene is a pretty combination: I seem to have heard it before. I have such a bad memory. Do you recollect hearing the name before, Hubert?"

"I do, but it belonged to a poor child who came one wet evening, long ago, with a letter to you. I was struck by the name, and by the refined look and tone of the child. You remember she did not want to take any money, and we forgot to find out where she lived."

"Did the child fall down on the steps in a fainting state? And did she faint outright? And did a servant carry her into your house and lay her on a sofa in the kitchen?" questioned Hazel eagerly, while a red flush rose to her face.

"Exactly so," he answered in no less eager tones. "And I remember remarking what pretty hair the child had."

"I was that child," said Hazel slowly. "Father was dead then, and mother was dying. We had no friends in London, and no one to do anything for us except a dishonest lodging house woman."

"Oh, if we had only known your story, we could have helped you, my dear," spoke Mrs. Haldene quickly, in regretful accents.

"You did help me very much, but as long as we were in the power of Mrs. Hill, help was of very little use to us."

"But you would take scarcely anything from me, and you would not tell me anything of yourself."

"I was ashamed of being a beggar, I suppose. My father was an artist, and we were well-off and happy in his lifetime."

"Was your father named Arthur Haldene?"

"Yes."

"Why, Hubert, she is a connection. Arthur Haldene was our second cousin. We lost sight of him some years before your father's death. Have you a likeness of your parents, my dear?" she continued, turning to Hazel.

"Yes, my father's portrait is in my bedroom."

"If you will permit me to see it, I will soon tell you whether he is the Arthur Haldene of whom I am speaking."

"If you come to my home you shall see it," Hazel answered, simply.

"In the meantime I intend to claim you as a relation," cried Hubert Haldene, "so come along, Cousin Hazel, and have a game of tennis."

Hazel, smilingly, went with him. She already liked this new relation very well indeed. There was a certain charm in his frank pleasant face, and in his unaffected manner.

That evening Dr. Haldene saw Hazel home, with Miss Bird's sedate maid, Anne, who had called at The Rectory for the young lady, walking solemnly behind the pair.

The next day Mrs. Haldene and her son visited Miss Bird, and it was soon clearly established that Hazel was indeed a connection, "a sort of cousin," as Dr. Hubert Haldene laughingly put it.

Miss Bird gave her visitors tea out of her wonderful old china cups and saucers, and showed them her old jugs and bowls and painted plates. She determined that any relations of Hazel's should be made thoroughly welcome.

"Did you say you painted this plate?" asked Mrs. Haldene, in bewildered accents, as her eyes rested wonderingly on the very extraordinary landscape which was daubed on the white surface in brightest greens and reds.

"Oh yes, but that is not my last attempt," replied Miss Bird, in complacent tones. "That is a little too pronounced in colour, I am afraid. I have a pretty landscape in greys and browns here, which you will like better. Ah, you are looking at the tree, Dr. Haldene. Trees are very difficult to paint. I cannot make them look quite natural, no matter how I work at them."

"I am sure they are difficult to paint," answered the young man. "I could never paint, or sketch, though I tried to do so to please my father. There was always an artist in our family. I am the first Haldene who refused to follow the family calling."

"Yes, his dear father was quite disappointed because he chose to be a doctor. But he never would have painted. His trees used to look just like full-blown cabbages."

"I am afraid the tree on that plate is rather like a cabbage standing on the end of a stick, now that you mention that vegetable," said Miss Bird, in a half-doubtful, regretful fashion. "But Hazel can paint trees, and indeed everything. I have a picture of hers hanging up in my shop. You must see it before you go away."

"Your shop?" exclaimed Mrs. Haldene, her eyes resting on the well-furnished room, and on the daintily dressed little spinster.

"Oh yes, I keep a shop. A book and picture shop. I must be doing something when I am not painting."

Fearing that his mother's evident amazement and curiosity would get the better of her natural kindliness and courtesy, Dr. Hubert said quickly to Hazel, "So, Miss Hazel, you paint. I am glad there is still an artist in our family. Do you mark that fact, mother?"

"Yes, indeed. We must see Hazel's picture. I must call you Hazel; you know you are a relation. Do you like painting?"

As she put the question she wondered if the girl's landscapes would be like those extraordinary ones of Miss Bird's, and if she would be required to admire them. She thought that it really would be sacrificing truth to good nature and politeness if she was obliged to say that shapeless green and brown daubs of paint were trees. She did not want to hurt the feelings either of her eccentric entertainer or her newly discovered relation, so she resolved to be guided in this dilemma by her son's manner and words.

"Yes, I am very fond of painting," answered Hazel. "I suppose I resemble my father in that respect."

"Come into the shop and see Hazel's picture," said Miss Bird, leading the way across the hall to the parlour-shop.

"Ah, that is beautiful indeed!" cried Mrs. Haldene, drawing a long breath of relief and pleasure as she looked at the river view which Hazel had taken from nature. "Is that bit of water in this neighbourhood?"

"Yes, it is part of the river just where the trees open to let you see the water from the road. We have a lovely river, and lovely trees on its banks. Many of them are green all the year round. My favourite walk of an afternoon is along the riverbank."

"Hazel thinks it is easier to paint on canvas than on china," remarked Miss Bird. "I suppose that is the reason her trees, and water and grass look so real. She won't try to paint on china. She believes it is better to do one thing well. Don't you think that she could paint well on china?"

"Indeed I couldn't, Auntie," cried Hazel, quickly.

"Of course china and canvas are not the same sort of material," answered Mrs. Haldene, wisely. "I suppose you require to learn each branch of the art separately. I think it would be better for Hazel to keep on painting on canvas as she knows all about it, and not venture to take up your work in addition."

"Well, perhaps you are right," replied Miss Bird, gravely. "I must work on alone, and try to find a subject for my great painting. I used to think that I would succeed in London, but there is so much misery and darkness there that I grew quite depressed at times, and quite unfit to work. I don't want to perpetuate poverty, and misery and blackness. I want something glad and bright to form a background for Christ. He pitied and loved the wicked, and poor and miserable; but I am sure He loved Heaven and the people in it. The streets are bright gold, and the people are clothed in white, and there is no misery, no wickedness in all the great, shining town. If happiness and brightness were not pleasing to Him, His Home would never have been in the Heaven described in the Bible."

"There is much misery in London," said Mrs. Haldene thoughtfully, while she looked with very kind eyes on Miss Bird's earnest, glowing face. "I know that, for Hubert and I try to alleviate the distress, though it is not much we can do. He finds out the bad cases, and either brings them to my house where I can talk to them, and feed and clothe them, or he takes them food and clothing himself, and tends to them too, if they need it. He has no settled practice yet. He means to buy one in some country place, for he does not love London, and meanwhile he helps me with my poor people."

"I don't think I could do better than set up the practice here, mother," said Hubert, as they walked back to The Rectory, after promising to spend an early evening with Miss Bird and Hazel. "There would not be much sickness here, but I have money enough to live without too many patients."

"It is a lovely place, and Hazel seems a dear, pretty child. If you must live out of London it would be nice certainly to be near a relation of your own."

Hubert smiled in a slow, curious fashion, but Mrs. Haldene continued gravely, "You would say she is young. I think she would be a pleasant and sensible friend for you, until you get that best of all earthly friends, a wife. My son, when will you marry? I introduced you to that good, lady-like girl, Susan Hunter, hoping you might take a fancy to each other. She would be the very wife for you, if she would have you."

"You are in a great hurry to get rid of me, mother," he answered laughingly. "What did you think of Miss Bird?"

"She must be very eccentric. Imagine her keeping a shop when she is so comfortably off!"

"We must never remark to anyone about her eccentricity. Hazel would be very hurt if we did so. I can see that she is very fond of her adopted aunt, and indeed, from what Mrs. Hewson told us, Miss Bird deserves both love and respect."

### Chapter 13

MRS. HALDENE soon went back to London, but her son returned to The Rectory after seeing her safely home. The senior doctor in Ashwood, Dr. Mason, was an old man, and he and Hubert Haldene became very friendly, the latter declaring that he meant to take his friend's place whenever he was willing to give it up to him.

Dr. Mason was glad enough to find such an able successor, telling the young man that he intended to retire in a year; so Hubert found it necessary to be much in Ashwood during the summer in order to grow acquainted with the surroundings of his future home.

Hazel and he were much together during those summer days. Mrs. Hewson asked the girl to The Rectory three or four times a week to play tennis, and Miss Bird often invited Hubert to drink tea with her and Hazel after some long walk by the river, or some drive into the country, which the little spinster had enjoyed as much as the young people. She grew quite fond of Hazel's new relation, and noted with some secret satisfaction the pleasure the young doctor seemed to take in Hazel's society. Though they always wished to include her in their rambles, and in their games of tennis, she often refused to go with them.

"You know I am no longer a girl, dear child," she would say to Hazel. "I am getting on in years now, and the old always like to take life easily."

"You are not old," Hazel would answer, with an amused laugh. "You will never be old, I believe, Auntie."

"Well, we will waive the point of age at present. Hubert takes good care of you. I would not let you go with him if he did not, so I am not uneasy about you when you are out of my sight. And if I don't stay more at home and try to compose my thoughts in earnest, the idea for my picture will never come to me."

Nothing further had been said by Miss Bird to Hazel about her mother's legacy, and the girl tried to forget all about that painful subject. She very nearly succeeded in doing so. Indeed, she had no leisure for unpleasant thoughts or sad dreaming.

Dr. Hubert Haldene was very matter-of-fact, and much given to looking on the bright side of everything. Miss Bird decided her was just the companion Hazel needed. Living quietly with her adopted Aunt, thinking of her pictures and associating with few of her neighbours, Miss Bird could see Hazel was growing unfit to battle with the hard, practical world, should she ever be obliged to come in contact with it, and unwilling to be in the company of those whose education and training had been less carefully attended to than her own.

One sunny afternoon in July, as Miss Bird sat in her shop beside the window, her paint box and plate before her, Dr. Haldene pushed the door open, and walked in.

"It is so hot outside, but you seem quite cool in here, Miss Bird. I declare you don't look a bit too warm."

"The window is open, my dear, and I have been calmly sitting here all the morning. You young folks do fuss so, and overheat yourselves for nothing. Now I suppose you have been playing tennis in the sun ever since breakfast? Ah, I thought so. It is no wonder you are warm." The short curls on either side of the little lady's face bobbed up and down excitedly as she nodded her head energetically at her visitor.

He laughed. "I consider you are more energetic than I am, and certainly you are far more energetic than Hazel. Where is Hazel? Tennis was no use without her this morning, though the fine Miss Brown was at The Rectory, playing indefatigably, and very well too."

"Oh, Hazel has just had her painting lesson. She is busy over such a lovely landscape now. Not the one she is doing with her master, but one she has worked at in private. It is an idea of her own. She says she wants some grass and a leaf or two for it. She is going out this afternoon to see what she can find."

"I know ever such an attractive place to which we have never been yet," said Hubert eagerly. "She must let me go with her."

"Very well," replied Miss Bird placidly. "You can speak to her about it when she comes downstairs. When are you going back to London?"

"Not until the end of this month. I must take my mother to some seaside place when I go back, and I know she is going to ask you and Hazel to accompany us. Won't you come, dear Miss Bird?"

"I can't promise," replied Miss Bird, a slight shadow crossing her face. "I never care for being in other people's houses. I am best at home with Hazel; she understands me. But I must not let my selfishness interfere with my dear child's pleasure. She can go. I am sure she will enjoy it, for she likes your mother." She was nearly adding "and you," but she refrained.

"You must not say you are selfish, for you are not," spoke Hubert earnestly. "I am afraid Hazel will not come without you, and I do so want her----" He stopped suddenly and looked confused for a minute, but Miss Bird went on mixing her paints as if he had made a most ordinary remark.

He turned over the leaves of a picture book lying on the table, he looked out of the window, and then he said in a half-hesitating, half-confident fashion, "You know that I am fond of Hazel, don't you, Miss Bird."

"Yes."

"I don't mean that I am fond of her in a cousinly way."

"I think I understand you, my dear, and I don't think I would be afraid to give you my dear child when she is older. She is not much more than seventeen yet."

The young man stooped and kissed the hand that held the paintbrush. "Thank you, dear friend. I don't want to take her quite away from you, should she be willing to come with me. You must come too, Miss Bird. It is time enough to talk of all this. I did not intend to say anything about it, but it slipped out somehow. Ah, here is Hazel. Good afternoon, young lady. May I help you to find that grass and those leaves you are going to look for?"

"Ah, Auntie has been telling you about the picture. She should not have revealed my secret," said Hazel, laughing as she shook her head at Miss Bird. "Yes, you may come, if you promise to bring me to a lovely place. I do want something special for one corner of my picture."

"I can bring you to quite a new place where we are sure to find what you want. Come, let me carry that little basket for you. We will be back to tea, Miss Bird."

"Very well. But I thought you had company at The Rectory."

"Yes, Miss Brown and her father are there, but I am your company."

Miss Bird and Hazel laughed.

"Just come here for a moment, Hazel," said the former with sudden seriousness. "What do you think of that bunch of lilies? I am afraid it is rather rigid."

"It is a little ... rigid," replied Hazel gravely, as she looked at what was supposed to be a bunch of lilies, but the resemblance to which was so slight that the lilies themselves would have been indignant at being so caricatured.

"Lilies are difficult flowers to group gracefully, I think. They look better alive than painted. Shall I bring you a few wild flowers, Auntie? You like to work them into your landscapes."

"Yes, do dear. Now I must not delay you too long, or the sunny afternoon will be gone."

When Hazel and Hubert sauntered out of the old-fashioned, sweet smelling garden together on to the sunny tree shaded road, slow tears gathered in the little spinster's bright eyes. One by one each heavy drop fell unheeded on the plate she held, and made the blues and greens, and the yellows and whites of the flowers more than ever like great shapeless daubs. When her sight became so dimmed that she could not see the colours, she dropped the plate with a dismayed exclamation.

"Why what is the matter with me? Am I crying because my dear child will have someone to take care of her when I am gone away to meet her mother and father? How weak and foolish! I ought to laugh for joy this sunny afternoon. He is a good man, and he will take care of her. Oh, I know all that, and ... well, I am sure she won't leave me alone. If they ask me to go with them, I will go. My Hazel will never let anyone mock me. Mrs. Haldene is kind too. But ... but what about the mother's legacy? We are forgetting that. We must not forget it. In our happiness we must remember her mother's command. We must at least make an effort to obey it. I am almost afraid to mention it to Hazel again. It will cloud her happiness, as it did before. Oh dear, oh dear, it is a perplexing world if one thinks too much."

Meanwhile Hazel and Hubert sauntered on until they came to the river, the beautiful, tree shaded river surrounded by hills, flowing lazily over the stones in its bed with a soft, lapping sound, a shiny wavy line through the summer land.

"Sit down, Hazel, on this tree trunk. It will be a dry seat for you, though I don't believe any moisture can linger on the grass such a day as this, even if we are just down on the water's edge here."

"I am not tired, but I am lazy," said Hazel, as she obeyed her companion. "The sun is too warm for much exertion today. We must not forget Auntie's flowers, or my leaves."

"Oh I will gather you the flowers, and search for the leaves by and by. Do be quiet now, like a good child."

"You are really and truly lazy," she answered laughingly, as he threw himself down on the grass close to her.

"I have been playing tennis all the morning, and you have been quietly painting, my dear Hazel. Will you paint me a picture of yourself? I shall be leaving this place sometime, I suppose, and I would like to have something to remind me of the good time I have had here."

"How could I paint myself?" she asked in some amusement. "I don't always recollect what I am like exactly. I know I have brown hair and brown eyes, but that is all I know certainly about my personal appearance. How could I catch the expression of my face? They say expression is the chief thing about a portrait."

"That last would be a difficulty, for your face has many expressions," he said, in a thoughtful tone. "Well, suppose you gave me your likeness. Miss Bird told me a travelling photographer took you both very well early in the spring."

"Oh yes, I can give you one of those, if you must have my likeness," she replied, with a little smile. "But I am afraid you easily forget your friends, if you require to have their pictures to keep them in remembrance."

"There is no danger of my forgetting you," he said slowly. "But I would like to have your photograph. Will you have mine?"

"Yes, if you wish to give it to me; but my memory is not so short as yours."

He made no answer, taking the photograph from his pocket book, and handing it to her.

She received it with a simple "Thank you," and an amused glance at his grave face.

Presently she rose from her seat and wandered slowly up and down the grassy bank, picking a flower here and there, and a stray leaf or two that had been thus early shaken down from the overshadowing trees. The leaves were nearly all of various shades of green yet. By and by the red and brown tints would predominate, and some of the trees would be colourful enough until the breath of late autumn stirred sadly in their branches.

Bees were moving drowsily over the fields on the opposite side of the river; the air was all alive with countless winged things that fluttered in and out amongst the river grasses and the bracken in a leisurely fashion, as if they too were conscious of the glowing sunrays.

A tiny grasshopper jumped out of Hazel's way as she stooped to pick a feathery spray of grass, she and it the only creatures apparently whom the summer heat had not soothed into a state of listless quietude. On the grass Hubert lay watching Hazel with loving, approving eyes, wondering at her energy, and advising her to come back to her seat in the shade.

When she had gathered a handful of wild flowers she returned to him. "See," she said, holding out to him the pretty, scentless vagrants, "what a bunch I have gathered for Auntie. The worst of it is that they won't keep alive very long; scarcely long enough for her to sketch them. A bunch of roses would keep fresh for several days."

"Naturally your wild flowers prefer the fields to indoor rooms. I should -- in summer certainly."

"I suppose we ought soon to return to tea. We were late in coming out, and Auntie has been alone nearly all day. I wonder if she will have tea in the garden. There are some lovely roses there now, and many a sweet-smelling flower."

"She is sure to have tea there, if she thinks you will like it."

"Yes, she is a dear Auntie."

"She is the only aunt you have, isn't she?" asked Hubert, as he rose from the grass and held out his hand to the girl leaning against the tree trunk, her hands clasped behind her head, a contented, happy expression on her fair face.

"The only real auntie," she replied with a sudden frown, and in hasty indignant accents.

