"I am not sure it was chance. All our thoughts do not come in that way."

"Are the children here who are to reap the largest benefit from this affair?"

"Yes. Do you see those pale, pinched-faced girls with the pink-cotton frocks on, sitting at the end of that farthest bench, and these two boys just in front with clothes several sizes too large?"

He stood silently regarding them for some time, and then said: "The world is strangely divided. It is one of the reasons that makes me doubt the existence of a beneficent All-Father."

"But these may get safely into the light and fullness of Heaven."

"Yes," he said, thoughtfully; "but how few of them will live up to the requirements of admittance to that perfect place?"

"The rich have as many shortcomings as the poor. Sometimes I think they have even more."

"You are very democratic."

"Is that a serious charge against me? The one perfect Being our world has seen chose poverty, and a lot among the lowly. When the world grows older, and men get wiser, possibly they will make the same choice."

"There have been solitary instances of the like along the ages--men of whom the world was not worthy--but the most of us are not such stuff as heroes are made of."

I turned to him with kindling eyes: "Wouldn't you like to be one of them, Mr. Bovyer?"

He gave me a look that some way I did not care to meet, and turned my eyes away quickly to a restless black-eyed little girl who was stretching eager hands to a pink-cheeked dollie.

"You feel the sorrows of the poor and suffering more keenly than the most of us, I fear, Miss Selwyn," he said--more to draw me into conversation than anything else.

"My sympathies are of a very easy-going, aesthetic kind. Some of your splendid music makes me cry. While I listen, I think of the hungry and broken-hearted. I seem to hear their moans in the sob and swell of the music. It was that which made Beethoven's Symphony so sad."

He did not say anything for a good while, and fell to watching the longing in the children's faces, and my heart grew very pitiful towards them. They were so near and yet so far from the objects of their desire.

So I resolved while the supper table was being cleared to begin the distribution of my gifts, or rather, of Mr. Winthrop's.

I set Mr. Bovyer to work gathering the bags of confectionery, while I carried them around to the excited children, taking bench by bench in regular order, and filling the little outstretched hands, usually so empty of any such dainties. The people came crowding around to watch, while I began stripping the tree of its more enduring fruits. Mothers with tears in their eyes, as they saw their little tots growing rapturous over an unclothed dollie, or some other toy, beautiful to the unaccustomed eyes of the poor little creatures. The tree was stripped at last, and the children absorbed in the examination of their own or each other's presents. Most of them seemed perfectly content, but a few of the little boys looked enviously at the jack-knife in a companion's hand, while casting dissatisfied glances at what had fallen to themselves.

It was time at last for the little folks to go home, and mothers soon were busy hunting up children and their wraps.

The closing scene in the entertainment was the public announcement of the evening's receipts; and we all looked with surprised faces at each other when Mr. Bowen informed us that there was within a few cents of one hundred dollars. "Some of our guests this evening have treated us very generously; notably one gentleman in particular, who dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table beside me," Mr. Bowen said, in conclusion. I gave Mr. Bovyer a meaning glance and also a very grateful one; but it was apparently thrown away; for not a muscle of his face moved in response to my smile. Mrs. Blake went around for a while like one in a dream. "Deary me! it'll be jest like a fortin' to 'em," she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed at last; "but Miss Selwyn 'll have to take charge of it, or that mis'able Bill Sykes 'll drink it up in no time."

And then it was decided to act on Mrs. Blake's suggestion, and the money was given to me to expend on Mrs. Sykes and her children as they required,--a task soon accomplished when their need was so urgent. We went home that night very elated at the success of our venture. Cook was slightly inclined to a.s.sume a large share of the credit, and as her labor in the matter of cake and pastry making was so much greater than anything I had done, I gracefully yielded her all the credit she could desire. No doubt, in all undertakings, from the capture of a kingdom to a tea meeting, there are many among to whom the honors by right belong.

CHAPTER XIX.

THREE IMPORTANT LETTERS.

