CHAPTER XXVII.
Doing and Getting Good—Wycoff's Reform.
he day was mild and spring-like, and Daddy had not been long gone, when the snow began to yield to the soft touches of the sun's bright rays.
Fanny stood by the window and sighed, and wished audibly that the sun would "put on a veil."
The wish and manner so entirely foreign to the child's naturally cheerful and contented disposition attracted Little Wolf's attention.
"Why Fanny, do you complain of this lovely day?" she said, in surprise.
"O no, Miss DeWolf, but I was afraid the snow would all melt away before my sled was mended, and I love so much to be out of doors coasting."
"How would you like to take a walk with me?" said Little Wolf, willing to amuse the child, for whom she had already conceived a warm affection.
"O I would like it ever so much," said Fanny, joyfully.
"Now where shall we go, Fanny?" said Little Wolf, as they started out.
"Why, I don't know," said Fanny hesitatingly; "when mamma used to take me out, she said we must go somewhere where we could do good. Sometimes we went over to old Mrs. Peters'; she is sick all the time, and has no one to help her except her grandson, Charley. Mamma used to make her bed, and read the bible and pray with her, and comfort her all she could. Poor mamma often wished she could carry her something nice to eat, but we hadn't hardly anything to eat ourselves. May be you wouldn't like to go there, though?" said Fanny, doubtfully.
Little Wolf hesitated.
"She used to know your mamma," said Fanny, "and she said that Mrs. DeWolf was one of the kindest friends she ever had."
"We will go there, Fanny," said Little Wolf decidedly
Their way lay over the very hill where occurred their disastrous collision with Mr. Wycoff; about half a mile from the foot of which, on a cross road, lived Mrs. Peters. Fanny ran joyously on before, occasionally turning back to call Little Wolf's attention to a squirrel, or a bird, never dreaming that her companion was less interested than herself. In this way they reached the top of the hill, and began the descent, when suddenly Fanny began to look grave and loiter beside Little Wolf. At length she spoke in a subdued whisper, "There lies poor Fleet Foot, Miss DeWolf; he will never breathe again."
Little Wolf sank upon a rock by the wayside, and hid her face in her hands. She thought and said aloud, "O, why was I spared to be so wretched?"
Fanny burst into a flood of tears. "What would have become of me if you had been killed?" she sobbed.
Surprised at this demonstration of affection, Little Wolf looked up and drew Fanny towards her. The child's words, she knew not why, had consoled and strengthened her. "Fanny," said she, "everybody must have something to live for, and I have you"
"O yes, mamma used to say we must all live to do good," said Fanny, brightening.
Little Wolf rose and struggled bravely to choke down her rising feelings, for just then she was comparing the bright voyage of life, which she had so lately pictured for herself, with the dark and stormy reality. At that moment, when she would have scorned to indulge in pusillanimous grief, her noble spirit recognized and bowed in willing obedience to the sublime principle involved in Fanny's life-inspiring words.
"Well, Fanny," she replied, "if I do live, I hope it will not be in vain. I'm afraid I've been very wicked and selfish all my life."
"O, Miss DeWolf I'm sure you are the bestest, preciousest woman next to my mother, that I ever saw in all my life."
Fanny made this declaration with the air and assurance of one whose years had embraced a century; but at that moment, an object met her eye, which reminded her that she was but a helpless child. "O, there is Mr. Wycoff!" she exclaimed suddenly, as the rough farmer was seen coming up the hill.
Fanny trembled violently, for she feared this man. But Little Wolf, constitutionally brave, in her present state of mind feared nothing, composedly seated herself again upon the rock.
The farmer advanced slowly, and recognized Little Wolf with a bow, and reassured Fanny with a cordial "How are you, Fanny?" Then, as he observed traces of tears on Fanny's cheek, and Little Wolf's sad look and mourning dress, he stopped short. "Now Miss DeWolf," said he, bluntly, "I may as well say it first as last, I did not mean to run over you that day, but I had been drinking, and did not know what I was about. Whatever you say is right, I will pay you, for I have felt mean about it ever since; 'specially as you haven't made any fuss about it."
Little Wolf appeared noble indeed, as she feelingly replied, "Mr. Wycoff, I would cheerfully make the same sacrifice again, if by that means I could persuade you never to taste another drop of intoxicating drink."
"O, I cannot agree to that," said Wycoff, "but I shall do the fair thing by you, for you have acted like a lady."
Then Little Wolf, with a sudden impulse, arose and stepped forward, and began to plead earnestly and eloquently with the man to give up the use of the intoxicating cup. Nor did she plead in vain. The strong man at length yielded to her persuasions; persuasions around which hung the fragrance of the bruised heart, from which they emanated; touching, irresistible.
Inspirational hours are often the fruit of anguish unutterable. The suffering soul begins unconsciously to feel upward, and, at the propitious moment, heaven appoints its work. Thus Little Wolf received her mission, which, with characteristic energy she delayed not to fulfil.
His word having been pledged to total abstinence, Wycoff turned back towards home.
"I was only going to the brewery to meet a few friends," he said, "and if I don't drink with them I may as well keep away."
He walked along with Little Wolf and Fanny as far as the cross road, and when they parted, again renewed his vow right heartily. "Never fear, Miss DeWolf," he said, "I shall never taste another drop of liquor, so help me Almighty God."
"There, now we are certain, ain't we, Miss DeWolf? for he asked God to help him. O, I'm so glad, I'm so glad you have lived to do good," said Fanny, as the farmer passed on.
Fanny was exuberant. Her little heart overflowed, and, at intervals during the remainder of their walk, "I'm so glad, I'm so glad," rang out on the still air in sweet, childish accents, mingling with the songs of spring birds, and echoing through the lonely woods.
