Frederica and her Guardians; Or, The Perils of Orphanhood

by Margaret M. Robertson

Mr St. Cyr stayed at Eastwood till the summer days began to grow short, and then he went away, not to Canada, but to some mild climate, for another winter, till his health should be more firmly re-established. It was quite as well, for the peace of mind of the young people, that he should have so decided; for they might have longed to return with him, had he been going home.

If I were to carry my story over the next three years, I should have little more to say than this: they were happy and profitable years for them all. Selina learned all that Frederica could teach her, and some things besides. Sometimes they were in London, and at Christmas times and during the summer they were at beautiful Eastwood. They went through some of the prettiest parts of England with their brothers, to their great delight; and after a time their travels extended beyond England. They saw just what other travellers see, and enjoyed it more than most travellers do, being young and full of life, with no weight of care pressing upon them.

And after their travels were over they began seriously to consider and plan what their life-work was to be, and on which side of the sea it was to be done. Selina still spoke of the blind old people and little children whom she would like to gather into their old home, to care for and to teach. But her plans went farther than these now.

“For surely,” said she, “if we were to tell our people about Jesus and all He has done for them, they would turn to Him rather than to those who bid them look to Mary and the Saints in time of need. It is because they do not know Him that they look to be saved in some other way, and I would like to teach them. It is at home that we ought to be, Miss Agnace, is it not?”

But Miss Agnace had little to say, knowing better than they all that would make it impossible for these young girls to influence directly any one among a people so docile in the hands of their spiritual guides.

“God will prepare your work for you,” said Miss Agnace gravely. “It matters little where it is, so that it is done for Him. We must wait and see.”

Selina’s work came to her in an unexpected way, but by a sure token she knew it to be God-given work when it came. It was no new work. Ever since the happy Christmas-time when the blind girl went softly about the great house at Eastwood, and sat in the sunshine in Grandmamma Bentham’s garden, she had been doing a good work for Everard Bentham. Her influence was exerted quite unconsciously. She did not know how much every gentle word of hers meant to him, how dear she became to him day by day. But when he left his father’s house after that time, it was with a new resolve for the future—to the living of a new life, to a new end. Three years of earnest devotion to the duties of his profession, and to the still higher duties of a Christian gentleman, had placed him on different ground from that which he had occupied in the days when his father had suffered deep anxiety with regard to him. Edgar Vane had always loved him, now he respected and trusted him; and when he found courage to ask Selina to become his wife, neither her guardian nor her brother said him nay. Selina had no doubt then on which side of the sea her work was to lie.

All their friends were surprised when it came to be known that Captain Clare had persuaded Frederica to share a soldier’s fortunes as his wife. Not that it needed much persuasion. For though he was older and graver than she, one who might be thought little likely to take a young girl’s fancy, Frederica knew his worth, and had long loved him, first as her brother’s friend, and then as her own. Her husband took her to Canada for a time, where his regiment was stationed, and Tessie accompanied them. Selina and her husband also went with them for a summer holiday.

And so Selina saw her old home, as Edgar had foretold. It was she who, through the lifting morning mists, first caught sight of the city roofs and the cathedral towers, and the mountain beyond, beautiful with the level light of the sunrise on them. She saw her old home, and the two graves, and the faces of some people who had only been as names to her in the old days. She saw her home, and for a time she wished she had not seen it, but that she had allowed it still to stand in her memory as the sweetest and loveliest spot on earth, made beautiful in her thought by the remembrance of her mother and of all they had been to each other there.

For the old home was changed. The great warehouses pressed closer and closer upon it. The garden had been encroached upon, and the shadows of great chimneys and workshops darkened the lawn. It was very little like the home she had been remembering so lovely all these years. It was little like home to many of them now.