YES! Once more I was with my dear mistress. A sad change had passed over her peaceful countenance since I had last quitted the humble apartment in Mary Street. I could read in that indescribable expression of the thin, pale lips the hours of anguish that lay behind. And though her face was as calm and peaceful now as in the days of prosperity, yet the terrible tossings of the tempest could have been hushed only by Him who had said, "Peace, be still!" She had also grown somewhat feeble. Her loving heart was crushed by the news of her son's disgrace; this lay upon the spirit with a pressure that none but a mother could feel.
The children had grown. Kate looked paler, and just a little anxious. One could see the searching gaze she fixed upon her mother from time to time, as if a subject of painful consideration were absorbing her thoughts.
Mr. Grahame had never recovered his former activity. The consciousness of his sad business failure seemed to deprive him of the energy of mind and body requisite to commence business anew on his own account, even in a more lowly way. So he, sometimes in one place and sometimes in another, occupied his time in assisting others wherever he could obtain employment. But even this could not always be procured, and there were times when the pinchings of poverty were experienced by the tried family. The empty breakfast table would tell its own piteous tale, and hungry children learned its bitter meaning.
It was upon one such occasion that, after the younger children had quitted the apartment, Kate took a low, wooden stool and placed it by her mother's side. “Mother," she said, as she looked up into the face of her loving parent, "I want to talk to you a little this morning; can you bear it?" The soft touch on the brown hair was sufficient response. Mrs. Grahame could not speak, her heart was too full.
“Don’t you think I could do something to help in this?" asked Kate, with her earnest eyes looking straight into the mother's face.
“What could you do, darling, more than you are doing?" was Mrs. Grahame's response.
“But I mean more, mother. These little cares, one here and another there, seem nothing. It troubles me that I can do no more."
“My child, you do not need me to tell you the comfort you are to me! Is that nothing? "
“But, mother," answered Kate, "these little home duties bring you no real help. Maude and Carrie could do what I do."
“What do you mean, darling?" asked Mrs. Grahame, as she noticed the eager, half-timid expression on her daughter's countenance.
“Mother," was the response, with a little difficulty of expression, "I have thought of it a long time, and now, every day, the more distinctly I see the necessity for it. You would not like me to leave you."
“Leave me, my child?" repeated Mrs. Grahame in surprise.
“Yes, mother dear," said Kate, in rather an unsteady voice. “The world is large, and there must be work for those who are willing to do it."
"What work could you do, Kate?" was the next response, not spoken till after a short pause.
“Teach music, drawing, other things, mother."
“You think you might get an engagement as governess?" asked the mother, again passing her hand over the soft, brown hair. “And Maude, Carrie, Sydney! What of them? "
"I have thought of them, mother. If I am away earning money, why should they not go to school?"
" And what should I do without you, darling? " said Mrs. Grahame, as she saw some force in Kate's proposition; but her voice was low and tender, telling of a depth of feeling stirred in her bosom by the appeal.
"Mother, I would endeavor to be a comfort to you wherever I was. I'd send you long letters."
Many were the obstacles and objections which presented themselves to the mind of Mr. Grahame when he heard of his daughter's plan. Finally, however, both parents yielded to their daughter's desire, and Kate was not now slow to do what lay in her power towards procuring an engagement.
It was, however, easier to be “ready for work" than to procure it, and so Kate found. Yet, is not there One who has said, "Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass. Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him"? With a sense of gratitude in her heart towards her heavenly Father, Kate Grahame finished the perusal of a letter she had just received.
“Father," said Kate, as she placed the letter in Mr. Grahame's hand, “the salary is not what I had hoped it would have been, but, at least, it is a fair beginning."
“Well, Kate," said Mr. Grahame, "perhaps it is the right thing after all for you to go. I seemed to hope you wouldn't get anything suitable; but this lady writes kindly."
“Yes, I think so," replied Kate.
“And she wishes you to commence your duties as soon as possible," remarked Mrs. Grahame, as she read the letter a second time. "Are you sure you will be happy, Kate?"
“I shall be happy in the knowledge of helping, ever so little, mother," was the quick response. “Don’t think about the troubles of my governess-life till you hear I have any."