Rupert was astonished for a minute at the sudden change in her manner. He had never before heard Hazel speak in such a tone, or seen a cloud in her bright eyes. He was curious to know what had stirred her so unpleasantly, and half inclined to ask further questions, but the thought that he might pain her by doing so prevented him from gratifying the inclination.

"My mother had a brother and sister," said the girl, after a short pause, as she gathered her flowers and grasses together and rose to her feet, "but this is too nice a day to talk about them. They are nothing to me, nor I to them. Please don't let us speak of them."

"By all means let us banish unpleasant people and topics," he answered lightly. "It is too nice a day, as you say, to spoil in anyway. It will come to an end all too soon."

They sauntered slowly homewards, saying little to each other, contented enough to be together in the sunshine. Hazel again forgot all about Miss Goodworthy, and when they reached Miss Bird's door, a wonderful sweet happiness filled all her heart, and she marvelled at the beauty of the day, at the kindness of everyone to her, and at her own glad sense of wellbeing.

Tea was laid on a little table on the grass in the back garden, and Miss Bird in one of her flowered silks was waiting to receive them, a pink blush of pleasure on her face. On the table were delicate cakes, a glass dish piled high with fruit, a tiny china tea service of exquisite pattern, and a great bunch of roses. Hazel clapped her hands with delight when her eyes rested on the dainty repast.

"It is good to live on such a day as this," she said, a glad ring in her young voice. "Oh, Auntie, it has been such a beautiful afternoon; and now to crown it all, you have spread a feast for us fit for the fairies."

Miss Bird smiled at Hazel's pleasure expressed so freely, and Hubert smiled also. It was evident to both of them that the girl had not the least idea of how much the latter's presence had contributed to her enjoyment of the summer day.

"Sit down and do justice to the fairy repast, my dear Hazel. Did you and Hubert forget to bring me home those flowers? I will forgive you if you have forgotten them."

"No, indeed, Auntie, we did not forget. I brought you a great bunch of wild flowers. They are in that brown vase in the hall. I put them into water at once, they wither so quickly."

"You never do forget me," said the little lady, a gratified smile on her lips, but a bright tear glistening in her eyes for an instant.

They were a very happy party out there under the trees, the soft summer breeze, fragrant with the scent of the roses and mignonette fanning each of them with gentle movement, the low musical hum of the bees in the distance filling up the rare pauses in the merry talk. Of all the perfect summer days that she had known, Hazel thought this one had been the most perfect, as with a half sigh she opened her little box that night in her bedroom, and put Hubert Haldene's likeness amongst her other treasures.

### Chapter 14

THE next day Hubert Haldene went to London to pay a short visit to his mother, expecting to return to Ashwood by the end of the week. The sun was not so hot as it had been the day before, and now and then a dark cloud concealed it from view altogether. Miss Bird shivered a little as she stood at the hall door to see Hazel off to her painting lesson.

"I'm afraid it will rain, Hazel. You had better take an umbrella."

"I could not easily carry an umbrella and this big painting. I don't believe it will rain much until I get back."

"Why are you bringing that great case today, dear? It is very heavy to carry."

"Yes, it is heavy, but Mr. Jones wishes to see the picture. Oh, if the rain does come down it won't do me any harm. Goodbye for the present, Auntie." With a kiss and a wave of her hand, Hazel hastened away, her usual quick step much impeded by the heavy drawing case.

When the lesson was over, she felt half inclined to leave the large picture behind in the school and send the maid for it that evening. She did so want to walk home across the fields, but how could she do so with that great thing under her arm? She hesitated a moment, then she took up the case and went out, thinking it better to touch up the picture here and there that day, as Mr. Jones had suggested. If she waited until the following day, she might forget his suggestions.

She crossed the fields leisurely, stopping every now and then to look round her, or to rest herself on some stone or some dry tuft of grass. She had not proceeded very far in this manner when she heard a piercing shriek that rang distinctly over the fields, causing her to drop the heavy drawing case and stare all round her in dismayed astonishment.

Over in the farthest corner of the field, near the hedge, she saw a cow running after the flying figure of a woman, and she saw by the way in which the woman tried to run that the cow would soon catch her. She seemed old and terror-stricken.

Without pausing for an instant to consider the risk she incurred, Hazel picked up the drawing case and rushed towards the cow, intent on preventing it from reaching the woman and knocking her down. But the distance was greater than she thought. Another piercing shriek rang out, and then the woman fell to the ground, the cow nearly falling over her in its mad fury. Hazel called out as loudly as she could, hoping to attract the attention of the animal, and then breathless, and nearly exhausted, she reached the spot just as it lowered its head preparatory to tossing its intended victim into the air on its horns.

Gathering all her strength together, Hazel raised the drawing case in her hands and flung it straight at the animal's head. The strings became unfastened, and the large picture and several sheets of drawing paper and a box of paints flew out in all directions. The unexpected blow, and the things flying about, so frightened and startled the angry animal that it turned away and fled from the field, leaving Hazel astonished and overjoyed at the success of her strange attack.

Then she turned her attention to the woman who was in a fainting condition from terror, but apparently unhurt otherwise. She must be got out of the field at once. The cow might recover from its fright and return to the charge with redoubled fury. If only some man would come! There were always people going through these fields. Why were they so empty now? Oh, if only Hubert would suddenly appear. Alas, Hubert was in London.

Yes, there was a man at last, and coming towards her too. She raised her voice and called loudly for help. Evidently the man heard her, for he hastened on.

"What's the matter here? Why it is Miss Hazel Haldene and Miss Goodworthy! Heart alive, what's happened?" The newcomer was John Hind, husband of the landlady of The Shepherd's Inn.

"A cow was running after her, and I flung my drawing case at its head, and it fled," explained Hazel, with trembling lips and a pale face. "Hurry, please, and carry her out of the field. I am not strong enough to do it. The cow may come back."

"Not it; and if it does my stick will soon settle it. That's a nasty brute. Job must kill her after this. Oh, I know the animal well. We're always talking to him about her. To think that she should have run at Miss Goodworthy! The poor dear lady's nearly dead from fright. You are a brave young lady, for sure," he concluded admiringly, as with many an exclamation of wonder he tried to raise Miss Goodworthy in his arms.

Finding the task beyond his strength, he bade Hazel remain where she was while he went to the inn for assistance.

"I won't be long," he said, reassuringly. "Don't you be frightened, Miss Hazel. The animal won't come back. I'll leave you this stick till I return. Just shake it in her face if she shows up."

"Oh, I couldn't do it," faltered Hazel, who was trembling in every limb, but not from fear only.

The man hurried off, leaving her standing gazing down at the unconscious face with mingled feelings of dislike and pity. So this old wrinkled woman, whose life she had in all probability saved at the risk of her own, was one of the two people whose hard-hearted cruelty had killed her gentle mother, and made her an orphan.

If she had known who the old woman was, would she have gone to her assistance? Would she not have refused to listen to that cry for help, as long ago, in the years that were dead, this woman had refused to listen to her only sister's cry for help. Ay, it would have been justice to have turned a deaf ear to her appeal.

A slow, angry light dawned in Hazel's eyes. A half bitter, wholly sorrowful exclamation escaped her as she thought of that snowy evening when she and her mother had been turned away from The Priory -- turned away to face bitter cold, and hunger, and death. No, cruelty and injustice deserved punishment, not reward as Miss Bird had endeavoured to persuade her on the evening she had delivered up the wedding ring, and told her of her dead mother's commands.

John Hind came back across the field just then with a stretcher, and a couple of men. "Has she been like that ever since?" he inquired anxiously. "She must be a great deal worse than I thought at first. Take her gently, men. Maybe she's broken a bone in her fall. She's not young enough to bear such falls and such frights easily."

When she was lifted on to the stretcher, Miss Goodworthy opened her eyes, and groaned feebly.

"We'll take you as quickly and as gently as we can to The Priory, ma'am," said John Hind, in sympathetic tones.

"Hazel! Hazel! Won't you come with me, Hazel?"

"The poor lady wants you with her, Miss Hazel. Joe will pick up your pictures and take them home, and tell Miss Bird what has happened. You don't look over-fit to walk to The Priory, but it isn't far."

"She saved my life," moaned Miss Goodworthy. "Surely she won't refuse to come home with me."

Hazel looked down with stern, cold eyes at her aunt. "I do refuse to go with you. You have no claim on me. You have no right to my obedience. I am almost sorry I saved your life, you cruel, hard, unforgiving woman."

Hazel turned away and gathered up her papers and paints, telling the men to hurry away to The Priory. With much inward wonder, she was obeyed, John Hind hastening on before to tell Dr. Mason, and to prepare Mr. Goodworthy for his sister's appearance.

Hazel got home at last, and as soon as she entered the breakfast parlour where Miss Bird sat painting, she let her drawing case drop from her hands, and bursting into tears, sank into the nearest chair. All excitement and amazement, Miss Bird caressed and soothed her, begging her to explain what had happened to distress her.

Presently Hazel forced back her tears, and in broken, faltering sentences, told of Miss Goodworthy and the cow, keeping nothing back.

"You poor, dear child! No wonder you are in such a nervous state. How brave you were, and how fortunate it was that you had that heavy case with you. You have indeed saved your Aunt Jane's life. Would not your mother have been glad of your bravery? Ah, your Aunt evidently knew you. I have always believed that both your Aunt and Uncle knew quite well all these years that you were their niece. You say she wanted you to go with her. This is just the first step towards reconciliation which your dear mother longed for."

Hazel made an impatient movement. "Don't say anything more about it, Auntie, please. I only hope I haven't spoiled my picture for the sake of that woman."

Miss Bird made no reply, a puzzled, weary expression resting on her face for an instant.

Hazel knew perfectly well what that expression meant, but she rose up hastily, and with a quick kiss on Miss Bird's forehead left the room and went up to her bedroom. Throwing her hat on the bed, she sat down by the open window and took out her mother's picture and her mother's ring from her little box, and gazed at them coldly and half-angrily at first, but at last through blinding tears.

Though her mother had been dead for so many years, the girl loved her still with a passionate, fervent love that no time seemed to have the power to lessen. It appeared to her but yesterday that they lived together in that lodging house in London, where she had been Mrs. Hill's little servant, and where she had tried by every means in her childish power to keep her mother with her. The day that she had pawned that ring stood out clearly in her memory, and the anguish in her mother's eyes she had never forgotten.

She pressed her lips now to the ring, and to the pictured face, smiling at her with such serene, loving eyes. She had always been "mother's dear little daughter, mother's affectionate, obedient little daughter." What was she now? Was she rebelling against Jesus Christ's instructions, and against her mother's command? Her beloved, adopted Aunt had hinted that she was no better than Mr. and Miss Goodworthy when she refused to try and reconcile them to her? Was it true?

Suddenly falling on her knees beside the bed she cried aloud, "Oh God, help me to do right. I don't want to do it -- help me! My resentful proud spirit is governing me. Help me to overcome the evil within me, for Christ's sake."

As she rose from her knees, a gentle knock sounded on her bedroom door. When she opened it, Miss Bird said half-hesitatingly, "Dr. Mason is here, Hazel. He says Miss Goodworthy is in a high state of fever, very ill indeed, and that she keeps continually calling for you. She has told them all at The Priory that you are her niece, that she wants you, and you won't come to her. She won't be quieted. The doctor has come for you. Will you go back with him for a little while?"

The struggle within her was great even yet, then she said quietly, "Yes, I will go back with the doctor for a little while, if you can spare me, Auntie."

"I will gladly spare you, dear," answered Miss Bird, joyfully. She could scarcely believe that she had heard aright.

"I hope to return tomorrow, but I suppose I must sleep in The Priory tonight."

So Hazel went with Dr. Mason to The Priory, the first time she had ever crossed the threshold of her mother's home, although she had lived near it for so many years.

Deborah opened the door. She was a very old woman now, and her trembling hands trembled more than ever as she took Hazel's bag from her, and murmured tearfully, "You are welcome to The Priory, dear Miss Maria's child. It is time you came home."

Hazel smiled faintly, and thanked the old servant for her kind words. She felt they would be the only welcome she would receive at present. She followed the doctor up the broad carpeted stairs like one in a dream. She wondered if she should suddenly waken up and find that it was all really a dream.

The house was quiet, there was not a sound to be heard anywhere. Was the stillness owing to the sick woman lying talking incoherently in her bed, or was it the habit of the house? Was this the place her mother loved so much, and called home? Home! It would be a dreary home for anyone. Deborah had welcomed her home. This was not her home. All the young life in her stirred and rebelled against the idea of calling that dismal, silent house "home."

"Here is your aunt's room," said the doctor, speaking in low tones, "but I think we must tell your uncle that you have come. Ah, here he is. I have brought your niece, Mr. Goodworthy."

"How do you do, Hazel. I think Hazel is your name," said Mr. Goodworthy, politely. "It was kind of you to come to Miss Goodworthy. She says you saved her life. Allow me to thank you for that service. My poor sister is naturally rather feverish. It is not good for old people to undergo such excitement. She has been talking a great deal of nonsense, I believe. You must not allow her to frighten you. We have turned one of the servants into a nurse. She will sit up with your patient tonight, doctor. I hope you will find yourself comfortable, Hazel, and I hope you will not think of sitting up all night with my sister. It would be really too bad if she had to do such a thing, doctor."

"Oh, I hope there will be no need for that," replied the doctor cheerfully.

"Well then, I won't detain you further at present. I see you are both impatient to be in the sick room. Call me, doctor, if I can do anything for you. We have family prayers at eight o'clock, Hazel. I like to see all in the house assemble together with me at that time."

Hazel made no answer. She was still as one in a dream. She did wonder within herself whether her uncle conducted family prayers the night he turned her mother away from his door, and if he prayed, "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us."

She silently followed the doctor into her aunt's room, a large handsome apartment looking out on the avenue which led up to the hall-door.

"Hazel! Hazel!" cried out the shrill voice from the bed.

"I am here," answered Hazel, going over to the bed. She could not say "aunt" yet.

"Poor Maria's child is here at last, is she? That little gaudy madwoman said we murdered Maria. But we never murdered her. She took her own way -- it was a bad way -- and she died. I didn't kill her. Oh yes, I turned her and her child away from the door, and they are still wandering about in the snow out there under the trees. I can see them when I look out of my window at night. I often wanted to sleep in the back of the house, where I wouldn't be forever seeing Maria's white, reproachful face, and her child's angry unbelieving one. But I can't change my bedroom; something always prevents my doing it. Good Christians! -- of course we're good Christians, and charitable ones too. My brother is a pattern to all men, and we read our Bibles regularly, and have family prayers. The Goodworthys were always professing Christians, and regular churchgoers. What did that madwoman mean by saying that God would shut us out from Heaven? If He does not let us into Heaven, who will be saved? Look out of the window, doctor. There is poor Maria wandering about in the snow. She must be cold, but that is not my fault. I bear her no malice. Her child is not with her. Is Hazel dead? Little Reconciliation, her mother called her in one of her letters. Hazel, Hazel! Where is Hazel?"

"Here, aunt" murmured Hazel gently, as she laid her soft cool hand on the sick woman's burning brow.

The gentle touch seemed to soothe and quiet the fever-racked brain, and with a plaintive, half-incredulous, "Poor Maria's child saved my life,' Miss Goodworthy fell asleep.

### Chapter 15

THE next morning Miss Goodworthy was much better. Hazel and a servant had sat up all night with her, and she had slept quietly at intervals, calling softly for Hazel whenever she awakened, as if she feared her niece would go away and leave her. Miss Bird sent a note to The Priory to know if she could do anything for Hazel, and inquiring what Hazel's plans were.

Hazel purposed remaining in The Priory only a day or two longer, until Miss Goodworthy had quite recovered from the shock her nerves had sustained. The idea of making her home with her relations never seriously entered her head. She would live with her dear adopted aunt, and visit The Priory frequently, and try in every way possible to obey her mother's command to bring the spirit of love and forgiveness into the old home. She would try and make these two old people love her, and she would try and love them herself.

Difficult though the task would be which she had set herself to perform, in accordance with Christ's and her mother's command, she meant to persevere hopefully and cheerfully until success crowned her efforts. Her aunt appeared inclined to meet her halfway, as if she was willing to atone for cruelty to the mother by especial kindness to the child.

But Mr. Goodworthy seemed to have no such intention. He spoke courteously to Hazel, and thanked her for nursing his sister, just as if the girl was a stranger who had never had any claim on him, and of whom he had never spoken unkindly.

After a day or two spent at The Priory, Hazel began to understand her uncle better. She saw that he never for an instant thought he was to blame for his action with regard to his dead sister. She saw that he read his Bible daily; conducted family prayer night and morning; attended church as regularly as he could; gave away money for charitable purposes; and talked on religious subjects constantly. Hazel could see he was sincere in his Christianity as far as it went, but she was amazed beyond measure to hear him speak angrily to the servants, and even to his sister, and conduct family prayers immediately afterwards.

When Miss Goodworthy was able to leave her bedroom, a week after the shock she had sustained, Hazel left The Priory and was welcomed home by Miss Bird with glad thankfulness. "Were you not lonely without me, Auntie?" asked the girl, as she returned her adopted aunt.

"Lonely? Yes, I was indeed lonely. I felt as I used to do long ago when I lived by myself, and no one cared whether I went out or remained at home. But my pet is looking pale. How is that? I am afraid you have been confined too much to the house. You have been so accustomed to open-air exercise that you have missed it. I always thought the grounds round The Priory were lovely."

"Perhaps they are, Auntie," answered Hazel indifferently, "but I had not any opportunity of judging. Miss Goodworthy would scarcely let me out of her sight for a minute during the day."

"Is she quite well now?"

"Oh, yes, I think so. She is still very nervous. The doctor says she will never completely recover from that. Mr. Goodworthy reproves her for being so foolish, but of course it has no effect. She cannot help being nervous."

"No, certainly not, poor thing. It must have been an awful shock, and she is not young now. Do you like her, dear?"

"I try to like her, indeed I do," Hazel replied earnestly. "I am very sorry for her. She is so helpless now, and she seems unhappy about the way she treated my mother. When she was in bed she was always thinking and speaking about mother, but after she left her room she never mentioned her. I think she is afraid of Mr. Goodworthy, although she does answer him back when he is angry, or when he reproves her or the servants. Oh, yes, he does get angry, very angry sometimes, and he holds family prayers immediately afterwards."

