I had no inclination to withhold the forgiveness so humbly sought. I shook hands warmly, with both the boys, saying, "I forgive you with all my heart, let us be friends. I am proved innocent, and am too happy to cherish anger towards any one." When order was again restored Mr. Oswald made some instructive and useful remarks upon the folly and sin of harboring a feeling of envy and ill-will toward others. "I advise you," said he, "when you detect a feeling of envy and malice rising in your heart, to remember the sin and wrong, to which the indulgence of this feeling led these two boys, and pray to your Heavenly Father to preserve you from a bitter and envious spirit. We will talk no more of the unhappy affair at present; it is my wish that each one of you treat Reuben and Thomas the same in every respect as though this circumstance had never taken place. I intend retaining them still as my pupils, and they must be treated as such by you all. I trust this lesson will not be lost upon any, for it speaks loudly of the necessity of guarding our own hearts from evil, and it also teaches us how to exercise a spirit of forbearance and forgiveness, and now we must proceed to the work of the day."
It is, somewhat singular that evil designs against one, either old or young, often, instead of working harm, prove the means of their advancement and promotion. It was so in this case. I did not forgive these two boys without a struggle with my own temper and pride, but I did do it, and it came from my heart, and this forgiveness accorded by me, as well as the thought of what I had suffered, caused me to stand higher than ever in the good opinion of my teachers, and the kindness extended to me on all sides more than repaid my past suffering, when moving under a cloud of suspicion and disgrace. Had I allowed a feeling of revenge to find a place in my heart it might have been gratified by the mortification of Reuben and Thomas, but I tried to rise superior to this feeling, and endeavoured, by repeated acts of kindness, to convince them that my forgiveness was genuine. When I returned home that day at noon Grandma Adams said she knew by the joyous bound with which I entered the house I was the bearer of good news; and when I had told my story, they were all happy to know that the dark shadow which had rested over me was lifted, and my sky was again bright. Grandma listened attentively while I told of the guilty ones being detected, and my own innocence made clear as the light of day. When I had finished she called me to her side and said, "I hope, my boy, you remember the verses I repeated to you the other evening from the thirty-seventh Psalm. That whole Psalm has been a favourite one with me all my life-long; when weighed down by trouble and anxiety during my long and eventful life, I have often derived consolation and encouragement from that beautiful portion of the Bible; and I have often thought if there is one portion of that Book more blessed and cheering than another it must be the thirty-seventh Psalm. If you live to my age, Walter, you have yet a long journey before you, and when the troubles of life disturb your mind—as doubtless they often will—when trials beset you and the way looks dark, remember that old Grandma Adams told you to turn to this Psalm; read it carefully, and you will be sure to find something which will cheer and support you." I looked with a feeling of deep veneration upon my aged relative, indeed I could not have helped it, as she sat in her arm-chair, with her mild and pleasant countenance, her hair of silvery whiteness smoothly parted beneath the widow's cap, and as I listened to the words of pious hope and trust which fell from her lips, I felt that I had never before sufficiently valued her counsels and advice, and I resolved that for the future I would endeavour to be doubly attentive and respectful to this aged and feeble relative, who was evidently drawing near the close of her life-journey.
CHAPTER XV.
Time, with his noiseless step, glided on, till but a few weeks remained before the school would break up for the midsummer vacation. Happy as I was at Uncle Nathan's, I looked eagerly forward to the holidays, for I was then to pay a visit of several weeks to my home at Elmwood, having been absent nearly a year, and, as this time drew nigh, every day seemed like a week till I could set out on the journey. Added to the joy of again meeting my mother and sister, I would also meet Charley Gray, who was also to spend his vacation at home. We had kept up a regular correspondence during the past year. I could always judge of Charley's mood by the tone of his letters. Sometimes he would write a long and interesting letter, in such a glowing, playful style, that I would read it over half-a-dozen times at the least, and perhaps his very next letter would be just the reverse, short, cold and desponding. Any one who knew Charley as I did could easily tell the state of mind he was in when he wrote, but so well did I know the unhappy moods to which he was subject, that a desponding letter now and then gave me no surprise. In fact, had the style of his letters been uniformly gay and lively, I should have been more surprised, so well did I understand his variable temper. But we both looked forward to our anticipated meeting with all the eagerness and impatience of youthful expectation. For, as I said near the opening of my story, I loved Charley as a brother, and so agreeable and pleasant was his disposition when he was pleased, you quite forgot for the time being the unhappy tempers to which he was subject.