One evening when I returned from a long walk, Esmerelda gave me a letter directed in the most fashionable style of ladies' handwriting. I was a good deal surprised at receiving a letter through such a source, especially as Esmerelda whispered me to secrecy. I had no time to break the seal, for callers were waiting; and when they left, Mr. Winthrop summoned me to the study for a review of the week's reading. This was a custom he had some time before inst.i.tuted, and I was finding it increasingly interesting. He selected my course of reading, and a very strong bill of fare I was finding it, some of the pa.s.sages straining my utmost power of brain to comprehend. He had, as yet, confined me chiefly to German literature, mainly Kant and Lessing, with a dip into Schiller now and then, he said, by way of relaxation. He seemed gratified at the interest I took in his efforts to develop my intellectual powers, and sometimes he sat chatting with me, after the lesson was ended, by the firelight, until we were summoned to dinner. His mind appeared like some rich storehouse where every article has its appointed place; and while it held many a treasure from foreign sources, its own equipment was equal to the best. I could not always follow him. He gave me credit, I believe, for much greater brain power than I possessed; but what I could not comprehend made me the more eager to overcome the impediment of ignorance and stupidity. In these hours in his own study, where very few, save myself, were permitted to enter, he laid aside all badinage and severe criticism. I blundered sadly, at times, over the meaning of some specially difficult pa.s.sages; but he helped me through with a quiet patience that amazed me. I mentioned it one day to Mrs. Flaxman, expressing my surprise that he should so patiently endure my ignorance, and stupidity.

"It is just like him. He has a world of patience with any one really trying to do good work. I think he begins to understand you better. He is prejudiced against our s.e.x in the ma.s.s. He thinks we are more fond of pleasure than of anything else in the world; but if he once finds his mistake, his atonement is complete."

"Why is he so prejudiced?" I asked, hoping Mrs. Flaxman would continue the story Thomas had begun.

"He has had good reason. He is not one to rashly condemn one."

"But is it not rash to misjudge the many for the wrong doing of the single individual? It does not prove all are alike."

"Have you ever heard anything, Medoline?" She asked anxiously.

"Merely a hint, but I have built many a story on that."

"You must not trust servants or ignorant folks' gossip. I hope your Mill Road friends do not talk about your guardian."

"They scarcely mention his name. Mrs. Blake certainly expressed surprise, a long time ago, when we gave those vegetables away, that such a thing should take place at Oaklands. I would not permit any one to speak unkindly of Mr. Winthrop in my hearing," I said, proudly.

"That is right; he is not easy to understand, but one day you will find he is true as steel."

She left the room abruptly. I fancied she was afraid I might ask troublesome questions. Now as I sat in the study, I began to listen and dream together, wondering what sort of woman it was he could love and caress, and how she could lightly trample on his love. The tears came to my eyes as I looked and listened, picturing him the central sun of a perfect home, with wife and children enriching his heart with their love.

When those deep gray eyes looked into mine, my drooping lashes tried to conceal from their searching gaze, my mutinous thoughts. Strange that this particular evening, while I sat with the half forgotten letter in my pocket, imagination was busier than ever, while I found it more than usually difficult to comprehend Lessing's ponderous thoughts; and the desire seized me to leave these high thinkers, on their lonely mountain heights, and, with my guardian, come down to the summer places of everyday life.

He noticed my abstraction at last, for he said abruptly:

"Are you not interested in to-day's lesson, Medoline?"

I faltered as I met his searching eye.

"I am always interested in what you say, Mr. Winthrop; but to-day my thoughts have been wandering a good deal."

"Where have they been wandering to?"

My face crimsoned, but I kept silent.

"I would like to know what you were thinking about?" he said, gently.

"A young girl's foolish fancies would seem very childish to you, after what you have been talking about."

"Nevertheless, we like sometimes the childish and innocent. I have a fancy for it just now, Medoline."

"Please, Mr. Winthrop, I cannot tell you all my thoughts. They are surely my own, and cannot be torn from me ruthlessly."

"What sort of persons are you meeting now at your Mill Road Mission?"

He suddenly changed the conversation, to my intense relief.

"The very same that I have met all along, with the exception of the Sykes family--they are a new experience."

"Were you thinking of any one you know there just now, that caused your inattention?"

"Why, certainly not, Mr. Winthrop. I do not care so very much for them as that."