"Dear me, I think he is a little peculiar," said Miss Bird hesitatingly, and with the old perplexed look.

"Oh, no, he is not a bit peculiar. He believes he is right to be angry when anything happens to annoy him. He has no idea of restraining his indignation, even though he prays that the members of his household may overcome their angry tempers, and put a curb on their tongues."

"If we talk about him this way, won't it be more difficult for you to learn to love him and Miss Goodworthy?"

"You are right, Auntie. I suppose it is wrong of me to talk in this fashion, but I couldn't help seeing and hearing it all when I was at The Priory."

"No, dear, but you know you have to bring the spirit of love and forgiveness into your mother's old home."

"Yes, but I must have more of the spirit myself, before I can hope to be successful."

"It will grow, dear. I think it must grow in you while you are trying to make the lives of your aunt and uncle happier."

When Hazel sat at tea with Miss Bird in the parlour overlooking the rose garden, she said, with a certain hesitation in her voice, "Has Dr. Haldene come back, yet, Auntie?"

"No, dear, but I had a letter from him yesterday. His mother has been very ill, and he has been obliged to take her to Torquay for change of air. It seems she was ailing for some time past, and never told him of it. When he went home he was shocked to see her looking so poorly. He is very fond of his mother. He made her leave London at once and go to a more genial air. She is better, but he cannot leave her yet. He inquired most particularly for you, and says he will write again. I sent him a letter yesterday, telling him about your adventure and your visit to The Priory. When are you going to see your aunt and uncle again?"

"I think I will go in for an hour tomorrow."

"Do, dear. I would go in every day for a while, if I were you."

"But what about you? Won't you want me?"

"I will try not to be selfish," said Miss Bird.

"I will go to The Priory about three times a week, and no oftener," Hazel said decidedly. "I owe everything to you, and I love you and my home. You must always be considered first. Uncle never asked me to return to The Priory."

"But Miss Goodworthy did."

"Oh, yes, but when uncle was present she renewed her invitation in a very half-hearted way."

"Never mind that," said Miss Bird cheerfully. "Things will all come right in the end. Of course you did no painting while you were in The Priory. Come and look at my new plate. I painted those wild flowers on it that you and Hubert Haldene brought me home that day. Little did we think when we sat happily over our tea that evening that such unexpected things were going to happen."

When Hazel went to her bedroom that night, she unlocked the box that contained her treasures, and gazed for a long time at her mother's picture, and then at Hubert Haldene's. She missed her companion very much, and longed constantly for his presence.

When she was at The Priory she wanted him the most. His cheerful voice and brisk step would have chased away the gloom of the old house, and lightened her task, oh, so much. But he was far from her now, and she did not know when she should see him again. Her head went down on her hands, and she sighed deeply once or twice. If she had been a girl given to tears she could have wept bitterly for disappointment at not meeting him when she came home from The Priory.

The next day her natural cheerfulness returned, and she moved about the house singing snatches of songs, and chatting merrily to Miss Bird. There was no restraint in her own home. She felt like a freed captive as she flitted in and out of the garden, and painted, and even attended to the shop.

"It was so dreadfully solemn and precise at The Priory," she complained to Miss Bird. "It is so lovely to be at home again."

"But you will try to like The Priory," said the little spinster anxiously.

"Yes, I like it in a degree," laughed Hazel. "The gardens might be made something of, if uncle would listen to reason. By the way, he never asked me to call him 'Uncle,' neither did aunt."

"But your mother would have wished you to do so, I believe."

"Perhaps," replied Hazel, doubtfully.

When she went to The Priory on the following day, Miss Goodworthy greeted her half-gladly, half-reproachfully.

"Why didn't you come yesterday?" she asked in querulous tones. "I expected you all day, and it made me ill again to be disappointed. You should have come. I am your real aunt, and have more right to your attention than that wicked madwoman who spoke so disrespectfully to your uncle and me."

"If you ever say anything against Miss Bird again I will never come near you, or speak to you more," cried Hazel, flushing hotly in her anger, and stamping her foot. "You are no aunt of mine, even if you are my mother's sister. I might have died of starvation for all you or your brother cared. I don't come here because I love you or this gloomy old place, but because my dear mother told me to do so."

"We are infinitely obliged to your dear mother, I am sure," said Mr. Goodworthy in sarcastic tones, as he entered the room and looked in much astonishment at his angry niece. "But we really don't want you. We have lived long enough without Maria, and we don't want her bad-tempered daughter now in our old age. You have not done my sister Jane much good, have you?"

Miss Goodworthy was huddled up in her armchair, trembling excessively, and weeping hysterically.

"I have heard it said that Hazel Haldene was a professing Christian, but I am afraid this is only another proof that there is much hypocrisy in the world, even among nominal Christians."

Furiously indignant with her uncle, and angry and ashamed of herself for giving way to such passionate rage, Hazel yet could feel a certain pity for the poor, nervous old woman who was sobbing and moaning in turn, her face pressed close to the pillows of the chair.

For an instant Hazel stood silently looking on the ground, and then she said with a great effort at self-control, "I ought not to have shown such temper. It was wrong, and I am sorry for it. My excuse is that I cannot listen to anyone speaking ill of my dear aunt, to whom I owe everything and to whom my mother owed so much. I will never listen to any such talk. I would be an ungrateful, false-hearted girl if I did, and besides, I do love her so."

"Miss Bird is not your aunt," interrupted Miss Goodworthy between her sobs. "I am the only aunt you have."

"Be still, Jane, and don't talk nonsense, if you please," said Mr. Goodworthy sternly. "I said nothing derogatory to Miss Bird's character."

"No," answered Hazel, in much calmer accents now, "but Miss Goodworthy did, and I must never hear such words again. Even my mother would approve of what I am saying now. I had better go home. I will come back tomorrow, when Miss Goodworthy is better."

When the girl had closed the hall door after her, Mr. Goodworthy said sharply to his sister, "Now, Jane, don't be so silly. Really, considering your age, you have been behaving like a weak-minded school miss. That girl set you a fine example, though she is so hot-tempered and self-opinionated."

Miss Goodworthy sat up in her chair, and dried her eyes. "Don't speak so harshly to me, Joseph," she pleaded, in unusually quiet accents. "Remember the awful fright I got. My nerves will never be the same again, the doctor says."

"I don't think you ever had much strong mindedness to boast of, even in your best days," he answered calmly. "You were not so silly as Maria, but that is all I can say. I must remark that Hazel does not take after her mother at all. She is very good looking, but alas, she has not learned to tame her temper. One is never a true Christian until all passion has been subdued. We should have ourselves completely under control. Self-control! That is the grand rule to guide all men, and women also. Women never learn self-control. See how you and Hazel proved the truth of that a short time ago, only in very different fashion, of course."

Miss Goodworthy listened with unwonted patience to her brother's remarks. She was glad to hear him praise Hazel, even ever so slightly, for she wanted him to consent to the girl's making The Priory her home. Ever since Miss Bird's visit to the house that night so long ago, she had had no peace of mind. She could never banish the dead sister from her recollection. She lay awake at night thinking she had killed Maria by cruelty and neglect, shuddering at the awful idea that she and Joseph might be shut out from God's presence for ever because of the unforgiving spirit that ruled them.

While such thoughts had power to render her miserable, she disliked Miss Bird with a dislike bordering on hatred for having put them into her head, and for having spoken so strongly on that spring night.

"Hazel saved my life, you know, Joseph, at the risk of her own also. I feel I owe her something in return. You don't dislike her, and after all she is our own niece. Let us take her to live with us, and leave her all our money. We have no one belonging to us to come after us in the old home, no one as near as she is. Her place is here, not with that little madwoman. Perhaps even we might get her to drop her father's name, or else add ours to it, so that a Goodworthy would still be mistress in The Priory. What do you say, Joseph?"

"It is all very fine, my dear Jane, but you forget she will in all probability marry. Women are so vain that the first man that flatters them enough can marry them. Remember Maria's case."

"Marry? Hazel shall never marry," declared Miss Goodworthy determinedly, passing over the insult to her sex, which at another time she would have strongly resented. "We will keep all young men away from her, and give her everything that she desires, so that she won't want to marry."

"Our sister Maria had everything that she desired, yet Arthur Haldene's flattery prevailed."

"Oh never mind Maria, now. She was ... she was just a little foolish, I suppose. Hazel is not a bit weak or foolish."

"As long as Hazel has Miss Bird's home open to her she will never come here," said Mr. Goodworthy, with conviction. "That vain person seems to have obtained a strong hold over the girl, so that she will be for ever hankering after her."

"Naturally Hazel likes her. She supported her all these years, and acted the part of a mother to her. But I am afraid that what you say is true, that madwoman is stronger than we are. But still, I think I can manage it, if you consent to adopt Hazel. We have the most right to her. She is our only sister's child."

"Do what you like in the matter, Jane, I will not oppose you in any way. Only I must warn you that I think you are only laying up another disappointment for yourself. It will be no disappointment to me if the scheme turns out badly, for I expect nothing else."

"But you will be pleasant to Hazel if she comes here?"

"I believe I am always pleasant to everyone," Mr. Goodworthy replied in dignified tones. "It is my duty, and I always try to do my duty. It is true that a prophet has no honour in his own country."

Miss Goodworthy looked after her brother with wondering, admiring eyes as he left the parlour. He was always so conscious of his own goodness, that no thoughts of poor Maria ever disturbed his peace of mind. What a fine, strong-minded old man he was! Well, he had never had any shock to upset his nervous system.

Meditating on her brother, and on that other subject always in her mind now, the old lady slowly left the parlour to give orders to have a bedroom prepared for Hazel at once.

### Chapter 16

WHEN Hazel next visited The Priory she found her aunt confined to her room suffering from a sort of hysterical attack. The girl wondered if the exciting scene a few days previously had been the cause of her aunt's depressed, unhappy condition, and she was very sorry for the poor lady, and reproached herself for being so unkind.

Taking advantage of her remorseful attentions to her, Miss Goodworthy succeeded in persuading her niece to remain a week at The Priory, telling her that she wanted her very badly, and that she would never say anything against Miss Bird again.

On the second day of her visit Hazel went round the grounds with her uncle and heard in some surprise his plans for improving the place, and putting the neglected gardens in order. He spoke without that usual sarcastic inflection in his voice, and listened to some suggestions she made about a rose garden as if he intended to carry them out. She recognised the fact that it would be possible for her to be on kindly, friendly terms with him, and she was very glad of it. Her task would perhaps be easier than she had hoped at first.

While Hazel was walking with her uncle, Miss Goodworthy put on her bonnet and shawl and paid Miss Bird a visit, very much to the little lady's astonishment. Miss Bird was sitting in her shop painting a small china bowl, a rather sad expression on her usually cheerful face. She missed Hazel sorely, though she had urged the girl to accept the invitation to The Priory.

She rose hastily when she saw who her visitor was, and asked her politely, but in some inward trepidation, how she could serve her.

Miss Goodworthy regarded the daintily clad little figure before her with much disfavour; while Miss Bird wondered, after her first confused sensation had passed away, if this bowed, withered old woman, with the dismal face and more dismal garments, could be the sister of pretty, gentle Mrs. Haldene.

"I do not want to buy anything, thank you," said the visitor in stiff, polite accents. "I came to speak to you about my niece Hazel."

"Pray take a seat. I hope there is nothing wrong with my dear child."

"Don't alarm yourself. My niece is quite well. I left her walking round the grounds with her uncle."

Miss Goodworthy tried to speak in a conciliatory tone, but she disliked and feared Miss Bird so much that the effort was nearly a total failure. "I believe it was her mother's desire that if we invited her, Hazel should make her home with us. My brother and I have talked it over, and we wish to give her a permanent home, and leave our money to her when we die. My brother is willing to forget how much poor Maria offended him. He is willing to acknowledge Hazel in every respect. I don't doubt that we could make her happy. I am already fond of her, though her outspoken ways try my shattered nerves very much at times. But there is an obstacle. I may say at once you are the obstacle."

Miss Bird looked bewildered.

"Yes, you are the obstacle, Miss Bird," went on Miss Goodworthy, trembling a little, and hesitating over her words now that she had come to the point. "The girl is fond of you, and thinks she owes you a debt of gratitude, and that if she left you and made her home with us, you would be lonely and unhappy. No doubt she does owe you something, but I don't think you ought to stand in her way if you are truly fond of her, and if you promised her dead mother that you would do all that lay in your power to reconcile us and the girl."

"I don't want to stand in her way," declared Miss Bird eagerly. "I did promise that I would do everything I could to bring about a reconciliation."

"Very good," continued Miss Goodworthy, growing still more nervous. "Then as long as you are here she won't come to us, that is certain."

"She is fond of me, I know," murmured the little spinster with glistening eyes.

"I wish you wouldn't interrupt me," cried Miss Goodworthy, in the querulous tones that were habitual to her now, suddenly casting aside her dignified manner. "If you are really sincere in all you say, you will go away from here while Hazel is with us, and leave no address behind you. You can write her a note saying that you have gone, and that she is to make her home with us. She can't follow you, and she will be obliged to live with us. Remind her of her mother's command, and tell her you wish her to make her home with us, and forget you."

"What, give up my dear child for ever?" gasped Miss Bird. "You can't mean that."

"It is just what I do mean. Be quick and decide. I must go home, or I shall be missed. Didn't you promise Maria that you would do anything to bring about a reconciliation? Promises to the dying are sacred."

"But what harm can I do Hazel by remaining here and seeing her sometimes? She can live with you, and she may even give up calling me 'Auntie,' but I must see her face sometimes. She has been the light of my eyes and the joy of my heart this many a year. You don't know the lonely miserable life I led before I had her. Oh let me see her sometimes. It is all I ask."

"So is my life lonely and miserable. I have known very little real happiness since Maria left us. If I take the child and give her a respectable, comfortable home, it may atone for any wrong I did the mother. You know you cannot give her such a home as I offer. You are not capable of bringing up a young girl properly."

"I am not very sensible," answered Miss Bird humbly, "but Hazel has come to no harm with me. I have had her well educated."

"You have had her foolishly educated. I hear she can paint, and that she has a weakness for daubing, as her father had before her. That was not a sensible education. Her father was never any good, and she will follow in his footsteps if not checked in time. Well, have you decided? Remember your promise to the dead."

"No, I have not decided," cried Miss Bird angrily, as she jumped up from her chair. "I don't understand the necessity for my going away and never seeing my girl again. She would be very unhappy if I did so. I will do all I can to help her to forgive her aunt and uncle. Her poor mother forgave them, and sent her love to them at the last, but I will not be so cruel to myself and my child as to leave her for ever. It is an evil suggestion. I will not do it."

She was staring out of the window as she spoke, and there was such a fierce wrathful glitter in her eyes that Miss Goodworthy left the shop as quickly as her shaking limbs would bear her, and only breathed freely when the heavy gate of The Priory was closed behind her.

Left alone, Miss Bird shut and fastened the shop door and sat down to think. She was too unhappy to weep, and almost too stunned by Miss Goodworthy's proposal to think clearly.

"Give up my Hazel? Never!" she declared vehemently. Whenever anything excited or troubled her she talked to herself. "I will keep my promise to Mrs. Haldene. I have tried to assist Hazel to bring the spirit of love and forgiveness into The Priory. I have tried to bring about a reconciliation, but I don't understand why I am never to see my girl again. There is no need to bring such misery on us both. Hazel will be miserable for many a day if I go away and leave her, and she won't understand why I have done so. She will think that my old roving disposition has returned, that her love was not strong enough to keep me at home.

"Miss Goodworthy is selfish and cruel. She and her brother never seem content unless they are making someone unhappy. Oh, why did I ever come to live in Ashwood? If I had stayed in London this blow would not have fallen upon me. Hazel would not have been brought into contact with her aunt, and Miss Goodworthy would not have grown to like her niece."

Here Miss Bird rose, and began to walk up and down the room, the indignant flush dying out of her cheeks, the angry glitter of her eyes giving place to a wistful, pleading look in helpless bewilderment.

"Her mother committed the child to my care, and I have done my best for her. Must I give her up now? Will it be for her good if I never see her face again? If I could be sure it would be for her good I would go away tomorrow. Miss Goodworthy said one true thing. Hazel will never live at The Priory as long as I am here, and it was the strongest desire of her mother's heart that she should do so, that she should bring love and forgiveness into the old home. Am I wrong? Am I selfish to refuse to go away?"

She rose now and went out into the breakfast parlour where the maid had laid the supper tray. Her face was white, her hands trembled, but there was a look of fixed determination in her eyes.

"Oh, ma'am, are you sick?" questioned the servant, as she once again entered the breakfast room to see whether her mistress had eaten her supper. "I was just going to the shop to call you. You've been such a time in there all by yourself. You must be sick ma'am, you do look awful."

"No thank you, Anne, I am not sick," answered Miss Bird gently, "but I don't want any supper tonight. You may take the things away. And, Anne, when your bed hour comes, go to bed. I shall not want anything more tonight. I will lock up."

While the little town of Ashwood slept peacefully, Miss Bird was noiselessly flitting about her house, packing up her precious plates and paints, and a few of her most valuable and best-liked cups and jars, and other old china treasures. She tossed her dresses and personal effects into a couple of trunks, but her china treasures she packed carefully into a strong box which she always kept with her when travelling. She disturbed none of the furniture of the house, except a picture painted by Hazel, which she took down from the wall in her room and put away in one of the trunks with her dresses.

When she had busied herself in this manner for several hours she grew so thoroughly exhausted that she lay down on her bed, dressed as she was, and slept until seven in the morning. Then she rose up hastily, went into Hazel's room, and taking pen, ink and paper out of the girl's desk, wrote her a note as Miss Goodworthy had directed her to do.

"When you receive this, my darling Hazel, your erratic Aunt will be far away from Ashwood. I am going on a long journey, and you must not attempt to follow me, for it would be quite useless to do so. You know I was always given to going off on journeys in search of china, so it is no new thing. I don't intend to make my home in Ashwood any longer. Let the furniture of the house be sold, with a few exceptions, and keep the money for yourself or give it to some poor person. The things in your own bedroom were all chosen with especial care by you and me. Take them with you, and furnish your bedroom in The Priory. You have said you liked your chairs and tables and bed and things. Take everything you wish, and make your room in The Priory look as home-like as you can.