There is ever a feeling of sadness connected with the closing of school. Owing to the excellence of the institution, there were pupils attending Fulton Academy from many distant places. But with the coming of the holidays this youthful band, who had daily assembled at the pleasant old Academy would be scattered far and wide. Probably never all to meet again on earth. Many of the youths who had studied a sufficient time to obtain a business education were the coming autumn to go forth to make their own way in the world. The only intimate friend I had made among these was a youth whose home was two hundred miles distant from Fulton; his name was Robert Dalton, and he had studied at Fulton Academy for the past three years, and, having obtained an education which fitted him for the business he intended to follow, he expected to return to Fulton no more. His father was a merchant in one of the cities of the Upper Province, and in the fall Robert was to enter the store, in order to obtain a practical knowledge of business, as his tastes also led him to mercantile pursuits. When I entered the school, a stranger to all, Robert Dalton was the first youth who bestowed kind attentions upon me, and we soon became firm friends; together we studied and mutually assisted each other, and always shared in the same sports and recreations. I could not help sometimes thinking it was well that Charley Gray was attending another institution, for I felt certain (were he there) that the friendship existing between myself and Robert would irritate his fiery and jealous nature beyond measure. Poor Charley, it was a pity that he possessed that unhappy temper; for there was much suffering in store for himself and others arising from this source. Much had he yet to endure before that jealous, exclusive spirit would be brought under subjection. During the summer evenings a ramble to "Beechwood" had been a favourite recreation with Robert and I, and thither we took our way the last evening we expected to spend together at Fulton. We lingered long there that evening, and, seated upon a mossy rock beneath the shade of those old trees, we talked of our coming separation, as well us of our individual plans for the future, till the gathering darkness hastened our departure. The next morning we parted, each to meet the friends who were looking for us with the anxious eyes of love.
I knew not how much I had learned to love my kind relatives till the time drew nigh when I was to bid them adieu for a season. The day before I was to start for home, Aunt Lucinda made a most unexpected announcement, which was no less than she had made up her mind to accompany me to Elmwood. She had never before visited my mother since her marriage, and she thought she might not again have so good an opportunity of visiting the sister whom she had not seen for so many years. My aunt and I were by this time the best of friends, and I was pleased when she declared her intention to accompany me to my home. It did not matter to me that my aunt was odd and old-fashioned in her dress, and still more odd and eccentric in her manner and conversation, to me she was the kind aunt who had cared for my wants, and treated me as kindly as a mother could have done, and to one of my nature this was sufficient to claim my affection and respect. This journey was quite an event in the usually quiet and stay-at-home life of my aunt, but she allowed that having made up her mind she had but one life to live, she might as well enjoy herself sometimes as other folks. Grandma Adams fairly wept when I bade her good-bye, saying: "who will read to me while you are gone, Walter? and it may be when you come back you will find the old arm-chair empty. No one is certain of a day of life but remember the saying 'the young may die, but the old must die.' I hope to see you again, but should I not, strive to become a good and useful man, and remember my counsels." Uncle Nathan shook me warmly by the hand, and hoped to see me return soon, telling me also, with a comical look, to take good care of Aunt Lucinda on the journey, as she was young and inexperienced, and not accustomed to travelling. "Nathan Adams," replied my aunt, "if you must talk, do try sometimes and talk with a little sense."
I was fearful of missing the train, so long was my aunt in giving directions to the Widow Green, who had come to keep house during her absence. Grandma allowed that though the widow might not understand all the ways of the house, with her help they could get along tolerably well for a few weeks. "Never fear, mother," said Uncle Nathan. "There'll be no one to scold while Lucinda's away, and we'll get along famously. Only I suppose we will be called to a startling account when the rightful mistress of the house returns." We soon took our places in the carriage which awaited us, and, taking his place on the front seat, Uncle Nathan started the impatient horse into a swift trot toward Fulton, where we were to meet the train which was to bear us to Elmwood.