“You don't know what lies before you, Kate," said the father after a pause, during which Mrs. Grahame had been watching every changing expression on Kate's expressive countenance.
“Isn’t it all the better for that, father?" she replied in a low tone. “If God has provided the work, He will keep me to do it."
“You will find hardships of a nature you little expect, my child," said Mrs. Grahame. “But you know the source of endurance-the One who can and will sustain in all conditions of life-who will perfect in us the desire to serve Him. I can trust you to Him, Kate." And the mother rose from her place, and went towards the little window to hide her own emotion.
“Do look at that mignonette, mother!" said Kate, as they stood side by side at the open window a little later in the day.
“I was thinking of it, darling, in connection with you," remarked Mrs. Grahame, as she plucked a small branch, and placed it in her daughter's hand. “Its odor is as sweet here as if it were surrounded by a more genial atmosphere. The fragrance of its blossoms is not lessened by the humble corner in which it blooms. Such should be the life of the lowly followers of the Lord Jesus. No display, no attractions to demand attention; ever lowly, ever fragrant, doing its happy work wherever its lot is cast. What about this new life before you, Kate? Do you fear it, darling? "
“Only a little, mother; not for the difficulties, but I fear myself. You will pray for me, mother; and when I look at this sprig of mignonette, I shall think of what you have said."
“That will soon fade, dear Kate," said Mrs. Grahame, as she kissed her daughter. “My words will, I doubt not, be thought of long after that little blossom will fade away."
“It is going in my Bible, mother," said Kate. “I shall keep it there."
Oh, how lonely the house seemed when Kate really left us! The little back room seemed to be duller than ever, as if the sun had passed behind a cloud, the shadow of which rested upon us all. Maude, Carrie and Sydney now attended school daily. This allowed my dear mistress to have some time alone. How often would she be found sitting in her accustomed seat, anxiously regarding some worn garment which required attention! Her dexterous fingers had enough to do to make the well-worn articles fit for further use.
Her open Bible was Mrs. Grahame's constant companion at such seasons. Solitary the days might have been otherwise; but with her Savior by her side, in that lowly dwelling Mrs. Grahame was happy. Ah! who teacheth like Him? Well may she be happy in thus sitting at the feet of Jesus.
“Here’s the railway parcel van stopping at the door, mother," said Sydney, as he entered the house one evening, about three months after Kate's departure. "I expect it's a parcel for Ruthie! Her uncle sent her one before, she told Maude yesterday."
“For Ruthie!" said Mrs. Grahame in a quiet tone. "How delighted she will be! She has not many pleasures, poor afflicted child!"
Ruth Gray, the landlady's child, was lame; she had for the last six months suffered more than usual from the pain in her diseased hip. Gentle, amiable, and very patient through all her sufferings, Mrs. Grahame was pleased for her children to make a companion of the little sufferer.
"Don't you disturb Ruthie, my boy," said the mother, as she noticed the boy's look towards Mrs. Gray's sitting-room.
“I only just want to know from whom it comes," said Sydney with boyish curiosity. "She won't mind, mother!”
But before he had left the doorway where he was standing, Mrs. Gray herself appeared. In her hand she carried a large package. "I find it's for you, ma'am," she said in her low deferential manner.
“I think you are mistaken, Mrs. Gray," replied Mrs. Grahame. “It’s from Kate!" said the mother as she examined the handwriting upon the label. "From Kate, mother!" echoed Maude and Carrie, who had just come in from a short walk.
Oh, the delightful surprise of mother and children as the contents of the parcel were displayed! Several yards of warm flannel for the coming winter's use, some yards of strong, comfortable-looking linsey, sufficient to make a dress for each of the two girls; a warm scarf for Sydney, and a pair of gloves for father. A small parcel of money was also enclosed.
"I am working very hard, darling mother," an accompanying letter concluded by saying, "and the recompense is worth the trouble. Don't be anxious about me! My mignonette still whispers its little message, and I often look at it and think of you."
"The Lord bless her with His best of blessings," said the father on his return to supper, and the mother's heart echoed what the father's lips expressed. Shall we say who was the happiest-Kate, with her power to send the gifts of love, or the happy father and mother who received them? Into our minds like a soft cadence of heart-music comes that little whisper, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."