"You must try and be happy and contented in The Priory. You must love your uncle and aunt; you must be true to your name for Christ's sake, and for your mother's sake. Don't forget your mother's legacy; and when you look at her ring, remember all she suffered, and how she loved and forgave your aunt and uncle. You can be very happy in The Priory, for your aunt already cares for you, and your uncle will soon do so. I am not fit to teach you anything about Christianity, but I would just like to say one thing: 'By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another.'

"Be patient with your aunt, and try to make your uncle love you. Don't be angry with them, and refuse to live with them because I have gone away. Remember, you cannot find me, so don't try to look for me. Remember that The Priory is your home now. Remember that you were the very light of my eyes and the joy of my heart; and I loved you always, and shall for evermore."

This letter was simply signed with Miss Bird's initials, and stuck into the frame of one of the pictures over the mantelpiece in Hazel's bedroom -- her father's picture. The girl would be sure to see it there. Then Miss Bird called her maid to her.

"Anne," she said, kindly, "I am unexpectedly obliged to go on a long journey. I don't intend to return to Ashwood again, so I shall not require your services any longer. You have been a good maid. I have no fault to find with you. There is a little present of money for you, because I am obliged to dismiss you in this hurried way, and because you have done your duty. Remain here till Miss Hazel comes \-- she may need you for something -- and then you can go home. Miss Hazel will speak a good word for you whenever you want to get another situation."

"Oh, ma'am, I'm so sorry you're going away," spoke the servant, while tears flowed down her cheeks. "I was very happy here."

"So was I, Anne, but I must go."

"Isn't Miss Hazel going with you? However will you do without Miss Hazel, ma'am?"

"I don't know, Anne. I must learn to do without her, I suppose."

An hour afterwards, Miss Bird and her trunks were in the train miles away from Ashwood; and Hazel, all unaware of the great sorrow in store for her, was talking to Deborah in the pantry about her Auntie, and rejoicing that she should see both later that day.

### Chapter 17

AUNTIE! Auntie! Anne, where is Auntie?"

"I don't know, Miss Hazel. She's just gone away for ever, and she don't want me anymore. She went away this morning early, trunks and all, and she said she wasn't ever coining back."

Hazel stared at the servant's red eyes and sorrowful face, and wondered if her ears were deceiving her.

"But I don't understand. Auntie wasn't going anywhere. She never told me she was obliged to take a journey. Surely you are making a mistake. She has gone out for a walk somewhere."

"No, Miss Hazel, I'm making no mistake. Folks when they goes out walking don't take three big trunks with them, and a box, and they don't pack up their crockery, leastwise their ornaments. The mistress gave me a present of a lot of money before she went, and she said you would speak a good word for me, Miss Hazel, when I want a new place. But I don't want no new place," went on the woman, bursting into tears. "I want to stay here. I was very happy with the mistress and you. However will she do without you? I said that to her when she was going away, and she gave me a look fit to break my heart."

Hazel turned away from the sobbing maid and walked unsteadily up to her own room. When she entered her room, the first thing she saw was the letter in the frame of her father's portrait. With a cry she seized it and opened it with trembling fingers. When she had read it, she sat gazing at it blankly. There were Miss Bird's words plain enough to understand. She was actually gone away, perhaps for ever, leaving behind her no clue as to her whereabouts.

Miss Bird had been quite contented with her life in Ashwood. She had never shown any desire to go wandering over the country in quest of china, as had been her habit in the long ago years when she had lived alone. What had stirred the old spirit in her so suddenly? Had it been really stirred at all? Might not some other motive have actuated her? She evidently knew that her sudden journey would cause much unhappiness; nay, she was evidently unhappy herself.

The tone of the whole letter was a despairing one. All at once Hazel jumped up from her chair with an angry exclamation, and rushed down the stairs and out of the house. When she reached The Priory she sought out her aunt who was sitting in the parlour with her brother, the latter calmly perusing a newspaper.

"What have you been saying to my dear Aunt to make her leave me and her home so unexpectedly? Is it to you that she and I owe this misery?"

"Why, Hazel, what is the matter? What do you mean by speaking to me in such a way?"

Miss Goodworthy was so genuinely astonished and startled that Hazel noticed it, angry as she was. Mr. Goodworthy laid down his newspaper but made no remark, watching his niece curiously the while.

"Read that," cried the girl, throwing Miss Bird's letter into her aunt's lap.

"I am not at all surprised at some parts of this letter, my dear Hazel," said Miss Goodworthy, as she folded up the paper carefully, inwardly rejoicing at Miss Bird's unexpected and unhoped-for action. "Your friend is, to say the least of it, peculiar. The only wonder is that she behaved like a rational individual so long. Now don't be angry with me. I can't bear your outbursts, but I must speak plainly once for all. I am not abusing your friend."

"Will you please to answer a plain question," cried Hazel impatiently, restraining her indignation with difficulty. "Did you say anything to Auntie to make her do this?"

"Would I speak to Miss Bird of my own free will? I am afraid of my life of her. She would never be influenced by me to do anything. Oh, how cruel you are, Hazel! My own niece, to whom I have shown nothing but kindness, wants to kill me."

Thereupon Miss Goodworthy fell into such violent hysterics that she was carried to her room, and the doctor sent for.

"I must caution you to control your temper, niece Hazel," reproved Mr. Goodworthy, sternly; but the girl's pale, despairing face, checked even his tongue, and obliged him to refrain from further remark.

For weeks Hazel was most unhappy, and most energetic in her endeavours to find Miss Bird. She advertised in all the newspapers. She even obtained the assistance of the police, but it was all in vain. Her uncle assisted her in her efforts, and seemed inclined to pity her; while her aunt, after her recovery, clung to her and besought her to obey her mother's wishes and make The Priory her home.

When the autumn faded into the winter, Hazel had grown accustomed to The Priory, and to her aunt and uncle. In her heart she longed and hoped for Miss Bird's return, but in the meantime she endeavoured to fulfil Christ's command, and her mother's wishes. She did not think that her aunt had sent Miss Bird away. Neither did she really believe that the old spirit of unrest had so seized on Miss Bird once more that she was unable to resist its influence. Indeed, she did not know what to think. She contented herself with praying earnestly for her dear, adopted aunt, night and day, asking that she might be influenced to return to her home in Ashwood.

"Hazel has got over her trouble," said Mr. Goodworthy to his sister one evening in the winter.

"Sometimes I think she has not got over it. She is much quieter than she used to be, and she is paler and more dignified. She will soon be eighteen, she says."

"She is learning to control her temper, I am happy to see," Mr. Goodworthy went on gravely. "A bad temper is a lamentable defect in a young person. Yesterday I was obliged to reprove her before the servants, and her face flushed and I could see she was ready with an outburst, but she restrained herself. Really she was much to be commended."

"It is that framed verse on her mantelpiece that helps her."

"What framed verse?" he demanded, with some curiosity.

'"By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another,'" quoted Miss Goodworthy, slowly.

"Oh ... ah ... yes, very nice indeed. The Bible is given to us for our instruction and guidance, but I fail to see how that verse helps Hazel to restrain her outburst of temper."

"Yes, I suppose you do fail. So did I at first, but I am beginning to understand now. I don't think I knew there was such a verse in the Bible, and certainly I had no idea it had such a wide meaning. Hazel makes it the rule of her life."

"Young Christians are always extravagant in their thoughts and professions, and often distort the meaning of the Bible. Now I am prepared to show that such a verse is not a sufficient guide for the Christian's life. It comes in no doubt, or it should come in, as an assistant, but to rule one's whole life by it is preposterous."

"If it had ruled our lives, we would not have turned poor Maria from our doors, and I would not have been the wreck I am."

"Jane, you grow more foolish daily. I was under the impression that you owed your nervous condition to your encounter with that cow in the summer."

"I can't argue with you as I used to do," replied Miss Jane, wearily, "but if that verse ruled your life, you would not speak so sharply to me."

An angry flush rose to Mr. Goodworthy's brow. "Really, Jane, such words do not become your lips. What about Miss Bird?"

"You knew all about my intention regarding that madwoman. You knew quite well what I was going to say and do, so you need not profess any ignorance. There was no harm in what we did. It was right to separate Hazel from such baleful companionship. The end justified the means."

Mr. Goodworthy made no reply. Strange to say, he had none ready.

Miss Bird's house had been left untouched, except that Hazel removed the furniture of her own bedroom to The Priory.

"Perhaps Aunt will come back some day to the home in which she was so happy, so it must always be ready for her, as if she was expected," said Hazel, and she went every few days and dusted the rooms and kept the gardens in order, and never allowed the blinds to be drawn down.

Anne, the maidservant, had been taken in by Mrs. Hewson at The Rectory where she was comfortable enough, but in the evening, when she was out, she glanced up with regretful eyes at the windows of her former home. She, too, would have been glad to have seen a daintily clad little figure standing in the garden, and a pretty face surrounded by curls smiling at her.

The winter seemed very long to Hazel. She had grown to love and pity her aunt in a fashion, and she had learned to listen with patient attention to her uncle's long discourses on religious and other subjects, and she was able very often to control her unruly tongue and temper when her uncle's preaching and practice did not agree, but for all that her heart was sore within her when she thought of Miss Bird.

Sometimes Hubert Haldene occupied her waking dreams, and she wondered at his silence and absence. He and she had been good friends; he had appeared glad to claim a relationship. Ah, what happy days those were, when they two wandered by the riverside, or played tennis in The Rectory gardens, or had tea out of Miss Bird's beautiful quaint china on the grass just outside the breakfast room window, with the roses and the mignonette, and many another sweet-smelling flower. The sun had never shone so brightly, the flowers never perfumed the faint summer breeze so fragrantly, the lovely shining river never looked so lovely, as on those days.

As the winter died out, and spring with its brighter mornings and clearer sky came, Hazel occupied herself much out of doors. The gardens were already beginning to look very different under her directions, and the avenue leading up to the hall door no longer wore a desolate, neglected appearance. She had painted very little since she had made The Priory her home. She knew her aunt and uncle did not like painting, because they did not like her dead father, so she had not yet finished her favourite picture out of deference to their spoken wishes. Some time she intended to go on with it, and to try and convince her uncle and aunt that there was no concealed evil in the art of painting, and that painters were not necessarily wicked people; but she was in no particular hurry to resume a work which reminded her so forcibly of Miss Bird at every touch of the brush on the canvas.

Hazel's character had been growing stronger. The effort she made daily to love her aunt and uncle, and carry out her mother's wishes concerning them, had gradually become less of an effort. In the outward exercise of love and kindliness, the reality had crept into her heart almost unknown to herself. It was as Miss Bird had said once to her, "Try to obey Christ's law of love, and the power will soon be given you to do it without any trouble or thought."

Miss Goodworthy wondered at her niece, and grew to lean upon her and respect her. She wondered at the girl's self-control, at her gentle, loving manner, at the views of the Christian faith and life generally which she held. The old lady was well aware that Hazel must have fought a great battle and come off, in part at least, conqueror, before she could live in The Priory as she was now living. It seemed wonderful that a young girl could be so sensible, and businesslike, so thoughtful about the comfort of others, and so unselfish.

But her niece's grave face at times made Miss Goodworthy most uncomfortable, and even unhappy. It was not natural that a girl of eighteen should laugh so seldom, and walk so slowly about the long corridors and wide rooms. Was it grief for Miss Bird's strange absence that had stolen the colour from the girl's cheeks and the merry light from her eyes? Not that her face wore a miserable, discontented expression, the old lady admitted, but it lacked something associated with happy youth.

Mr. Goodworthy tried to draw his niece into theological discussions as they walked together through the gardens and fields. If anyone had told him that he would ever condescend to talk in such a way to a young girl, and his sister Maria's daughter, he would have been indignant and given a contemptuous denial to such a possibility. But here was the fact that he did talk to his niece as if she was possessed of commonsense, as if she had been educated and had turned her education to good account.

He was dismayed to perceive that she had read books the names even of which he had never heard, and that she not only talked calmly and fearlessly to him, but with most perfect good humour, and an air of being rather amused sometimes at his dogmatism and high opinion of himself. He was not accustomed to such treatment. It obliged him against his will to control his temper occasionally, and admit that other people might have reason on their side, and all the world was not made up of hypocrites.

One morning he asked Hazel was it true that she had one verse out of the Bible framed on her mantelpiece which was the rule of her life.

"Yes," she answered. "You have read the verse in the Bible, of course, Uncle: 'By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another.'"

"But I really cannot understand how that can contain the whole sum of a Christian life. I am old-fashioned in my ideas of religion, I have no doubt. I still think the good old way of getting to Heaven by living a good life the best way. Yet I would like to hear how you explain that verse. I am an old man, and in my time old people used to be considered wiser than young ones. Such is not the case nowadays. Whether the change is for the worse is not for me to say, but I do believe experience and observation are great teachers, and great builders up of character. I am willing to learn, and I am all attention, Hazel."

Not in the least confused or irritated by her uncle's words and manner, Hazel replied simply, and in all seriousness. "There is nothing to explain. If you love your neighbours, you will not steal, tell lies, speak against them behind their backs, or injure them in any way directly or indirectly. You will try to be kind to them, and try to speak gently always. You will think of yourself, of your own comfort and pleasure last of all. You will in fact obey the ten commandments, not because you are afraid of the punishment disobedience brings, but because you love your neighbour, and will not therefore harm him. Of course the word neighbour means father, mother, sister, brother, friend, and mere acquaintance, and strangers."

Mr. Goodworthy looked uneasily at her earnest face, and then he said triumphantly, "Your religion is one of works, I perceive. That is where your favourite verse has landed you. Oh I thought something was wrong."

"Of works? How do you mean, Uncle? If you love Jesus as your Saviour, you will do as He tells you. He says distinctly that is the sign of your discipleship. He says distinctly. 'By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples!' If we haven't love one to another we are not His disciples. No two ways about that. What is the use of saying you love Christ? Of going to church regularly? Of giving money in charity? And for the furtherance of religion? What is the use if you make those in your own home uncomfortable, if you get angry, if you are unforgiving, if you are guilty of petty meannesses, and petty sins? No use at all. Such a one is not Christ's disciple, no matter what the world and the Church think of him; no matter what he thinks of himself. I read the other day that the places of worship of every denomination are growing emptier every year, that the Church gains no ground. No wonder when so many church members preach religion, and forget to practise it in private. Young Christians fall away when they are set such an example, and those who are not Christians laugh at what is called religion. I know," she added humbly, "that it is very, very difficult at times to obey Christ's commands. But we must try, try, and fight over and over again till we have conquered. Oh, it is very difficult to do right, and the temptation is very great to give up trying altogether."

She had apparently forgotten her uncle at the last and spoken her thoughts aloud regardless of hearers.

Miss Goodworthy had come into the room while Hazel was speaking. She now left it in tears, her brother gazing after her with a serious, troubled face.

"It seems to me, Hazel," he said angrily, as he turned to his niece who was about to follow Miss Goodworthy, "that all this tirade of yours is intended as a reproof to me for my action regarding your mother's marriage. Your father was a careless spendthrift, and poor Maria preferred him to a comfortable home, and her brother and sister. She had her reward. If she had been a consistent, right-minded Christian, she would have behaved very differently. But she never had much religion or sense."

The hot colour rose in Hazel's cheeks and her eyes flashed. "You have not much religion, I suppose you mean to say," she cried indignantly. "There never was a truer Christian in the world than my mother. She loved Jesus. She said Hid blood had washed her free from sin. I think she was too good to live on this wicked, cruel earth, so God took her. How dare you speak in such a way of her to me, her child! You never practise what you preach. She always did. You are dogmatic, and self-opinionated. You think no one has sense or religion but yourself. She was humble-minded and tender-hearted, a true follower of Jesus Christ. You don't understand what the word Christian means."

The girl hastily left the parlour, rushing off to her own room, heedless of Miss Goodworthy's faint sobs and feeble utterance of her name which she heard as she passed that lady's bedroom.

She remained in her room all the afternoon, refusing to go down to lunch, and refusing to answer Deborah's knocks at her door, and her anxious, affectionate questions.

When it was drawing near the dinner hour, she descended the stairs with slow step and a very pale face. Mr. Goodworthy and his sister were sitting in the breakfast parlour, the latter talking in feeble, entreating tones, and looking very ill. When Hazel entered the room there was a sudden silence. The girl went straight up to her uncle.

"Will you forgive me, Uncle, for having spoken to you in such a wrong way today? I am very sorry for it, and very much ashamed of myself. You may indeed tell me that I preach what I don't practise."

Very much taken by surprise, Mr. Goodworthy looked at her for a moment in silence, then he held out his hand to her. "I have nothing to forgive," he said frankly. "I should not have spoken to you in such terms of your mother. This act of yours shows on the contrary that you do try to practise what you preach. We will say no more about it."

His hearty tone and manner as well as his words astonished himself not a little when he thought over them afterwards, and they astonished Hazel, while they made her even more glad that she had conquered herself and apologised to him.

"Hazel," said Miss Goodworthy, "I want to say something to you. I must say it now. I called you this morning, but you never took any notice of me."

"I was too blinded and deafened by anger to see or hear anything, Aunt," replied Hazel, turning to the excited, trembling old lady. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Just this. I did influence Miss Bird to leave Ashwood for ever. I wanted you, and I was afraid you would never live here as long as you had her home to go to. I hated and feared her, and drove her out of the place. I didn't think I had succeeded in sending her away until I read that letter of hers to you. She told me she would not leave Ashwood, and her manner so terrified me that I fled from her house without getting her promise to go. But she did go, after all. I don't know where she is. Hazel! Hazel! Don't look like that. She may come back some day. Oh forgive me, child. I have been sorry ever since I did it. Say you forgive me, Hazel. Don't go away and leave me! I am not worthy to have such a niece, but do stay with me, or I shall die ... I shall die."

"Don't talk in that way, Aunt. I do forgive you, if I have anything to forgive."

The words seemed forced from the girl's lips, and when she had uttered them she quietly left the room.

When the dinner was ready, she returned and took her place at the table with nothing unusual in her face and manner.

