TWILIGHT.
When Maud had gone far enough to lose sight of Daisy and the dame, she slackened her pace, and looked about to see how beautiful the path had grown.
The trees met in green arches above her head; the road side was sprinkled with lovely flowers, fragrant in the evening air; and the breeze, stirring freshly, gave motion and a sweet, low sound to every thing. Insects were chirping merrily, and stars began to twinkle through the boughs.
Even Maud did not feel lonely; she had much to remember about the fair—all her purchases, all the compliments she had heard paid to her beauty, all Daisy's usefulness, and how sure she would be to make her go again.
But the scene about her grew every moment quieter and more beautiful; so that, leaving her worldly thoughts, a solemn feeling came over Maud, and she began to think of the still more beautiful place which was some time to be her home,—
And then of that Glorious One whom she was to love; mean and coarse seemed her earthly lovers when she thought of him, and their compliments vulgar and idle beside his gracious words.
"Ah, if I could but see this Christ once," thought Maud, "so that I might know what would please him, and could always remember him just as he really is! It is strange that he does not come when he must know how I am longing to behold his face."
And, in truth, Maud had never for an hour forgotten her sister's vision, but was constantly thinking what more she could do to make herself attractive when the Beautiful One should come.
She would not go out at noon, for fear of tanning her complexion; she hardly ate enough to live, because of a fancy that angels have very poor appetites; she gave up the sweet smile which she had preserved with so much care, and looked serious, and even sad. And the foolish girl made it an excuse for not doing her share of the household work, that she could not go to heaven with the stains of labor on her hands.
"What more can he require of me?" thought Maud. "Let him but say, and I will do any thing to serve this greatest of all the angels—will die—will be his slave!"
In the twilight, Maud saw, all at once, beside her a being more beautiful than she had even thought her Christ. He was thin and pale; he looked tired, and there were drops of blood on his forehead and tears in his eyes.
Yet was there something noble and good about him, that seemed grander than all the beauty of this earth, and melted the heart of the haughty Maud; so that she asked him to come to her cabin for food, and promised to make the old dame give him clothes.
He shook his head, and answered, "I have come to you before, naked, and hungry, and tired, and sad; but you drove me away."
"O, no, you are mistaken," said Maud; "I never saw you in my life before."
"When you refused food and shelter to the poor, old, and wretched, you were starving and freezing me."
"How could I know that?" said Maud, a little peevishly. "But, come, take my hand, and I will lead you where there is shelter and food."
He drew back from the hand she offered. "I cannot touch these fingers; wicked words are written over them."
"No such thing!" said Maud, thoroughly vexed. "There is not a man at the fair but would be proud to take my hand. Read the wicked words, if you can."
"Waste, weakness, indolence, selfishness, scorn, vanity," he read, as if the hand were a book spread out before him.
And then the beautiful being disappeared; and Maud, never dreaming that she had spoken with Christ, and hearing her sister's voice not far behind, hurried on quickly, so as to be in the cabin first.