Of course he was forgiven, and kissed, and petted, and made to swear secrecy, before he was sent away. And the boy actually kept his word.
Two hours later, as Bess was following Mr. Muir to the door, the young man said, laughing,—
"I'll tell you what it is, Bessie. Rob has had so large a share in helping this along, that, when the day comes, he shall be best man,—and Fuzz shall sing the march."
CHAPTER XVIII.
"THE VICTOR'S CROWN OF GOLD."
The Old Year was dying fast. It had wrapped itself in a soft white mantle of snow, and was quietly waiting until the midnight bells should announce the coming of the young New Year, laden under its mysterious burden of joy and sadness, pain and pleasure, hope and its fulfilment or its disappointment, that, day by day, it would unfold before the busy world.
But although the New Year was anxiously awaited by many a soul, the old one, now dying, had been a good friend to them all, and especially to the little group now chatting in the Carters' library.
As Bess looked about among her boys, from Ted and Bert, now taller than herself, who sat at her either hand, to Rob, who stood leaning on the back of her chair, and then to Phil, who was perched on the large table that filled the middle of the room, she could see many a pleasant mark that the year had left on them. And even Sam. Hard as the separation had been for those who were left behind, the boy was so safe and happy, safe from the many temptations that follow our boys through their lives, strengthening many a one, it is true, but all too often overpowering and destroying some fine, manly lad, who yet lacks just the courage to speak the one decided word that shall leave him the victor in the fight. Yes, Sam had gained in the past year, although it had been a sad lesson for the other boys, whose careless fun had brought the loss to them.
And Fred? It was with a feeling of unmixed pride and pleasure that Bessie surveyed the bonnie boy who was sitting opposite her, with Fuzz on his knee. His figure and features were the same they had been on that rainy November afternoon, a little over a year ago; but that was all. In place of the pale, listless, sad boy that had greeted her then, there sat an energetic, rosy, happy lad, whose whole face was laughing at the frolic into which he had entered as heartily as any of the other lads, a little gentler than the rest, perhaps, but as full of fun and mischief as ever a boy could be.
"Yes," thought Bess, as she watched him, "Sam made the one grand sacrifice that the world admires and talks of; but Fred's sacrifice is a longer and harder one, even, than his, the constant fighting to forget himself and his blindness, in trying to help make life pleasanter to the rest of us. He is winning his 'victor's crown of gold' most nobly and truly."