During the progress of the meal she talked to Mr. and Miss Goodworthy about the garden, and the poor people in Ashwood, and about some money which her uncle had wished her to give away. Except that she was more attentive than ever to her aunt, there was nothing to indicate that she had fought two great moral battles that day and come off victor.

### Chapter 18

ONE bright morning some weeks afterwards, as Hazel came in from the garden, a large bunch of spring blossoms in her hand, Deborah met her with a whispered communication that a gentleman had called to see her, and was now sitting in the best parlour.

"He's a young gentleman, Miss Hazel, dear, and he was in such a hurry to see you that I was going to send one of the maids after you. The master is still out, and Miss Goodworthy hasn't left her room yet."

A bright colour suffused Hazel's pale face for an instant, and she threw her hat on the hall-table and went slowly into the parlour. Hubert Haldene was standing looking out of the window, as if watching for her. When she saw who it was, she uttered a glad little exclamation, and then suddenly remembering all that had befallen her since that last summer day they had spent together, she cried, "Oh, Hubert, why did you not come before now? I have wanted you so much."

Then she sank into a chair, and burst into a low bitter weeping.

Glad, and yet shocked at her reception of him, he took her into his arms and lovingly soothed and caressed her. "I would have come long ago," he said gently, "but my mother was dangerously ill for many months, so that I dare not leave her. I wrote several times to Miss Bird, and had my letters returned to me by the post office people. Then I wrote to you at Miss Bird's address, and those letters were also returned to me. I thought you must have left Ashwood with Miss Bird. That you were here in The Priory never entered my head. When I could leave my mother, I started for Ashwood at once. Mrs. Hewson told me that Miss Bird had left her home in a mysterious manner, and that you were living with your aunt and uncle in The Priory. I want to hear all about it. How is it that you and Miss Bird are separated? You cannot be very happy apart from each other. But first, let me tell you something I told to your adopted aunt last summer, and to my mother just before I left Torquay. Can't you guess what it is?"

Hazel made no reply, and a faint colour came into her cheeks.

"I said I was going to ask you some day to be my wife, for I loved you dearly. Now that day has come. What answer will you give me, Hazel? Will you be my wife? Do you think you care for me enough to marry me?"

After some hesitation, a low "Yes" answered him.

Hubert at last broke the long silence that followed on the utterance of that little "Yes."

"I suppose we must not hope to be left in uninterrupted possession of this room much longer. Speak to me, Hazel. I want to hear your voice once more. Tell me how it is that you are living here. You must have had some bad sickness in my absence, your face is so white, and you are so grave."

She then related to him all that had happened to her in his absence, faltering a little over her sentences at first, but by degrees forgetting everything else but the pain the parting from Miss Bird had caused her. She cast no blame whatever on her aunt and uncle, speaking of them in terms of affectionate regard, and assuring him that they were doing their best to make her happy and contented in The Priory.

Meanwhile Mr. Goodworthy had come home from the town, and hearing low voices in the best parlour had softly opened the door and looked in. What he saw there brought a dark flush of anger to his face.

"Who is Miss Hazel's visitor, Deborah?" he demanded of the old woman, whom he met in the hall as he was hurrying away to his sister's room.

"Dr. Haldene, sir," replied Deborah, with much secret gratification.

"Haldene? What Haldene?" he cried, staring at her as if he believed she was amusing herself at his expense.

"I'm sure I don't know, sir, unless he is a relation of Miss Maria's husband."

Mr. Goodworthy moved away with a deeper flush and deeper frown on his face. "Here's a nice state of affairs, Jane," he said wrathfully, as he entered the breakfast parlour where Miss Jane sat, as usual, in her armchair, a pile of pillows behind her, a footstool under her feet. "Did you know that Hazel had a lover?"

"Why, Joseph, what do you mean? Of course the child has no lover."

"She has, and she is sitting with him in the parlour now. There is no mistaking their attitude. How dare my servants admit such a person into the house? And his name is Haldene, too, a repetition of the old story. But Hazel shall marry no one with my consent, and certainly no one bearing the name of Haldene. I told you that your niece would not stay with you as soon as a man could flatter her enough to persuade her to marry him."

"You must be wrong, Joseph. No visitor was announced to me."

"Of course not. As long as you sit in your chair like a confirmed invalid the servants will do what they like. Go and see for yourself."

"I will go. But where is the use of being angry with our niece, if it is true that she has a lover? You know that we have no right to control her in any way, and she deserves every happiness and every blessing. I only wish I could bring Miss Bird back. Let your better nature triumph, Joseph. You do love and respect Hazel, and you are sorry we refused to be reconciled to poor Maria. If you could see our poor sister now, you would ask her forgiveness. I am sure I should. No, no, don't let us make this young life miserable."

Miss Jane went away to the best parlour before her brother could reply. She opened the door noisily, and entered the room slowly. Hubert rose to his feet and Hazel introduced him without any hesitation, the pink blush still in her cheeks.

"I did not know you had a visitor, my dear. Is Dr. Haldene any relation?"

"I am a connection of her father's," Hubert answered for her. He perceived that she had had enough agitation for one day.

"Did I hear Dr. Mason say that you were to be his successor here? I think----"

Here she stopped short, for Mr. Goodworthy had followed her and was now looking angrily at Hubert Haldene. "My brother, Dr. Haldene," introduced the rather dismayed old lady.

When the introduction was over, Hubert turned again to Miss Jane. "Yes, I hope to be Dr. Mason's successor if Hazel has no objection. A little while ago she promised to be my wife, so her wishes must first be consulted in the matter."

"Hazel is too young to think of marrying," said Mr. Goodworthy, coldly. "I had no idea that she had what is called a lover. We know nothing at all of you, Dr. Haldene. You had better arrange matters with Dr. Mason regardless of my niece's wishes."

A slow, confident smile curved Hubert's lips, which was very irritating to Mr. Goodworthy. "Last summer I obtained Miss Bird's consent to my marriage, if Hazel would give me a favourable reply, and Miss Bird knows all about me, and my prospects."

"Miss Bird has no power to consent to my niece's marriage. She is no relation of Hazel's. We are her natural guardians."

"You may be her natural guardians," replied Hubert politely, "but Miss Bird was her real one. After Mrs. Haldene's death, Hazel owed everything to Miss Bird. But do not let us have any unpleasantness about it. Hazel has consented to be my wife as soon as I can get a home ready for her. No angry altercation, no amount of argument will alter that fact. I would like to be on friendly terms with you and Miss Goodworthy," he went on in warmer tones. "Hazel has told me how kind you have been to her. She regards you with affection. Those whom she cares for, I must care for. It would make us both very happy if you and Miss Goodworthy would look upon me as your nephew, and allow me to earn your goodwill.''

"My sister and I are much obliged to you and Hazel for your kind intentions regarding us," answered Mr. Goodworthy stiffly. "As to the rest, we shall have to see."

### Chapter 19

(Last Chapter)

HUBERT HALDENE took up his abode in Ashwood, and superintended the building of an attractive little house near Miss Bird's empty home: a square stone house with gardens all round it, and a view of the long shining river from its front windows.

He went in and out of The Priory as if he was a welcome guest, and very soon Miss Goodworthy began to look for his coming with pleasure, and began to know his firm swift step on the gravel before the hall door. Mr. Goodworthy, too, acknowledged that the young doctor had "a head on his shoulders," and knew many things besides his profession.

The master of The Priory allowed Hazel to take rose trees and shrubs, and what plants she had a fancy for, out of the over-full Priory gardens for the new house, and he himself went and inspected the progress the workmen were making. But all the time he protested against Hazel's intended marriage, and would not speak on the subject at all.

Mrs. Haldene wrote Hazel many affectionate letters, and sent her many useful presents, and invited her to London, and promised to go to Ashwood for the wedding. The girl would have been very happy during those warm, beautiful summer months, but for the continued absence of Miss Bird. Indeed it seemed that the little spinster would never come back to Ashwood, that she would remain firm in her determination never to see Hazel again.

Her house was all in order waiting for her, but Hazel was beginning to lose hope. Every time she passed her old home her heart grew heavier and heavier, and it needed all Hubert's persuasions to make her smile, and forget for an hour or two this bitter, bitter pain.

"While I am happy, she is unhappy," Hazel girl would murmur when alone with Hubert. "Perhaps even she is dead, and I will never see her again in this world."

One evening as Hubert and she were returning from a garden party at the Rectory, some impulse moved Hazel to go into the little house to see if all was right in the parlour-shop. She thought she might have forgotten to fasten the front windows. Hubert lingered outside talking to some workman. When she opened the door she heard, or imagined she heard, a faint rustle. It was yet light, and Dr. Haldene was close at hand, so she went boldly in. What she saw in the shop brought the blood rushing to her face and a joyful cry to her lips. "Auntie! Oh Auntie, have you come back to me?"

There, in the centre of the room, stood Miss Bird, looking as if she had never left it, except that there were a few more wrinkles on her face now, and her pretty dress hung in rather loose folds about her.

"Oh forgive me for coming back, Hazel dear. I wanted one glimpse of your face, one glimpse of the old home before I left England for ever."

"You will not leave England," said Hazel, half laughing, half crying as she held the little figure in a close embrace. "You will never leave me again, you cruel, cruel auntie! How could you go off in that way? I was so miserable -- so miserable. I did not think you could have been so unkind to your child."

"But I did it for your good," answered Miss Bird wistfully. "I didn't want to leave you. I went away because of my promise to your mother, and because I thought you would be better at The Priory than with me. I was not happy without you."

"No, of course you were not happy. You were lonely without me, and I was ... I was ... oh, I couldn't tell you how I felt. Let us forget it. It was a mistake altogether. You must never leave me again. Hubert, come here and see who I have caught at last."

The young doctor quickly answered Hazel's summons, and when he saw Miss Bird he took her up in his arms as if she had been a child, and kissed her heartily.

"There," he said, setting her on her feet again, "I hope you think I am glad to see you, and I hope you are sorry for deserting my Hazel and making her so wretched. Why, not even the prospect of a speedy marriage with me could bring a smile to her lips latterly."

"Oh, Hubert!" remonstrated Hazel with a half-shy, blushing glance at him.

"It is true," the young man declared.

"Is Hazel going to marry you?" questioned Miss Bird eagerly.

"She has condescended to promise me as much. You know I asked your consent long ago."

"Oh I am so glad, so glad. What does Mr. Goodworthy say to that?"

"He says nothing," laughed Hubert, "but he knows all about it."

"Do you like your aunt and uncle now, dear child?"

"Oh yes, Auntie, very much indeed. They have been most kind to me. I love everybody now you have come back to me. Oh Auntie! Auntie!"

By and by Hubert proposed that they should all go to The Priory and have tea. "Your aunt will be growing uneasy about you, dear."

"I couldn't go to The Priory just yet," Miss Bird said, some apprehension in her voice. "Perhaps tomorrow or next day. Mr. and Miss Goodworthy don't care for me." She was thinking of Miss Goodworthy's one unexpected visit to her as she spoke. "If I could get back my servant Anne, I would settle down here in Ashwood again quite comfortably."

"Well, perhaps it would be better to postpone your visit to The Priory for a day or two," said Hazel. "I am sure you can get back Anne. She is at The Rectory, but Mrs. Hewson will give her up gladly to you. Hubert shall go there after he has left me at The Priory. I won't go away until you promise me something. Indeed, I won't let you out of my sight until you promise me this. You must never leave Ashwood on any pretext whatever, without letting me know all about it beforehand. No matter what idea you may take into your head, no matter who tries to influence or tempt you, you must never leave me again without telling me you are going to do so. Mustn't she give us that promise, Hubert?"

"Yes, indeed," answered the young man seriously. "You are necessary to our happiness, dear Miss Bird, and my Hazel owes everything to you and cannot get on without you. Do promise to make us both happy."

"I suppose I must promise," replied Miss Bird, with tears in her eyes. "It is so nice to be loved, and so nice to be necessary to those you love. I intended just to have a look at the old home, and a distant look at Hazel -- I didn't intend to let you see me, dear child -- and then, I was going to leave England for ever. I couldn't bear to be in the same country with you and not speak to you and have you near me. When I came here today I found the house all tidy and ready as if I was expected. The sight did me good somehow, and cheered me a little. I was just wondering how I should manage to get a glimpse of you, when you came in and found me."

"All is well now," cried Hubert heartily. 'Now then, Hazel, if you stay here with Auntie a little longer, I will go to The Rectory and bring Anne back with me. That will be better than taking you first to The Priory."

When he was gone, Hazel told Miss Bird all about her intended marriage, and all about the house Hubert was having built for her. The dear little lady rejoiced exceedingly on hearing of her girl's pleasure, and on discovering how truly happy she would be with the husband she had chosen.

When Anne came all tears and smiles to welcome back her mistress, Hazel went to The Priory with Hubert, joy and gladness once more reigning in her heart.

Mr. and Miss Goodworthy received the news of Miss Bird's return to Ashwood with mingled feelings of relief and regret. Miss Goodworthy was jealous of the little spinster's influence over Hazel, while still rather in dread of her because of her reputed "peculiarity." Mr. Goodworthy, though not actually in fear of her, considered her a strange person, and unsatisfactory to have any dealings with.

The next morning, when Miss Goodworthy saw the little figure by Hazel's side walking up the avenue to the house, she felt inclined to leave the parlour and hide herself in her own room, but Mr. Goodworthy said, "Nonsense, Jane, what harm can Miss Bird do you? I think we should receive her in a friendly way."

After that remark, Miss Jane felt she ought at least to greet Miss Bird.

The little spinster was quite surprised and taken aback at the reception she got at The Priory. After addressing a few polite and most courteous remarks to her, the master of the house seemed inclined to avoid speaking to her, but Miss Goodworthy bade her welcome, invited her to sit down beside her, poured all her trials and sufferings into her sympathising ear, and finally expressed a desire to see some of her painted plates.

"I don't know anything about painting, you know, Miss Bird, but I should like to see your plates and china. It would cheer me up, and prevent me from dwelling so much upon the shattered state of my nerves."

"To be sure it would," answered the delighted Miss Bird, quite won by that request to see her painted plates. "I have not yet found a subject for my great work, but perhaps it will come to me now that we are all cheerful and happy once more. I will send for all my things, and then you must come down to my house and see Arthur Haldene's paintings too -- your brother-in-law. He was a great painter. You and Mr. Goodworthy must see his pictures that will soon be hanging again in my best parlour."

"We will be most happy to see our brother-in-law's paintings," said Mr. Goodworthy, with studied politeness.

It was a great effort for him to speak thus, but he had been regarding the world generally with very different eyes for months past. Hazel's Bible verse was ever in his mind now, though he scarcely fully understood it yet.

Late in the summer there was a happy wedding in Ashwood. All the townsfolk, rich and poor, turned out to see "the marriage of Miss Maria's daughter." Of course the ceremony was performed by Mr. Hewson.

"He married my mother, and he shall marry me," said Hazel, decidedly, when Mrs. Haldene wished a bishop, a relative, to officiate on the occasion. Hazel naturally had her way, her mother-in-law elect having such an affection for the girl that she could deny her nothing.

The Priory opened its doors and received many guests from London and elsewhere, Mrs. Haldene being amongst the number. Mr. Goodworthy was quite surprised to perceive what a host of friends his new nephew had. Miss Bird was also a guest at The Priory for the last three days before the wedding. Hazel made such a point of it, that the little lady, although rather nervous at associating with so many strangers, could not refuse.

Deborah was in high delight. All the fuss and excitement were exactly what she liked. She and her mistress had many consultations together. There were so many things to see after, and "that dear Hazel could not be expected to attend to any household affair at such a time."

"The old house is alive once more, Miss Jane," said the old domestic, gladly.

"Yes, Deborah, and please God, it will never be dead again," replied Miss Goodworthy, reverently.

Mr. Goodworthy made a most perfect host: all the guests were loud in his praises. He seemed to have only one object during those last few days before the wedding, and that was the comfort and pleasure of the visitors. To be sure he had dissertations now and then on religious subjects with some of them, and he laid down the law to them all occasionally; but there was nothing offensive or sarcastic in his manner now. Of course the nature of the man was not altogether altered in so short a time, but a cure was gradually being worked, a cure that sometimes amazed even Hazel herself.

Miss Goodworthy's nervousness was slowly disappearing in the new, genial atmosphere. She was quite able to take her place as hostess. She and Miss Bird had become fast friends. The latter's dress, and peculiar paintings, and odd remarks, and fondness for old china, now and then astonished and puzzled the precise old lady; and Miss Goodworthy's sombre attire, and rather sober views of life provoked Miss Bird's indignation, and did not at all accord with her love of bright colours, and her love of cheerfulness; but such dissimilarities of disposition in no wise interfered with the friendship of the two ladies.

When the wedding ceremony was over, and Hazel and her husband passed out into the sunshine surrounded by bridesmaids and friends, the first object the young wife's eyes rested on was a sculptured monument in white marble, standing out distinctly from the less pretentious tombstones on either side of the church. On the monument was the inscription:

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

ARTHUR AND MARIA HALDENE

THIS MEMORIAL IS ERECTED

BY THEIR BROTHER AND SISTER,

JOSEPH AND JANE GOODWORTHY

Hubert saw it also, and he glanced uneasily at his wife. To be reminded so forcibly of the absence of her father and mother on such a day could not be altogether a happy thing.

As if reading his thoughts, Hazel raised her eyes to his for an instant, and murmured softly, "It does not grieve me to see that monument: rather, it rejoices me. It is uncle's way of telling everyone that he has become reconciled to father and mother. He would not understand that there was anything incongruous in his act. No doubt he had it placed there, that I might see it when I did. It was not there yesterday.

While Hazel and Hubert were away in France, and Switzerland, and Italy on their honeymoon, Mr. Goodworthy energetically superintended the finishing of Haldene House, as the new home was usually called. Miss Bird, who knew exactly what Hazel's and Hubert's wishes and tastes were, looked after the furnishing of the rooms, and sent numerous letters containing patterns and descriptions of the furniture to the young husband and wife.

The little lady was delighted with her task. She hung Arthur Haldene's pictures on the walls of Hazel's bedroom, and she placed occasional pieces of rare old china in the parlours and dining room, and in the best bedrooms, but she did not crowd the rooms with plates, and jugs, and bowls, as her own were crowded; and the curtains, and carpets, and coverings of the chairs had all been submitted for approval before they were finally selected.

