Drying her tears, however, she proceeded: “In the letter he expressed his gratitude at having it in his power to minister ‘to the necessities of saints,’ his delight at having his method of treatment tried so completely, and”—here she halted; then after a moment’s pause said, “Well, I’m quoting,—and with such nursing. He added that as he had promised to refer to the fee, he would say that he would be more than repaid by Mr. Barrie’s recovery, as it would fortify him in adopting the treatment generally, and announcing it to the profession. Mr. Barrie had meantime got ‘the turn.’ I snatched a few minutes to reply to the professor’s letter. It was written with a full heart, but a shaking hand. I fear my letter was but a sorry production; but,” she said firmly, and with a beaming eye, “the professor’s letter is lying in my mother’s Bible, beside my marriage lines and little Nellie’s hair. It is not exactly as he sent it; there are not only the crumpled spots where my tears fell, but under his signature I wrote, before putting it amongst my treasures, ‘the Good Samaritan.’ Mr. Barrie wonders why I did not rather write the ‘Beloved Physician;’ that would have done very well, but I like ‘the Good Samaritan’ better; and now that I think of it, I will get it out to-morrow, and Mr. Barrie can add ‘the Beloved Physician’ himself.”
She did not tell then, but I heard from the “carrier,” that the basket in which the cordials were sent was first well washed and bleached by Bell, then filled with the best her hen-roost, and dairy, and garden could afford, and sent to the physician without any address,—Bell herself having charged the carrier “just to hand it in an’ come away,—no’ to say where it cam’ frae.”
Mrs. Barrie did not confine herself merely to matters of thrift and housekeeping, but dwelt on the higher feelings of our nature, the social sympathies, and the ties and joys of home and kindred. But I could not do justice to the fine taste with which she described or enforced these.
Mr. Barrie occasionally joined in the conversation; but he was interjectional, and more impressive from his tone, the expression of his countenance, and his slight gestures, than from the words he used. When the soiled dress was spoken of, he said with a smile, “Birniepark,”—referring to an awkward servant having spilt a sauceboat full of gravy on Mrs. Barrie’s wedding dress. When “breakage” was mentioned, he said, “Janet,”—recalling an officious, brisk young lady, who, at one of the annual tea meetings of the Sabbath-school teachers in the manse, had seized the tray with great bounce, to help away with the tea-things, and had literally succeeded, as in crossing the lobby she stumbled, and every dish was broken. When the physician’s letter was referred to, he merely said, “Ebenezer,—Epaphroditus,—Onesiphorus.”
Mrs. Barrie finished by giving a few simple rules which she had herself tried to carry out: “Never buy anything you do not need; look twice at a cheap bargain; use the least of everything, lose the least of everything, and make the most of everything; save all you can, use all you can, and be sure and give all you can. So much for the housekeeping; but be as careful of your heart as of your purse, and be kindly affectioned one towards another, in honour preferring one another.”
DILEMMAS.
Mr. Barrie summed up with: “In fact, be judeecious. Practise economy, not parsimony; use the world as not abusing it; owe no man anything but to love one another,—a debt that can never be fully discharged. Love begets love.”
Glancing at the timepiece, I saw that the hour was rather later than I imagined; and having risen, I was thanking Mrs. Barrie for her hearty counsel, and had added that I hoped she would call at Greenknowe before the marriage, and be as kind to Agnes as she had been to me. I saw by Mrs. Barrie’s eye that she had me again.
“I suppose,” said she with great glee, “you will not wish me to call on you both after you are married! I quite expected you to invite me; but Agnes will be calling to say good-bye.”
“What!” said I; “good-bye? She’s not going so far away.”