Arrived at the cottage, they met a warm welcome from Mrs. Peters. For many years, widowed and bed ridden, she had lingered in pain and poverty. Her grandson Charley, a bright, active youth, orphaned at an early age, had, since the death of his mother, been her constant companion and faithful nurse.
He was her pride and her delight, and she in turn shared his warmest affections. It was beautiful indeed to see the noble-hearted boy yielding all his young strength in providing for her wants. His small earnings at wood cutting, combined with the charity of a few kind hearted neighbors, had during the winter, kept them from absolute want. No wonder, then, that the ambitious youth, anxious to escape the pinches of poverty, was eager to accept a situation in Hank Glutter's saloon, that morning liberally offered by the proprietor in person. No wonder that, grieved and disheartened by the opposition of his grandmother, he met Little Wolf and Fanny, (who had interrupted their discussion of the matter), with a downcast countenance.
Conscious that his manner had been observed, the old lady hastened to apologize, "My Charley is feeling quite badly just now," she said. "Mr. Glutter called here this morning on the way to one of our neighbors, and offered him a clerkship. He will call soon for his answer, and I was just telling Charley that I was unwilling to have him go where he would be exposed to so many temptations."
"Grandmother needs the money," said Charley, "and it is for her sake I want to go. She needn't be afraid of my getting bad habits."
"Well, Charley, we will talk about it again bye and bye," said the old lady, soothingly.
"But there's Mr. Glutter, now, grandma," said the boy springing to the door, "do let me tell him that I will go, do grandma," he begged with painful earnestness.
"Do as your grandma think's best, and you will not be sorry," said Little Wolf in an undertone as Hank approached the door.
"Well, my man," said Hank with great assurance.
"I must do as grandma says," and Charley threw the door wide open.
At sight of Mrs. Peters' visitors, Hank gave a start of surprise, but quickly recovering himself, he bestowed upon each a gentlemanly greeting, and without futher ceremony, plunged into the business upon which he had come.
"Well, Mrs. Peters, have you decided to accept my offer?"
"You are very kind and generous, Mr. Glutter, and I thank you," said the old lady, anxious to soften her refusal; but too honest to give any except the true reason, she continued, "the truth is, I do not like to have Charley go where the influence will be so unfavorable to his becoming a good, sober man."
Had she studied to make it so, Mrs. Peters' guileless reply could not have been more inflammatory to Hank's temper, for, like others of his class, he was peculiarly sensitive to any reflection cast upon his business. His eyes flashed, and his lip curled scornfully, but having in mind Little Wolf's presence, he responded smoothly enough, "Very well, Mrs. Peters. Good morning; good morning, ladies," and bowed himself out of the room.
Mrs. Peters drew a sigh of relief, but poor Charley, after struggling a moment for composure, left the apartment with quivering lip, and Little Wolf soon caught a view of him through the window, wiping his eyes with his coat sleeve.
"Poor dear Charley," said his grandmother, "it comes hard on him now, but, God willing, I hope he will live to thank me for it."
Little Wolf rose hastily. "I must go out and have a little talk with Charley," she said.
"She is just like her father," said Mrs. Peters, as Little Wolf flitted from the room, "when he first came to Chimney Rock he was a princely looking man.
"O, she is the beautifulest lady I ever saw," was Fanny's enthusiastic rejoinder.
"I have understood that she is very gay and fashionable since she came from boarding school."
Fanny was at first rather doubtful as to what construction to put upon the reports which had reached the ears of the old lady, and she hesitated to endorse anything of the nature of which she was not quite clear; but she finally compromised the matter by saying, "if it is very good to be gay and fashionable, then she is, for she is nothing else but good."
"Well, if she is only a humble, devoted Christian like her mother, I shall be satisfied," sighed Mrs. Peters.
Fanny had by this time come to the conclusion that gay and fashionable was only another name for superior goodness, and she answered accordingly. "Why, Mrs. Peters, she is really a very gay, humble, fashionable, devoted Christion. She is gooder than her mother, for she never took me away from bad people as she did."
Not deeming it worth while to enter into any troublesome explanations, Mrs. Peters determined to suit her language to the child's comprehension, said simply, "Well, I hope she loves God, and will teach you to love him too."
"O, she does love God, Mrs. Peters. I heard her speak to him ever so many times last night, and I was teached to love him before she had me," said Fanny very seriously.
At this instant the object of their conversation made her appearance followed by Charley, whose countenance exhibited quite a different aspect from that which it had worn a short time previously.
Little Wolf had successfully held the cup of consolation to him in the form of a present and a promise, and she was now about to take her leave, but Mrs. Peters detained her. Never came one into her presence that she allowed to depart without first satisfying herself as to whether, as she expressed it, they had "got religion."
Now, it was her belief that pure and undefiled religion before God is this: "To visit the widow and fatherless in their affliction, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world." An intimate acquaintance with the book in which these sentiments are to be found, had quickened her perceptions as to their true meaning, and, as by that standard she gave judgment, it was not easy to deceive her.
Highly as Little Wolf had risen in her esteem, and highly as Fanny had eulogized the piety of her young benefactress, there yet remained a doubt in the old lady's mind as to the entire soundness of her religious principles. A straightforward question while she still held Little Wolf's hand in her parting grasp, "Dear child, I know you visit the widow and fatherless in their affliction, but do you keep yourself unspotted from the world?"
The innocent rejoinder, "I do not quite know what that means, 'to keep yourself unspotted from the world,'" resolved her doubts.
"Well, dear child, read your Bible carefully and you will find out all about it," exhorted Mrs. Peters, "I might give you my opinion, but it is better to get your ideas fresh from the fountain head. You will find that those spotless robes hang very high, but not beyond the reach of the arms of faith."
Our heroine went away deeply pondering the words of her newly found friend.