Mr. Goodworthy and his sister oversaw making the gardens lovely with flowers and shrubs, and Miss Jane took particular delight in seeing after the kitchen and fruit gardens. Many of the Ashwood folk brought offerings for the "home of Miss Maria's child," and all determined to give the young doctor and his wife a hearty welcome home.

It was late in the autumn when the travellers reached Ashwood, and they received a right hearty welcome from relatives and townsfolk alike. When tea was over, and Hazel was sitting quietly with her husband, Miss Bird, and her aunt and uncle, she talked happily about the various sights she beheld on her travels.

"I had so longed to see the old towns of France and Italy," she said to Miss Bird. "I liked them better than Paris or Berlin, or the other big cities. When we were in London, one evening, walking along Regent Street, a poor old woman asked Hubert for a penny to buy some bread. She had not broken her fast for two days, she said. It is nothing unusual to see poverty and misery in the London streets, but the woman's voice sounded familiar to me, and I looked at her more closely. She was Mrs. Hill. You remember, her Auntie?"

"Indeed, I do," answered Miss Bird indignantly. "A wicked, dishonest creature who robbed your mother and nearly killed you with ill-treatment."

"Well she had not prospered evidently," went on Hazel gently. "She had become so poor that she had taken to drinking to drown her wretchedness, she told me. I brought her to Hubert's mother, and she has had her placed in some home where she will be well looked after. I did not know she was so old. She seemed about eighty years of age, and so poor, and dirty and miserable. She did not remember me, of course, but Hubert told her who I was. When I looked at her, all anger against her was gone out of my heart. I was only sorry for her wretchedness. I could not bear to see such misery. London is so large, it is hopeless to do much there. With aunt and uncle at The Priory, and you, Auntie, in your house, and Hubert and me here, we can surely help the needs of the Ashwood people. I would like to think that no one living in or near the place was poverty-stricken or miserable."

Hazel Haldene's desire concerning Ashwood was accomplished as completely as such a desire could be accomplished in this world, and she agreed with Hubert and Miss Bird in thinking that there was no home in all England as happy or as beautiful as her own.

THE END

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## Christian Non-fiction

Four short books of help in the Christian life:

_So, What Is a Christian?_ An introduction to a personal faith. Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-2-7, eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-2-6

_Starting Out_ \-- help for new Christians of all ages. Paperback ISBN 978-1-4839-622-0-7, eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-0-2

_Help!_ \-- Explores some problems we can encounter with our faith. Paperback ISBN 978-0-9927642-2-7, eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-1-9

_Running Through the Bible_ _\--_ a simple understanding of what's in the Bible _\--_ Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-6-5, eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-3-3

### Be Still

Bible Words of Peace and Comfort

There may come a time in our lives when we want to concentrate on God's many promises of peace and comfort. The Bible readings in this book are for people who need to know what it means to be held securely in the Lord's loving arms.

Rather than selecting single verses here and there, each reading in this book is a run of several verses. This gives a much better picture of the whole passage in which a favourite verse may be found.

As well as being for personal use, these readings are intended for sharing with anyone in special need, to help them draw comfort from the reading and prayer for that date. Bible reading and prayer are the two most important ways of getting to know and trust Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour.

The reference to the verses for the day are given, for you to look up and read in your preferred Bible translation.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-4-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9932760-7-1

116 pages 5x7.8 inches

A Previously Unpublished Book

### The Simplicity of the Incarnation

J Stafford Wright

Foreword by J I Packer

_"I believe in ... Jesus Christ ... born of the Virgin Mary."_ A beautiful stained glass image, or a medical reality? This is the choice facing Christians today. Can we truly believe that two thousand years ago a young woman, a virgin named Mary, gave birth to the Son of God? The answer is simple: we can.

The author says, _"In these days many Christians want some sensible assurance that their faith makes sense, and in this book I want to show that it does."_

In this uplifting book from a previously unpublished and recently discovered manuscript, J Stafford Wright investigates the reality of the incarnation, looks at the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, and helps the reader understand more of the Trinity and the certainty of eternal life in heaven.

This book was written shortly before the author's death in 1985. _The Simplicity of the Incarnation_ is published for the first time, unedited, from his final draft.

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-5-7

Paperback ISBN: 9-780-9525-9563-2

160 pages 5.25 x 8 inches

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Bible People Real People

An Unforgettable A-Z of Who is Who in the Bible

In a fascinating look at real people, J Stafford Wright shows his love and scholarly knowledge of the Bible as he brings the characters from its pages to life in a memorable way.

Read this book through from A to Z, like any other title

Dip in and discover who was who in personal Bible study

Check the names when preparing a talk or sermon

The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly – no one is spared. This is a book for everyone who wants to get to grips with the reality that is in the pages of the Bible, the Word of God.

With the names arranged in alphabetical order, the Old and New Testament characters are clearly identified so that the reader is able to explore either the Old or New Testament people on the first reading, and the other Testament on the second.

Those wanting to become more familiar with the Bible will find this is a great introduction to the people inhabiting the best selling book in the world, and those who can quote chapter and verse will find everyone suddenly becomes much more real – because these people are real. This is a book to keep handy and refer to frequently while reading the Bible.

"For students of my generation the name Stafford Wright was associated with the spiritual giants of his generation. Scholarship and integrity were the hallmarks of his biblical teaching. He taught us the faith and inspired our discipleship of Christ. To God be the Glory." The Rt. Rev. James Jones, Bishop of Liverpool

_This is a lively, well-informed study of some great Bible characters._ Professor Gordon Wenham MA PhD. Tutor in Old Testament at Trinity College Bristol and Emeritus Professor of Old Testament at the University of Gloucestershire.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-7-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-5-6

314 pages 6x9 inches

Note: This book is not available in all eBook formats

Christians and the Supernatural

J Stafford Wright

There is an increasing interest and fascination in the paranormal today. To counteract this, it is important for Christians to have a good understanding of how God sometimes acts in mysterious ways, and be able to recognize how he can use our untapped gifts and abilities in his service. We also need to understand how the enemy can tempt us to misuse these gifts and abilities, just as Jesus was tempted in the wilderness.

In this single volume of his two previously published books on the occult and the supernatural ( _Understanding the Supernatural_ and _Our Mysterious God_ ) J Stafford Wright examines some of the mysterious events we find in the Bible and in our own lives. Far from dismissing the recorded biblical miracles as folk tales, he is convinced that they happened in the way described, and explains why we can accept them as credible.

The writer says: _When God the Holy Spirit dwells within the human spirit, he uses the mental and physical abilities which make up a total human being . . . The whole purpose of this book is to show that the Bible does make sense_.

And this warning: _The Bible, claiming to speak as the revelation of God, and knowing man's weakness for substitute religious experiences, bans those avenues into the occult that at the very least are blind alleys that obscure the way to God, and at worst are roads to destruction._

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-4-0

Paperback ISBN 13: 9-780-9525-9564-9

222 pages 5.25 x 8 inches

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Howell Harris

### His Own Story

Foreword by J. Stafford Wright

Howell Harris was brought up to regard the Nonconformists as "a perverted and dangerously erroneous set of people." Hardly a promising start for a man who was to play a major role in the Welsh Revival. Yet in these extracts from his writings and diaries we can read the thoughts of Howell Harris before, during and after his own conversion.

We can see God breaking through the barriers separating "church and chapel", and discover Christians of different denominations preparing the country for revival. Wesley, Whitefield, Harris. These great 18th century preachers worked both independently and together to preach the Living Gospel. This book is a vivid first-hand account of the joys, hardships and struggles of one of these men -- Howell Harris (1714-1773).

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-9-5

From the Streets of London

to the Streets of Gold

The Life Story of

Brother Clifford Edwards

A True Story of Love

by

Brother Clifford Edwards

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

A printed copy is available directly from Brother Clifford -- thejesusbus@hotmail.co.uk

This is the personal story of Clifford Edwards, affectionately known as Brother Clifford by his many friends. Going from fame to poverty, he was sleeping on the streets of London with the homeless for twenty years, until Jesus rescued him and gave him an amazing mission in life. Brother Clifford tells his true story here in the third person, giving the glory to Jesus.

### Seven Steps to

### Walking in Victory

Lin Wills

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-3-5

Also available as a booklet

www.lenandlin.com

How is your Christian life going? Finding it hard and not sure why? Wherever you might be, _Seven Steps to Walking in Victory_ is a very short book to help you see where you are in the Christian life, and help you keep on the right path to the victory that comes through walking closely with Jesus -- _to live the Christian life you always wanted to live!_

### Seven Keys to

### Unlock Your Calling

Lin Wills

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-2-3

Also available as a booklet

www.lenandlin.com

God has a special plan for each and every one of us -- that includes YOU! He has given all of us unique gifts. Not sure what that might mean for you? _Seven Keys to Unlock Your Calling_ is a very short book that will help you discover how to explore those gifts and encourage you to go deeper into all that God has for you.

English Hexapla

The Gospel of John

(Paperback only)

Published to coincide with the 400th anniversary of the Authorized King James Version of the Bible, this book contains the full text of Bagster's assembled work for the Gospel of John. On each page in parallel columns are the words of the six most important translations of the New Testament into English, made between 1380 and 1611. Below the English is the original Greek text after Scholz.

To enhance the reading experience, there is an introduction telling how we got our English Bibles, with significant pages from early Bibles shown at the end of the book.

Here is an opportunity to read English that once split the Church by giving ordinary people the power to discover God's word for themselves. Now you can step back in time and discover those words and spellings for yourself, as they first appeared hundreds of years ago.

Wyclif 1380, Tyndale 1534, Cranmer 1539, Geneva 1557,

Douay Rheims 1582, Authorized (KJV) 1611.

English Hexapla -- The Gospel of John

Published by White Tree Publishing

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-1-8

Size 7.5 x 9.7 inches paperback

Not available as an eBook

### Roddy Goes to Church

Church Life and Church People

Derek Osborne

**No, not a children's book!** An affectionate, optimistic look at church life involving, as it happens, Roddy and his friends who live in a small town. Problems and opportunities related to change and outreach are not, of course, unique to their church!

Maybe you know Miss Prickly-Cat who pointedly sits in the same pew occupied by generations of her forebears, and perhaps know many of the characters in this look at church life today. A wordy Archdeacon comes on the scene, and Roddy is taken aback by the events following his first visit to church. Roddy's best friend Bushy-Beard says wise things, and he hears an enlightened Bishop . . .

Bishop David Pytches writes: _A unique spoof on church life. Will you recognise yourself and your church here? ... Derek Osborne's mind here is insightful, his characters graphic and typical and the style acutely comical, but there is a serious message in his madness. Buy this, read it and enjoy!_

David Pytches, Chorleywood

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-0-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-09927642-0-3

46 pages 5.5 x 8.5 inches paperback UK £3.95

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Heaven Our Home

William Branks

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

"I go to prepare a place for you." This well-known promise from Jesus must cause us to think about the reality of heaven. Heaven is to be our home for ever. Where is heaven? What is it like? Will I recognize people there? All who are Christians must surely want to hear about the place where they are to spend eternity. In this abridged edition of William Branks classic work of 1861, we discover what the Bible has to say about heaven. There may be a few surprises, and there are certainly some challenges as we explore a subject on which there seems to be little teaching and awareness today.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

### I See Men as Trees, Walking

Roger and Janet Niblett

Roger and Janet Niblett were just an ordinary English couple, but then they met the Lord and their lives were totally transformed. Like the Bethlehem shepherds of old, they had a compulsion to share the same good news that Jesus Christ had come into the world to save sinners. Empowered by the Holy Spirit they proclaimed the gospel in the market place, streets, prisons, hospitals and churches with a vibrancy that only comes from being in direct touch with the Almighty and being readily available to serve Him as a channel of His grace and love. God was with them and blessed their ministry abundantly. Praise God! (Pastor Mervyn Douglas, Clevedon Family Church)

The story of Roger Niblett is an inspiration to all who serve the Lord. He was a prolific street evangelist, whose impact on the gospel scene was a wonder to behold. It was my privilege to witness his conversion, when he went forward to receive Christ at the Elim Church, Keynsham. The preacher was fiery Scottish evangelist Rev'd Alex Tee. It was not long before Roger too caught that same soul winner's fire which propelled him far and wide, winning multitudes for Christ. Together with his wife Janet, they proceeded to "Tell the World of Jesus". (Des Morton, Founder Minister of Keynsham Elim Church)

I know of no couple who have been more committed to sharing their faith from the earliest days of their journey with the Lord Jesus Christ. Along the way, at home and abroad, and with a tender heart for the marginalised, Rog and Jan have introduced multitudes to the Saviour and have inspired successive generations of believers to do the same. It was our joy and privilege to have them as part of the family at Trinity where Janet continues to serve in worship and witness. Loved by young and old alike, they will always have a special place in our hearts. (Andy Paget, Trinity Tabernacle, Bristol. Vice President, International Gospel Outreach)

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-1-0

Also available as a paperback

(published by Gozo Publishing Bristol)

paperback ISBN: 978-1508674979

### Leaves from

### My Notebook

New Abridged Edition

William Haslam

(1818-1905)

You may have heard of the clergyman who was converted while preaching his own sermon! Well, this is man -- William Haslam. It happened in Cornwall one Sunday in 1851. He later wrote his autobiography in two books: _From Death into Life_ and _Yet not I_. Here, in _Leaves from my NoteBook_ , William Haslam writes about events and people not present in his autobiography. They make fascinating and challenging reading as we watch him sharing his faith one to one or in small groups, with dramatic results. Haslam was a man who mixed easily with titled gentry and the poorest of the poor, bringing the message of salvation in a way that people were ready to accept. This book has been lightly edited and abridged to make reading easier today by using modern punctuation and avoiding over-long sentences. William Haslam's amazing message is unchanged.

Original book first published 1889

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-2-7

Blunt's Scriptural Coincidences

Gospels and Acts

J. J. Blunt

New Edition

This book will confirm (or restore) your faith in the Gospel records. Clearly the Gospels were not invented. There is too much unintentional agreement between them for this to be so. Undesigned coincidences are where writers tell the same account, but from a different viewpoint. Without conspiring together to get their accounts in agreement, they include unexpected (and often unnoticed) details that corroborate their records. Not only are these unexpected coincidences found within the Gospels, but sometimes a historical writer unknowingly and unintentionally confirms the Bible record.

Within these pages you will see just how accurate were the memories of the Gospel writers -- even of the smallest details which on casual reading can seem of little importance, yet clearly point to eyewitness accounts. J.J. Blunt spent many years investigating these coincidences. And here they are, as found in the four Gospels and Acts.

First published in instalments between 1833 and 1847

The edition used here published in 1876

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-5-8

### Fullness of Power

### in Christian Life and Service

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

R. A. Torrey

Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

This is a White Tree Publishing _Home and Group Questions for Today_ Edition. At the end of each chapter are questions for use either in your personal study, or for sharing in a church or home group. Why? Because: "From many earnest hearts there is rising a cry for more power: more power in our personal conflict with the world, the flesh, and the devil; more power in our work for others. The Bible makes the way to obtain this longed-for power very plain. There is no presumption in undertaking to tell _how to obtain Fullness of Power in Christian life and service_ ; for the Bible itself tells, and the Bible was intended to be understood. R. A. Torrey (1856-1928) was an American evangelist, pastor, educator, and writer whose name is attached to several organisations, and whose work is still well known today.

"The Bible statement of the way is not mystical or mysterious. It is very plain and straightforward. If we will only make personal trial of _The Power of the Word of God_ ; _The Power of the Blood of Christ_ ; _The Power of the Holy Spirit_ ; _The Power of Prayer_ ; _The Power of a Surrendered Life_ ; we will then know _the Fullness of Power in Christian life and service._ We will try to make this plain in the following chapters. There are many who do not even know that there is a life of abiding rest, joy, satisfaction, and power; and many others who, while they think there must be something beyond the life they know, are in ignorance as to how to obtain it. This book is also written to help them." ( _Torrey's Introduction._ )

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-8-9

Ebenezer and Ninety-Eight Friends

Musings on Life, Scripture

and the Hymns

by

Marty Magee

Samuel, Mephibosheth, and a woman on death row -- people telling of our Savior's love. A chicken, a dinosaur, and a tarantula -- just a few props to show how we can serve God and our neighbors. Peanut butter, pinto beans and grandmother's chow-chow -- merely tools to help share the Bread of Life. These are just a few of the characters in Ebenezer and Ninety-Eight Friends.

It is Marty's desire to bring the hymns out of their sometimes formal, Sunday best stuffy setting and into our Monday through Friday lives. At the same time, she presents a light object lesson and appropriate Scripture passage. This is done with the format of a devotion book, yet it has a light tone and style. From Ebenezer to Willie, Marty's characters can scarcely be contained within the pages of this whimsical yet insightful volume.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-1-1

Also in paperback

from Rickety Bridge Publishing

ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

ALSO BY MARTY MAGEE

### Twenty-five Days Around the Manger

# A Light Family Advent Devotional

Marty Magee

Will a purple bedroom help Marty's misgivings about Christmas?

As a kid, Martha Evans didn't like Christmas. Sixty years later, she still gets a little uneasy when this holiday on steroids rolls around. But she knows, when all the tinsel is pulled away, Whose Day it is. Now Marty Magee, she is blessed with five grandchildren who help her not take herself too seriously.

Do you know the angel named Herald? Will young Marty survive the embarrassment of her Charley Brown Christmas tree? And by the way, where's the line to see Jesus?

Twenty-Five Days Around the Manger goes from Marty's mother as a little girl awaiting her brother's arrival, to O Holy Night when our souls finally were able to feel their full worth.

