SIX long years passed away since the event narrated at the commencement of our last chapter, and still Kate retained her post of English teacher in Madame Moret's establishment. Many a change had taken place during the interval. Maude and Carrie had been removed from Madame's care. A kind uncle having volunteered to pay the premium required to apprentice them to any business they preferred, Maude had entered a stationer's warehouse, and Carrie, inheriting much of her mother's taste in needlework, had requested that she might be allowed to learn the secrets of Berlin wool and fancy work. Comfortable homes had been found for them, and Kate had more than one letter in her possession speaking of the satisfaction each girl gave to her employer.
Sydney, too, had completed his last term at school, and through the kind interest of a friend of aunt Mary, had been entered as one of the junior clerks in the telegraph office. Gerald had married about two years before; and judging from the smile that generally rested upon my young mistress's lips as she perused his letters, there was no reason to suppose that the marriage, though rather premature, was anything but a happy one.
From Mr. Grahame Kate heard but seldom, and even his letters conveyed but little definite information as to his occupation, or manner of living. He had, it would appear, long since quitted the lodging in Mary Street, and was now sharing apartments with an old acquaintance in a better part of the city. Of Kate herself I will only say that during those six years she had learned much of that God-given secret-" the peace of God which passeth understanding."
And Madame Moret? You would like to hear something more of her. Her affection for my young mistress had developed into warm, earnest love. True to her promise, she had indeed striven to be a mother to the lonely girl. Madame Moret had been a true friend to the motherless family. And as she reaped the sweet effects of her altered course of action, she resolved to strive more earnestly against her natural inclination to reserve and silence. “How many blessings I have missed!" she said to Kate one day as she perused a letter from one of her late pupils. "How grateful Ethel Atherton is for that little assistance of mine with her private Bible readings."
Happily for the good of the children connected with the establishment, the baneful influences of Mademoiselle Dulan and Fraulein Schmidt had long since come to an end. In a moment of annoyance at some innovation of what they had grown to consider as their “schoolroom rights," they had rather unceremoniously informed Madame Moret that "their engagement with her must terminate at the earliest opportunity." Startled and surprised as Madame Moret had been at the abruptness of the intimation, she had by that time become somewhat enlightened as to the principles of the ladies with whom she had to do; and much to their surprise and astonishment the lady principal made no objection to their wishes.
But of all the changes that had passed over this busy dwelling-house, none was so great as the one the household was shortly anticipating. Only another fortnight, and Madame was to become the wife of a christian gentleman, who had for a considerable time been well-known to most of the members of the establishment. Easter was approaching, and the marriage was arranged to take place during the recess. The school was also to be transferred to other hands during that period, as Mr. Ashworth did not approve of Madame continuing her profession after their union, declaring that he had so much work in store for her, that she would not have time “to do justice to her pupils."
It was Madame's wish that Kate should share her new home, and be to her as she had been before; but my dear young mistress instinctively felt there were many obstacles to such a proposal. It certainly required a little effort on the part of the gentle, clinging Kate to refuse the offer so kindly made by her much-loved friend. But there were others to be considered as well as herself, and the thought of the dear ones even now partially dependent upon her for support at once decided her course of action.
“The Lord has been very good to me, and has guided me so far," she said to herself one evening, as she rose from her kneeling posture by the bedside. "I will trust Him fully to guide me now in whatever may be His will concerning me." And He who ever hears the prayer of faith sent the sweet word of His consolation into her soul. He gave the answer to the dependent spirit. For not by chance did her eager eyes rest upon the blessed words in Psa. 32:8-11:
“I will instruct thee, and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye. Be ye not as the horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding: whose mouth must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee. Many sorrows shall be to the wicked but lie that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compass him about. Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart."
“Yes," exclaimed Kate, as she closed her well-used Bible, "I, too, can rejoice, and know that this is the same Lord that loves and cares for me. He will guide me by His eye, if only I am near enough to Him to read His direction aright. I suppose," she continued, as she mused upon the verses she had been reading, “the horse naturally is inclined to go too fast, while the mule, unless urged forward, would go too slowly. Yes! I see the meaning of that verse as I never did before. We must not go before the Lord and plan out our own pathway, neither must we lag behind as the slow-pacing mule; but we must be with Him, by His side, ready to follow where He may lead."
“Kate," said Madame to my young mistress one evening, "the more I think of your proposal to leave me the less I like it." They were in the comfortable dressing-room again, the pupils having retired to rest some time previous to this. “I cannot bear to think of the way in which I shall miss you."
“It will be all right, dear Madame," said Kate, as she drew her chair close to Madame's side, and placed her hand confidingly in hers. “I feel it is the Lord's mind for me to find work elsewhere."
“I am not sure of that, my dear," said Madame, as she turned and cast a searching glance on the eager, wishful face at her side.
“But I am," was the low, yet earnest response. “Dear Madame, your goodness is very sweet to me; but I am young and strong to work. There are others who need what I can earn."
“Since you have tried composing, you always have had a little to spend in buying presents for Maude, Carrie, and your father! And besides, I can give you a little assistance still, whenever you require it."
“I must not trust to my music, Madame."
“But you're not going to give that up too, are you, Kate?" asked Madame in an uneasy tone.
“These last two years you have earned a fair sum by selling your copyrights."
“Oh no! Madame," replied my young mistress quickly. “I love music too well to give it up so easily; but I am not sure of always being so successful. I may want money for my father."
“Mr. Ashworth is very liberal, dear Kate," urged Madame, after a pause. “He would become as interested in you and your family as I am. Do you fear him?"
“He is most kind, dear Madame," said Kate, as the tears glistened in her speaking eyes. “But my Bible tells me that it is right to work with one's hands the thing which is good, that one may have to give to him that needeth."
“Perhaps you are right, darling," said Madame, as she sat looking into the fire. “Maude and Carrie will be out of their apprenticeship in another year. You'll be able to come back to me then, won't you?"
“Even when they are earning money for themselves, there will be Sydney and father, Madame," said Kate in a quiet, resolute tone.
“But your aunt Mary has the charge of Sydney!" said Madame Moret.
“We have no right to expect she will always have him, dear Madame," replied my young mistress. “God has given me health and strength, and the will to work for those dear to me; and it would not be worthy of Him if I shunned my responsibilities."
"And must I tell Mr. Ashworth, when he comes to-morrow, that you have decided to give up your old place in my affection, Kate?" asked Madame.
“Not that, dear Madame. Only tell him with my grateful thanks, that I feel I can look out for the Lord's blessing on my labors with more certainty than if I were living upon his bounty."
“Look up, my child," Madame said, as she pressed Kate in her arms for a parting embrace. “If it is His will for you to go, the way will be made very plain. I may wish it otherwise, but He knows best." And Kate could only bow in acquiescence to what her own heart had long since given assent.