MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – Timeless Children Classics & Other Novels. Finley Martha

of mingled love and anguish in his eyes, which were intently fixed upon the other photograph; he having taken it up as she threw it aside.

      "Oh Harold!" she moaned, in low, agitated tones.

      He sighed deeply, but his brow cleared, and a look of peace and resignation stole over his face as he turned his eyes on her.

      "I think there is no sin in the love I bear you now, Elsie," he said; "I rejoice in your happiness and am willing to see you in the possession of another; more than willing, since I must so soon pass away. But it was not always so; my love and grief were hard to conquer, and this—bringing you before me just as you were that night that gave you to another and made my love a sin—brought back for a moment the anguish that wrung my heart at the sight."

      "You were there, then?"

      "Yes; just for a few moments. I found I must look upon the scene, though it broke my heart. I arrived at the last minute, stood in the shadow of the doorway during the ceremony, saw you look up towards me at its conclusion, then turned and fled from the house; fearful of being recognized and forced to betray my secret which I felt I could not hide.

      "But don't weep for me, dear friend, my sorrow and disappointment proved blessings in disguise, for through them I was brought to a saving knowledge of Him

      "'whom my soul desires above

       All earthly joy or earthly love.'"

      "And oh, Harold, how infinitely more is His love worth than mine!"

      But her eye fell upon Walter's letter lying forgotten in her lap. She took it up, glanced over it, then read it more carefully, pausing often to wipe away the blinding tears. As she finished, Mr. Travilla came in.

      "Here is a letter from Walter, Edward," she said, in tremulous tones, as she handed it to him.

      "Then the report of his death was untrue?" he exclaimed inquiringly, a glad look coming into his face.

      "Only too true," she answered, with a fresh burst of tears; and Harold briefly explained.

      "Shall I read it aloud, wife?" Mr. Travilla asked.

      "If Harold cares to hear. There is no secret."

      "I should like it greatly," Harold said; and Mr. Travilla read it to him, while Elsie moved away to the farther side of the room, her heart filled with a strange mixture of emotions, in which grief was uppermost.

      The letter was filled chiefly with an account of the writer's religious experience. Since his last visit to the Oaks he had been constantly rejoicing in the love of Christ, and now, expecting, as he did, to fall in the coming battle, death had no terrors for him. And he owed this, he said, in great measure to the influence of his brother Horace and Elsie, especially to the beautiful consistency of her Christian life through all the years he had known her.

      Through all her grief and sadness, what joy and thankfulness stirred in her breast at that thought. Very humble and unworthy she felt; but oh, what gladness to learn that her Master had thus honored her as an instrument in His hands.

      The door opened softly, and her three little ones came quietly in and gathered about her. They had been taught thoughtfulness for others: Uncle Harold was ill, and they would not disturb him.

      Leaning confidingly on her lap, lifting loving, trustful eyes to her face, "Mamma," they said, low and softly, "we have had our supper; will you come with us now?"

      "Yes, dear, presently."

      "Mamma," whispered little Elsie, with a wistful, tender gaze into the soft sweet eyes still swimming in tears, "dear mamma, something has made you sorry. What can I do to comfort you?"

      "Love me, darling, and be good; you are mamma's precious little comforter. See dears," and she held the photograph so that all could have a view, "it is dear Uncle Walter in his soldier dress." A big tear rolled down her cheek.

      "Mamma," Elsie said quickly, "how good he looks! and he is so happy where Jesus is."

      "Yes, daughter, we need shed no tears for him."

      "Dear Uncle Walter," "Poor Uncle Walter!" the other two were saying.

      "There, papa has finished reading; go now and bid good-night to him and Uncle Harold," their mother said; and they hastened to obey.

      They climbed their father's knees and hung about his neck with the most confiding affection, while he caressed them over and over again, Harold looking on with glistening eyes.

      "Now some dood fun, papa: toss Vi up in oo arms," said the little one, expecting the usual game of romps.

      "Not to-night, pet; some other time. Another sweet kiss for papa, and now one for Uncle Harold."

      "After four years of camp, prison, and hospital life, it is a very pleasant change to be among the children," Harold said, as the door closed upon Elsie and her little flock.

      "I feared their noise and perpetual motion might disturb you," Mr. Travilla answered.

      "Not at all; yours are not boisterous, and their pretty ways are very winning."

      Aunt Chloe and Dinah were in waiting, and soon had the three small figures robed each in its white night-dress.

      Then mamma—seated upon a sofa with little Violet on her lap, the other two, one on each side—was quite at their disposal for the next half hour or so; ready to listen or to talk; her sweet sympathy and tender love encouraging them to open all their young hearts to her, telling her of any little joy or sorrow, trouble, vexation, or perplexity.

      "Well, darlings, have you remembered your verses and our little talk about them this morning?" the mother asked. "Elsie may speak first, because she is the eldest."

      "Mamma, I have thought of them many times," answered the sweet child voice; "we had a nice, nice walk with papa this morning, and the little birds, the brook, and the trees, and the pretty flowers and the beautiful blue sky all seemed to say to me, 'God is love.' Then mamma, once I was tempted to be naughty, and I said in my heart, 'Lord, help me,' and Jesus heard me."

      "What was it, dear?"

      "We had a little tea party, mamma, with our cousins, out under the trees, and there was pie and very rich cake——"

      "And 'serves," put in Eddie.

      "Yes, mamma, and preserves too, and they looked so good, and I wanted some, but I remembered that you and papa don't let us eat those things because they would make us sick. So I said, 'Lord, help me'; and then I felt so glad and happy, thinking how Jesus loves me."

      "My darling! He does, indeed," the mother said, with a gentle kiss.

      "And Eddie was good, and said, 'No, thank you; mamma and papa don't let us eat 'serves and pie.'"

      "Mamma's dear boy," and her hand passed softly over the curly head resting on her shoulder.

      "Mamma, I love you; I love you so much," he said, hugging her tight; "and dear papa, too; and Jesus. Mamma, I wanted to be naughty once to-day when one o' zese cousins took away my own new whip that papa buyed for me; but I remembered I mustn't be selfish and cross, and I said my little prayers jus' in my heart, mamma—and Jesus did help me to be good."

      "Yes, my dear son, and He will always help you when you ask Him. And now, what has Vi to tell mamma?"

      "Vi naughty girl one time, mamma: ky 'cause she didn't want mammy wash face and brush curls. Vi solly now;" and the golden head dropped upon mamma's breast.

      "Mamma's dear baby must try and be patient; mamma is sure she will, and Jesus will help her if she asks Him, and forgive her, if she is sorry for being naughty," the mother said, with a tender caress. "Now let us sing, 'Jesus loves me.'"

      The child voices blended very sweetly with the mother's as they sang in concert; then she told them a Bible story, heard each little prayer, saw them laid in their beds, gave each a tender good-night kiss, and left them to their rest.

      Passing into her dressing-room, she found her husband there,