This and much more. Join Marty around the manger this Advent season.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Also in full colour paperback

from Rickety Bridge Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-4923248-0-5

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

The Gospels and Acts

In Simple Paraphrase

with Helpful Explanations

together with

Running Through the Bible

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing presents a paraphrase in today's English of passages from the four Gospels -- Matthew, Mark, Luke and John -- relating Jesus' birth, life, death and resurrection in one continuous narrative with helpful explanations, plus a paraphrase of events from the book of Acts. Also in this book is a brief summary of the Epistles and Revelation. For readers unfamiliar with the New Testament, this book makes a valuable introduction, and it will surely help those familiar with the New Testament to gain some extra knowledge and understanding as they read it. Please note that this is _not_ a translation of the Bible. It is a careful and sensitive _paraphrase_ of parts of the New Testament, and is not intended to be quoted as Scripture. Part 2 is a short introduction to the whole Bible -- _Running Through the Bible_ \-- which is available from White Tree Publishing as a separate eBook and paperback.

**Translators and others involved in foreign mission work, please note:** If you believe that this copyright book, or part of this book, would be useful if translated into another language, please contact White Tree Publishing (wtpbristol@gmail.com). Permission will be free, and assistance in formatting and publishing your new translation as an eBook and/or a paperback may be available, also without charge.

_Superb! I have never read anything like it. It is colloquially worded in a succinct, clear style with a brilliant (and very helpful) running commentary interspersed. I have found it a compelling read -- and indeed spiritually engaging and moving._ Canon Derek Osborne, Norfolk, England.

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-9-6

### Faith that Prevails

The Early Pentecostal Movement

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

Smith Wigglesworth

Study Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

This is a White Tree Publishing Home and Group Questions for Today Edition. At the end of each of the seven chapters are questions by Chuck Antone, Jr. for use either in your personal study, or for sharing in a church or home group. Why? Because _Smith Wigglesworth, often referred to as the Apostle of Faith, putting the emphasis on the work of the Holy Spirit, writes, "_ God is making people hungry and thirsty after His best. And everywhere He is filling the hungry and giving them that which the disciples received at the very beginning. Are you hungry? If you are, God promises that you shall be filled."

_Smith Wigglesworth was one of the pioneers of the early Pentecostal revival. Born in 1859 he gave himself to Jesus at the age of eight and immediately led his mother to the Lord._ His ministry took him to Europe, the US, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, the Pacific Islands, India and what was then Ceylon. _Smith Wigglesworth's faith was unquestioning._

_In this book, he says, "_ There is nothing impossible with God. All the impossibility is with us, when we measure God by the limitations of our unbelief."

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-4-1

### The Authority and

###  Interpretation

### of the Bible

J Stafford Wright

When we start to think about God, we soon come to a point where we say, "I can discover nothing more about God by myself. I must see whether He has revealed anything about Himself, about His character, and about the way to find Him and to please Him." From the beginning, the Christian church has believed that certain writings were the Word of God in a unique sense. Before the New Testament was compiled, Christians accepted the Old Testament as their sacred Book. Here they were following the example of Christ Himself. During His ministry Jesus Christ made great use of the Old Testament, and after His resurrection He spent some time in teaching His disciples that every section of the Old Testament had teachings in it concerning Himself. Any discussion of the inspiration of the Bible gives place sooner or later to a discussion of its interpretation. To say that the Bible is true, or infallible, is not sufficient: for it is one thing to have an infallible Book, and quite another to use it. J Stafford Wright was a greatly respected evangelical theologian and author, and former Principal of Tyndale Hall Theological College, Bristol.

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-9-6

### Psalms,

### A Guide Psalm By Psalm

J Stafford Wright

The Bible Psalms. Do you see them as a source of comfort? A help in daily living? A challenge? Or perhaps something to study in depth? _Psalms, a Guide Psalm by Psalm_ will meet all these requirements, and more. It is an individual study guide that can be used for daily reading in conjunction with your own Bible. It is also a resource for group study, with brief questions for study and discussion. And it's a Bible commentary, dealing with the text of each Psalm section by section.

eBook only

eBook ISBN **978-0-9957594-2-8**

### The Christian's Secret

### of a Happy Life

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

Christian _and_ happy? Do these two words fit comfortably together? Is our Christian life a burden or a pleasure? Is our quiet time with the Lord a duty or a delight? _The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life_ was first written by Hannah Whitall Smith as monthly instalments for an American magazine. Hannah was brought up as a Quaker, and became the feisty wife of a preacher. By the time she wrote _The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life_ she had already lost three children. Her life was not easy, with her husband being involved in a sexual scandal and eventually losing his faith. So, Christian _and_ happy? An alternative title for this book could have been _The Christian's Secret of a Trusting Life._

How often, Hannah asks, do we bring our burdens to the Lord, as He told us to, only to take them home with us again? There are some wonderful and challenging chapters in this book, which Hannah revised throughout her life, as she came to see that the truth is in the Bible, not in our feelings. Fact, faith and feelings come in that order. As Hannah points out several times, feelings come last. The teaching in this book is firmly Scripture based, as Hannah insists that there is more to the Christian life than simply passing through the gate of salvation. There is a journey ahead for us, where every step we take should be consecrated to bring us closer and closer to God, day by day, and year by year.

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-6-6

### Every-Day Religion

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

How are we to live out our Christian lives every day? This book isn't about everyday (ordinary) religion, but about a _living faith_ that changes our lives day by day. Hannah Whitall Smith had to live her life based on her trust in Scripture and the promises of God. In 1875, after the loss of three children, and her husband suffering a mental breakdown after being accused of infidelity, she was able to write _The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life_ , in which she showed that it is possible to find peace with the Lord, no matter what life throws at us, through trusting in His promises.

In 1894, after the death of yet another child, with her three surviving children professing atheism, and her husband losing his faith, Hannah's trust in the Lord Jesus is still so strong that she is able to write in her introduction to her Scripture-based _Every-Day Religion_ , that the purpose of the book is, "To bring out, as far as possible, the common-sense teaching of the Bible in regard to every-day religion. ... How to have inward peace in the midst of outward turmoil."

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-0-9

### Haslam's Journey

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

Previously published 2005 by Highland Books

If you only intend to read just one Christian book, this should be the one! You may have heard of the clergyman who was converted while preaching his own sermon. Well, William Haslam is that man. It happened in Cornwall one Sunday in 1851, and revival immediately broke out. Later, another of William Haslam's "famous" sermons will cause a mass walkout of assembled clergy in St Paul's Cathedral! Once he starts to preach the Gospel with zeal, you can rejoice over powerful conversions in nearly every chapter.

Haslam's Journey consists of selected passages from William Haslam's two autobiographies: From _Death_ Into Life (published 1880, his Cornish ministry) and Yet Not I (published 1882, set mostly in Bath, Norfolk and London), abridged and lightly modernised. Just under half of the originals is included. With copious notes and appendices by Chris Wright, editor of _Haslam's Leaves_ also from White Tree Publishing. William Haslam writes with humour and great insight.

_William Haslam writes about his early life:_ "I did not see then, as I have since, that turning over a new leaf to cover the past is not by any means the same thing as turning back the old leaves and getting them washed in the blood of the Lamb. I thought my acceptance with God depended upon my works. This made me very diligent in prayer, fasting and alms deeds. I often sat and dreamed about the works of mercy and devotion I would do."

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-8-5

### My Life and Work

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

Rodney "Gipsy" Smith was born in a gipsy tent in Epping Forest, England. He was the son of gipsies, Cornelius Smith and his wife Mary. Growing up, he had to help support the family by making and selling items like clothes pegs around the area. He only had a few weeks at school one winter, and was unable to read or write. One day his father Cornelius came home to say that he had been converted, and was now a Christian. Cornelius helped bring his son to the Lord, and from that moment, Rodney wanted to share the way of salvation with others.

Now followed a difficult time, because he knew that in order to preach to others, he had to be able to read the Bible, both for himself and aloud to others. He writes, "I began to practise preaching. One Sunday I entered a turnip field and preached most eloquently to the turnips. I had a very large and most attentive congregation. Not one of them made an attempt to move away." When he started preaching to people, and came across a long word in the Bible he was unable to read, he says he stopped at the long word and spoke on what had gone before, and started reading again at the word after the long one!

Gipsy Smith quickly learnt to read fluently and was soon into fulltime evangelism, where he soon became known as Gipsy Smith, a name he accepted gladly. He joined the Salvation Army for a time, until being told to resign. Instead of this being a setback, he now took up a much wider sphere of work in England, before travelling to America and Australia where he became a much-loved preacher. In spite of meeting two American presidents at the White House, and other important figures in society, Gipsy Smith never forgot his roots. He never pretended to be anything other than a Gipsy boy, and was always pleased to come across other Gipsy families in his travels. Like Billy Bray and others uneducated writers, Gipsy Smith tells the story of his life in a simple and compelling way. This is the account written by a man who gave himself fully to the Lord, and was used to help lead thousands to Jesus Christ as their Saviour.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-4-7

### Evangelistic Talks

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

This book is a selection of 19 talks given by Gipsy Smith which will provide inspirational reading, and also be a source of help for those who speak. There are also 20 "two-minute sermonnettes" as the last chapter! Rodney "Gipsy" Smith was born in a gipsy tent in Epping Forest, England. He was the son of gipsies, Cornelius Smith and his wife Mary. Growing up, he had to help support the family by making and selling items like clothes pegs around the area. He only had a few weeks at school one winter, and was unable to read or write. One day his father Cornelius came home to say that he had been converted, and was now a Christian. Cornelius helped bring his son to the Lord, and from that moment, Rodney wanted to share the way of salvation with others.

He quickly learnt to read fluently and was soon into fulltime evangelism, where he became known as Gipsy Smith, a name he accepted gladly. He preached throughout England, before travelling to America and Australia. Wherever he went he was a much-loved and powerful preacher, bringing thousands to the Lord.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-7-8

### Living in the Sunshine:

The God of All Comfort

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

Hannah Smith, who suffered so much in her personal life, has an amazing Bible-based grasp of God's love for each of us. She writes in this book: "Why, I ask myself, should the children of God lead such utterly uncomfortable Christian lives when He has led us to believe that His yoke would be easy and His burden light? Why are we tormented with so many spiritual doubts, and such heavy spiritual anxieties? Why do we find it so hard to be sure that God really loves us?

"But here, perhaps, you will meet me with the words, 'Oh, no, I do not blame the Lord, but I am so weak and so foolish, and so ignorant that I am not worthy of His care.' But do you not know that sheep are always weak, and helpless, and silly; and that the very reason they are compelled to have a shepherd to care for them is just because they are so unable to take care of themselves? Their welfare and their safety, therefore, do not in the least depend upon their own strength, nor upon their own wisdom, nor upon anything in themselves, but wholly and entirely upon the care of their shepherd. And if you are a sheep, your welfare also must depend altogether upon your Shepherd, and not at all upon yourself!"

Note: This is Hannah Smith's final book. It was first published as _Living in the Sunshine_ , and later republished as _The God of All Comfort_ , the title of the third chapter. The edition used here is the British edition of _Living in the Sunshine_ , dated 1906.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-3-0

### I Can't Help Praising the Lord

The Life of Billy Bray

FW Bourne and

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

This challenging and often amusing book on the life of Billy Bray (1794-1868) has a very strong message for Christians today. Billy, a Cornish tin miner, believed and accepted the promises in the Bible, and lived a life that was Spirit filled.

FW Bourne, the writer of the original book, The King's Son, knew Billy Bray as a friend. In it he has used Billy's own writing, the accounts of others who had met Billy, and his own memories.

Chris Wright has revised and edited FW Bourne's book to produce this new edition, adding sections directly from Billy Bray's own Journal, keeping Billy's rough and ready grammar and wording, which surely helps us picture the man.

eBook

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-4-7

Paperback ISBN: 9785-203447-7-5

5x8 inches 80 pages

Available from major internet stores

Also on sale in Billy Bray's Chapel

Kerley Downs, Cornwall

## Christian Fiction

### The Lost Clue

Mrs. O. F. Walton

Abridged Edition

A Romantic Mystery

With modern line drawings

Living the life of a wealthy man, Kenneth Fortescue receives devastating news from his father. But he is only able to learn incomplete facts about his past, because a name has been obliterated from a very important letter. Two women are vying for Kenneth's attention -- Lady Violet, the young daughter of Lady Earlswood, and Marjorie Douglas, the daughter of a widowed parson's wife.

Written in 1905 by the much-loved author Mrs. O. F. Walton, this edition has been lightly abridged and edited to make it easier to read and understand today. This romantic mystery story gives an intriguing glimpse into the class extremes that existed in Edwardian England, with wealthy titled families on one side, and some families living in terrible poverty on the other.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-2-6

### Doctor Forester

Mrs. O. F. Walton

Abridged Edition

A Romantic Mystery

with modern line drawings

Doctor Forester, a medical man only twenty-five years old, has come to a lonely part of Wales to escape from an event in his recent past that has caused him much hurt. So he has more on his mind than worrying about strange noises behind his bedroom wall in the old castle where he is staying.

A young woman who shares part of the journey with him is staying in the same village. He is deeply attracted to her, and believes that she is equally attracted to him. But he soon has every reason to think that his old school friend Jack is also courting her.

Written and taking place in the early 1900s, this romantic mystery is a mix of excitement and heartbreak. What is the secret of Hildick Castle? And can Doctor Forester rid himself of the past that now haunts his life?

Mrs. O. F. Walton was a prolific writer in the late 1800s, and this abridged edition captures all of the original writer's insight into what makes a memorable story. With occasional modern line drawings.

* * *

Ghosts of the past kept flitting through his brain. Dark shadows which he tried to chase away seemed to pursue him. Here these ghosts were to be laid; here those shadows were to be dispelled; here that closed chapter was to be buried for ever. So he fought long and hard with the phantoms of the past until the assertive clock near his bedroom door announced that it was two o'clock.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-0-2

### Was I Right?

Mrs. O. F. Walton

Abridged Edition

A Victorian Romance

With modern line drawings

May Lindsay and her young stepsister Maggie are left penniless and homeless when their father the local doctor dies. Maggie can go to live with her three maiden aunts, but May at the age of nineteen is faced with a choice. Should she take the position of companion to a girl she doesn't know, who lives some distance away, or accept a proposal of marriage from the man who has been her friend since they were small children?

May Lindsay makes her decision, but it is not long before she wonders if she has done the right thing. This is a story of life in Victorian England as May, who has led a sheltered life, is pushed out into a much bigger world than she has previously known. She soon encounters titled families, and is taken on a tour of the Holy Land which occupies much of the story.

Two men seem to be a big disappointment to May Lindsay. Will her Christian faith hold strong in these troubles? Was she right in the decision she made before leaving home?

Mrs. O. F. Walton was a prolific writer in the late 1800s, and this abridged edition captures all of the original writer's insight into what makes a memorable story. With occasional modern line drawings.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-1-9

### In His Steps

Charles M. Sheldon

Abridged Edition

This new abridged edition of a classic story that has sold over an estimated 30 million copies, contains Charles Sheldon's original writing, with some passages sensitively abridged to allow his powerful story to come through for today's readers. Nothing in the storyline has been changed.

A homeless man staggers into a wealthy church and upsets the congregation. A week later he is dead. This causes the Rev. Henry Maxwell to issue a startling challenge to his congregation and to himself -- whatever you do in life over the next twelve months, ask yourself this question before making any decision: "What would Jesus do?"

The local newspaper editor, a novelist, a wealthy young woman who has inherited a million dollars, her friend who has been offered a professional singing career, the superintendent of the railroad workshops, a leading city merchant and others take up the challenge. But how will it all work out when things don't go as expected?

A bishop gives up his comfortable lifestyle -- and finds his life threatened in the city slums. The story is timeless. A great read, and a challenge to every Christian today.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9927642-9-6

Also available in paperback 254 pages 5.5 x 8.5 inches

Paperback ISBN 13: 978-19350791-8-7

A Previously Unpublished Book

### Locked Door Shuttered Windows

A Novel by J Stafford Wright

What is inside the fascinating house with the locked door and the shuttered windows? Satan wants an experiment. God allows it. John is caught up in the plan as Satan's human representative. The experiment? To demonstrate that there can be peace in the world if God allows Satan to run things in his own way. A group of people gather together in an idyllic village run by Satan, with no reference to God, and no belief in him.

J Stafford Wright has written this startling and gripping account of what happens when God stands back and Satan steps forward. All seems to go well for the people who volunteer to take part. And no Christians allowed!

John Longstone lost his faith when teaching at a theological college. Lost it for good -- or so he thinks. And then he meets Kathleen who never had a faith. As the holes start to appear in Satan's scheme for peace, they wonder if they should help or hinder the plans which seem to have so many benefits for humanity.

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-3-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-4-1

206 pages 5.25 x 8.0 inches

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### When it Was Dark

Guy Thorne

Abridged Edition

What would happen to the Christian faith if it could be proved beyond all doubt that Jesus did not rise from the dead? This is the situation when, at the end of the nineteenth century, eminent archaeologists working outside Jerusalem discover a tomb belonging to Joseph of Arimathea, with an inscription claiming that he took the body of Jesus from the first tomb and hid it. And there are even remains of a body. So no resurrection!

As churches quickly empty, some Christians cling to hope, saying that Jesus lives within them, so He must be the Son of God who rose from the dead. Others are relieved that they no longer have to believe and go to church. Society starts to break down.

With the backing of a wealthy industrialist, a young curate puts together a small team to investigate the involvement of a powerful atheist in the discovery. This is an abridged edition of a novel first published in 1903.

Guy Thorne was the English author of many thrillers in the early twentieth century, and this book was not intended specifically for the Christian market. It contains adult references in places, but no swearing or offensive language. Although it was written from a high church Anglican viewpoint, the author is positive about the various branches of the Christian faith, finding strengths and weaknesses in individual church and chapel members as their beliefs are threatened by the discovery in Jerusalem. White Tree Publishing believes this book will be a great and positive challenge to Christians today as we examine the reality of our faith.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

Published jointly with North View Publishing

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9954549-0-3

### Silverbeach Manor

Margaret S. Haycraft

Abridged edition

Pansy is an orphan who is cared for by her aunt, Temperance Piper, who keeps the village post office and store. One day Pansy meets wealthy Mrs. Adair who offers to take her under her wing and give her a life of wealth in high society that she could never dream of, on condition Pansy never revisits her past life. When they first meet, Mrs. Adair says about Pansy's clothes, "The style is a little out of date, but it is good enough for the country. I should like to see you in a really well-made dress. It would be quite a new sensation for you, if you really belong to these wilds. I have a crimson and gold tea gown that would suit you delightfully, and make you quite a treasure for an artist." This is a story of rags to riches to ... well, to a life where nothing is straightforward. First published in 1891.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-4-1

### Gildas Haven

Margaret S. Haycraft

Abridged edition

For several years in the peaceful English village of Meadthorpe, the church and chapel have existed in an uneasy peace while the rector and the chapel minister are distracted by poor health. Now a young curate arrives at St Simeon's, bringing high church ritual and ways of worship. Gildas Haven, the daughter of the chapel minister is furious to discover the curate is enticing her Sunday school children away. The curate insists that his Church ways are right, and Gildas who has only known chapel worship says the opposite.

