The Inglises; Or, How the Way Opened

by Margaret M. Robertson

“A little sooner than we would have chosen for our own sakes, Davie, but not too soon for him, or for his Master.”

A great deal more she said to him of the life that lay before him, and how he might help her and his brothers and sisters. Then she spoke of his work for Christ, and of his preparation for it, and how hopeful—nay, how sure she was, that happy and useful days were before him—all the more happy and useful because of the sorrow he had been passing through. “As one whom his mother comforteth,” came into David’s mind as he listened.

“And it is I who ought to be comforting you, mamma. I know I am all wrong—” said he, with tears.

“We will comfort one another. And indeed, it is my best comfort to comfort you. And, Davie, my love, we will begin anew.”

There was more said after that—of the work that lay ready at his hand, of how he was to take out his books again, lest he should fall back on his studies, and do discredit to his father’s teaching, and of how he was to help his brothers and sisters, especially Violet and Jem.

“Only, mamma, I think they have been getting on very well without me all this time,” said Davie, ruefully.

“Not so well as they will with you, however,” said his mother. “Everything will go better now.”

Everything did go better after that with David. His troubles were not over. His books gave him pain rather than pleasure, for a while, and it needed a struggle for him to interest himself in the plans and pursuits of Jem, and even of Violet. But he did not grow moody over his failures, and by and by there came to be some good in life to him again, and his mother’s heart was set at rest about him, for she began to hope that it was well with David in the best sense now.

During the first summer they saw very little of the Oswalds. They lived quite at the other end of the town, in a house very different from the “bridge house,” as their cottage was called, and for the greater part of the summer, the young people of the family had been away from home. But in the autumn it was so arranged that Violet at least, was to see a great deal of some of them. Mr Oswald had six children, four daughters and two sons. His eldest daughter Ame had been mistress of the house since her return from school, at the time of her mother’s death. This had happened several years ago. She was twenty-four years of age, very clever and fond of society. She was engaged to be married, but she did not intend to leave home immediately, from which indeed she could not easily have been spared. They had much company always, and she had a great deal to do in entertaining them, and led a very busy and, as she thought, a very useful life in her father’s house.

The next in age was Philip, but he was not at home. He was in his last year at M— University, and was to be home in the Spring. Selina came next. She was one year younger than Violet, and would fain have considered herself a grown-up young lady, and her education finished, if her father and sister had agreed. Then came Frank, who was not very strong, and whose eyes were still weak, and then Charlotte and Sarah, girls of ten and twelve. It was to teach these two that Violet was to go to Mr Oswald’s house.