Battle lines are quickly drawn by leaders and congregations. Mary Haycraft writes with light humour and surprising insight in what could be a controversial story line. With at least one major surprise, the author seems to be digging an impossible hole for herself as the story progresses. The ending of this sensitively told romance is likely to come as a surprise.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-7-2

### Amaranth's Garden

Margaret S. Haycraft

Abridged edition

"It seems, Miss, your father drew out that money yesterday, and took it all out in gold. The Rector happened to be in the Bank at the time, but was on his way to town, and could not stop to talk to your father just then, though he wondered to hear him say he had come to draw out everything, as treasurer of the fund." Amaranth Glyn's comfortable life comes to an end when the church funds disappear. Her father, the church treasurer who drew out the money, is also missing, to be followed shortly by her mother. The disgrace this brings on the family means Amaranth's marriage plans are cancelled. Amaranth is a competent artist and moves away with her young brother to try to earn a living. There are rumours that her parents are in France and even in Peru. Caring for her sick brother, Amaranth wants life to be as it was before the financial scandal forced her to leave her family home and the garden she loved.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-6-5

### Rose Capel's Sacrifice

Margaret Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

Rose and Maurice Capel find themselves living in poverty through no fault of their own, and their daughter Gwen is dangerously ill and in need of a doctor and medicine, which they cannot possibly afford. There seems to be only one option -- to offer their daughter to Maurice Capel's unmarried sister, Dorothy, living in the beautiful Welsh countryside, and be left with nothing more than memories of Gwen. Dorothy has inherited her father's fortune and cut herself off from the family. Although Gwen would be well cared for, if she got better and Rose and Maurice's finances improved, would they be able to ask for Gwen to be returned? Another story from popular Victorian writer Margaret S. Haycraft.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9954549-3-4

### Una's Marriage

### Margaret Haycraft

Una Latreille inherits the St Pensart's estate which has been in the family since the Norman Conquest. Unfortunately the estate is now bankrupt, and although still in mourning, Una's only hope of living in the style to which she has been accustomed is to marry a wealthy man, and quickly. Several suitors have disappeared after learning of the debts, and the one man who still expresses any interest in Una is Keith Broughton. Keith started work as a mill hand, and is now the young and wealthy owner of a large woollen mill. But how can she possibly marry so far beneath her class? Reluctantly, Una agrees to marriage on condition that there is no physical contact between them, and certainly no honeymoon! She also insists that she will never, ever suffer the indignity of meeting anyone in his family, or put one foot inside the door of his mill. This book was first published in 1898 by SW Partridge and Co, publishers of both Christian and secular books. Although there is no openly Christian message in this story, unlike the majority of Margaret Haycraft's books, it deals sensitively with the true nature of love -- as well as being an extremely readable story.

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9957594-5-9

### Miss Elizabeth's Niece

### Margaret Haycraft

"You have scandalised your name and ours, and the only thing to do is to make the best of it, and teach Maisie at least the first principles of ladylike conduct." Trevor Stratheyre, from a wealthy and aristocratic English family, impulsively marries Maisie, a servant girl he meets while touring the Continent. Maisie's mother had died at an Italian inn, leaving three-year-old Maisie to be brought up by the landlord and his wife. She now helps as a maid at the inn and cares for the animals. Maisie is charming and affectionate, but when Trevor brings her back to Stratheyre in England as his bride, to the large estate he is expecting to inherit, it is clear that Maisie's ways are not those of the upper classes. When she tells titled guests at dinner that she was once herding some cows home and one was struck by lightning, trouble is bound to follow.

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9957594-7-3

### The Clever Miss Jancy

### Margaret S. Haycraft

Miss Orabel Jancy is indeed clever, and she knows it. The oldest of widowed Squire Jancy's six children, all living at home, Orabel is the author of several scientific books, and has many letters after her name. To Orabel, education and intellectual pursuits are everything that matter in life. She is secretary of a women's intellectual club that teaches that women are superior to men, and the members have all agreed to remain single because men would hold them back in their academic goals. However, when Orabel was born, a deathbed promise was made with a friend that Orabel and the friend's son, Harold Kingdon, should be given the opportunity to marry. Nobody thinks to mention this to Orabel, and she only learns of the arrangement when she is grown up and Harold Kingdon is already on his way from India -- to propose to her! Even before Harold arrives, Orabel decides she cannot possibly marry a lowly military doctor, when she is so intelligent. As soon as they meet, the feeling of dislike is mutual. But Orabel's younger sister, Annis, who never did well in academic subjects, is also of marriageable age, and would dearly love to settle down with the right man. Their younger brother and small sisters view the developing situation with interest.

The Squire had never found courage to broach the fact of the offer to Orabel, who looks as though her blue eyes would wither the sheet of foreign notepaper in front of her.

"You know, Orabel," puts in Annis, "we _did_ hear something long ago about papa and mamma promising somebody or other out in India should have a chance to court you."

"Oh, _do_ say 'yes,' Orabel," pleads a chorus of little sisters. "It will be so _lovely_ to have a wedding, and Phil can be a page and wear a fancy dress."

"Can he?" growls Philip. "I'd like to catch myself in lace and velvet like those kids at the Hemmings' last week. Orabel, I think you ought to send him your portrait. Let him know, at least, what he's wooing."

With these words Philip beats a prudent retreat, and Orabel gives utterance to such tones that Annis, trembling at her side, is almost in tears.

"Has it come to this," Orabel asks, "that I, the secretary of the Mount Athene Club, should be affronted, insulted by a letter like this? Am I not Orabel Jancy? Am I not the pioneer of a new and emancipating system? And who is this Harold Kingdon that he dares to cross my path with his jests concerning infantile betrothal?"

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9957594-9-7

### A Daughter of the King

Mrs Philip Barnes

There are the usual misunderstandings in the small village of Royden, but one year they combine to cause serious friction. An elderly lady, the embodiment of kindness, is turned out of her favourite pew by the new vicar. Young and old residents start to view each other with suspicion when a banished husband returns, allegedly to harm his wife and children as he did once before. Both Mary Grey and Elsa Knott want to marry young Gordon Pyne, who lives in the White House, but Gordon is suddenly accused of his father's murder. This is a very readable romance from 1909, with many twists and turns. It has been lightly abridged and edited. A story in the style of those by White Tree Publishing's most popular author, Margaret S. Haycraft.

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9957594-8-0

### Keena Karmody

Eliza Kerr

Keena Karmody finishes school in London and invites her young French teacher, Marie Delorme, to stay with her on her grandfather's estate at Céim-an-eich in Ireland as her tutor, to complete her education. One day Keena will inherit the large house and the family money. As time goes on, Marie Delorme's stay becomes permanent as she makes secret plans to take possession of the estate. When Keena's grandfather dies, Keena finds that he has made a very different will than the one everyone expected, and Marie is now mistress of the house. What is the shameful family secret that no one has ever discussed with Keena? Her only hope of getting her life back together lies in discovering this secret, and the answer could be with her father's grave in Tuscany. Homeless and penniless Keena Karmody sets out for Italy.

"When she had sought out and found that grave in the distant Tuscan village, and learned the story of her father's life and death, perhaps then death would come, and she might be laid there at his side in peace, and Marie would dwell in Céim-an-eich."

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-5-4

### Rollica Reed

Eliza Kerr

When Rollica Reed is left an orphan at the age of sixteen, a friend of her father's takes her in, much to the dismay of his wife and two older daughters who consider themselves to be the cream of Victorian society. The wife and daughters resent Rollica as an intruder, and try to make her life wretched, humiliating her in front of friends and telling her she is too common to be a lady. The two unmarried daughters are concerned by Rollica's naturally good looks, and want to cut her off from meeting any of their friends. Rollica soon learns she must not show any sign of weakness if she is to survive. But can she ever forgive?

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-6-1

## Books for Younger Readers

### (and older readers too!)

### The Merlin Adventure

Chris Wright

The day Daniel Talbot brought home a stuffed duck in a glass case, everyone thought he'd gone out of his mind. Even he had his doubts at times. "Fancy spending your money on _that_ ," his mother scolded him. "You needn't think it's coming into this house, because it isn't!"

When Daniel, Emma, Charlie and Julia, the Four Merlins, set out to sail their model paddle steamer on the old canal, strange and dangerous things start to happen. Then Daniel and Julia make a discovery they want to share with the others.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-2-7

Paperback ISBN: 9785-203447-7-5

5x8 inches 182 pages

Available from major internet stores

The Hijack Adventure

Chris Wright

Anna's mother has opened a transport café, but why do the truck drivers avoid stopping there? An accident in the road outside brings Anna a new friend, Matthew. When they get trapped in a broken down truck with Matthew's dog, Chip, their adventure begins.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-6-5

Available now in paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-0-5

5x8 inches 140 pages

Available from major internet stores

The Seventeen Steps Adventure

Chris Wright

When Ryan's American cousin, Natalie, comes to stay with him in England, a film from their Gran's old camera holds some surprise photographs, and they discover there's more to photography than taking selfies! But where are the Seventeen Steps, and has a robbery been planned to take place there?

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-7-2

Available now in paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-6-7

5x8 inches 132 pages

Available from major internet stores

### The Two Jays Adventure

The First Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

James and Jessica, the Two Jays, are on holiday in the West Country in England where they set out to make some exciting discoveries. Have they found the true site of an ancient holy well? Is the water in it dangerous? Why does an angry man with a bicycle tell them to keep away from the deserted stone quarry?

A serious accident on the hillside has unexpected consequences, and an old Latin document may contain a secret that's connected to the two strange stone heads in the village church -- if James and Jessica can solve the puzzle. An adventure awaits! This is the first Two Jays adventure story. You can read them in any order, although each one goes forward slightly in time.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-8-9

Available now in paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-8-1

5x8 inches 196 pages

Available from major internet stores

### The Dark Tunnel Adventure

The Second Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

James and Jessica, the Two Jays, are on holiday in the Derbyshire Peak District in England, staying near Dakedale Manor, which has been completely destroyed in a fire. Did young Sam Stirling burn his family home down? Miss Parkin, the housekeeper, says he did, and she can prove it. Sam says he didn't, and he can't prove it. But Sam has gone missing. James and Jessica believe the truth lies behind one of the old iron doors inside the disused railway tunnel. This is the second Two Jays adventure story. You can read them in any order, although each one goes forward slightly in time.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-0-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5206386-3-8

188 pages 5x8 inches

Available from major internet stores

$5.99 £4.95

### The Cliff Edge Adventure

The Third Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

James and Jessica's Aunt Judy lives in a lonely guest house perched on top of a crumbling cliff on the west coast of Wales. She is moving out with her dog for her own safety, because she has been warned that the waves from the next big storm could bring down a large part of the cliff -- and her house with it. Cousins James and Jessica, the Two Jays, are helping her sort through her possessions, and they find an old papyrus page they think could be from an ancient copy of one of the Gospels. Two people are extremely interested in having it, but can either of them be trusted? James and Jessica are alone in the house. It's dark, the electricity is off, and the worst storm in living memory is already battering the coast. Is there someone downstairs? This is the third Two Jays adventure story. You can read them in any order, although each one goes forward slightly in time.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-4-2

**Paperback ISBN:** **9781-5-211370-3-1**

188 pages 5x8 inches

$5.99 £4.95

### The Midnight Farm Adventure

The Fourth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

What is hidden in the old spoil tip by the disused Midnight Mine? Two men have permission to dig there, but they don't want anyone watching -- especially not Jessica and James, the Two Jays. And where is Granfer Joe's old tin box, full of what he called his treasure? The Easter holiday at Midnight Farm in Cornwall isn't as peaceful as James's parents planned. An early morning bike ride nearly ends in disaster, and with the so-called Hound of the Baskerville running loose, things turn out to be decidedly dangerous. This is the fourth Two Jays adventure story. You can read them in any order, although each one goes forward slightly in time.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-1-6

Also available in paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5497148-3-2

200 pages 5x8 inches

$5.99 £4.95

### Mary Jones and Her Bible

An Adventure Book

Chris Wright

The true story of Mary Jones's and her Bible

with a clear Christian message and optional puzzles

(Some are easy, some tricky, and some amusing)

Mary Jones saved for six years to buy a Bible of her own. In 1800, when she was 15, she thought she had saved enough, so she walked barefoot for 26 miles (more than 40km) over a mountain pass and through deep valleys in Wales to get one. That's when she discovered there were none for sale!

You can travel with Mary Jones today in this book by following clues, or just reading the story. Either way, you will get to Bala where Mary went, and if you're really quick you may be able to discover a Bible just like Mary's in the market!

The true story of Mary Jones has captured the imagination for more than 200 years. For this book, Chris Wright has looked into the old records and discovered even more of the story, which is now in this unforgettable account of Mary Jones and her Bible. Solving puzzles is part of the fun, but the whole story is in here to read and enjoy whether you try the puzzles or not. Just turn the page, and the adventure continues. It's time to get on the trail of Mary Jones!

eBook ISBN: **ISBN: 978-0-9933941-5-7**

Paperback ISBN 978-0-9525956-2-5

5.5 x 8.5 inches

156 pages of story, photographs, line drawings and puzzles

Pilgrim's Progress

An Adventure Book

Chris Wright

Travel with young Christian as he sets out on a difficult and perilous journey to find the King. Solve the puzzles and riddles along the way, and help Christian reach the Celestial City. Then travel with his friend Christiana. She has four young brothers who can sometimes be a bit of a problem.

Be warned, you will meet giants and lions -- and even dragons! There are people who don't want Christian and Christiana to reach the city of the King and his Son. But not everyone is an enemy. There are plenty of friendly people. It's just a matter of finding them.

Are you prepared to help? Are you sure? The journey can be very dangerous! As with our book Mary Jones and Her Bible, you can enjoy the story even if you don't want to try the puzzles.

This is a simplified and abridged version of Pilgrim's Progress -- Special Edition, containing illustrations and a mix of puzzles. The suggested reading age is up to perhaps ten. Older readers will find the same story told in much greater detail in Pilgrim's Progress -- Special Edition on the next page.

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9933941-6-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-6-3

5.5 x 8.5 inches 174 pages £6.95

Available from major internet stores

Pilgrim's Progress

### Special Edition

Chris Wright

This book for all ages is a great choice for young readers, as well as for families, Sunday school teachers, and anyone who wants to read John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress in a clear form.

All the old favourites are here: Christian, Christiana, the Wicket Gate, Interpreter, Hill Difficulty with the lions, the four sisters at the House Beautiful, Vanity Fair, Giant Despair, Faithful and Talkative -- and, of course, Greatheart. The list is almost endless.

The first part of the story is told by Christian himself, as he leaves the City of Destruction to reach the Celestial City, and becomes trapped in the Slough of Despond near the Wicket Gate. On his journey he will encounter lions, giants, and a creature called the Destroyer.

Christiana follows along later, and tells her own story in the second part. Not only does Christiana have to cope with her four young brothers, she worries about whether her clothes are good enough for meeting the King. Will she find the dangers in Vanity Fair that Christian found? Will she be caught by Giant Despair and imprisoned in Doubting Castle? What about the dragon with seven heads?

It's a dangerous journey, but Christian and Christiana both know that the King's Son is with them, helping them through the most difficult parts until they reach the Land of Beulah, and see the Celestial City on the other side of the Dark River. This is a story you will remember for ever, and it's about a journey you can make for yourself.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-8-8

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-7-0

5.5 x 8.5 inches 278 pages

Available from major internet stores

### Zephan and the Vision

Chris Wright

An exciting story about the adventures of two angels who seem to know almost nothing -- until they have a vision!

Two ordinary angels are caring for the distant Planet Eltor, and they are about to get a big shock -- they are due to take a trip to Planet Earth! This is Zephan's story of the vision he is given before being allowed to travel with Talora, his companion angel, to help two young people fight against the enemy.

Arriving on Earth, they discover that everyone lives in a small castle. Some castles are strong and built in good positions, while others appear weak and open to attack. But it seems that the best-looking castles are not always the most secure.

Meet Castle Nadia and Castle Max, the two castles that Zephan and Talora have to defend. And meet the nasty creatures who have built shelters for themselves around the back of these castles. And worst of all, meet the shadow angels who live in a cave on Shadow Hill. This is a story about the forces of good and the forces of evil. Who will win the battle for Castle Nadia?

The events in this story are based very loosely on John Bunyan's allegory The Holy War.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-6-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-9-4

5.5 x 8.5 inches 216 pages

Available from major internet stores

### Agathos, The Rocky Island,

### And Other Stories

Chris Wright

Once upon a time there were two favourite books for Sunday reading: _Parables from Nature_ and _Agathos and The Rocky Island_.

These books contained short stories, usually with a hidden meaning. In this illustrated book is a selection of the very best of these stories, carefully retold to preserve the feel of the originals, coupled with ease of reading and understanding for today's readers.

Discover the king who sent his servants to trade in a foreign city. The butterfly who thought her eggs would hatch into baby butterflies, and the two boys who decided to explore the forbidden land beyond the castle boundary. The spider that kept being blown in the wind, the soldier who had to fight a dragon, the four children who had to find their way through a dark and dangerous forest. These are just six of the nine stories in this collection. Oh, and there's also one about a rocky island!

This is a book for a young person to read alone, a family or parent to read aloud, Sunday school teachers to read to the class, and even for grownups who want to dip into the fascinating stories of the past all by themselves. Can you discover the hidden meanings? You don't have to wait until Sunday before starting!

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9927642-7-2

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-8-7

5.5 x 8.5 inches 148 pages £5.95

Available from major internet stores

Don't forget to check our website www.whitetreepublishing.com for the latest books, and updates on availability

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