The Orphans of Glen Elder

by Margaret M. Robertson

And Mrs Stirling was right. Lilias was not changed. Prosperity did no unkind office for her. Those happy days developed in her no germ of selfishness. Still her first thought was for others, the first desire of her heart still was to know what was right, and to obtain grace and strength to do it. In some respects she might be changed, but in this she was the very same.

She grew taller and wore a brighter bloom on her cheeks, and she gradually outgrew the look that was older than her years; but she never lost the gentle gravity that had made her seem so different from the other children in the eyes of those who knew her in her time of many cares.

Nancy had not the same confidence in Archie. Not that she could find much fault with him; but he had never been so great a favourite with her as his sister, and his boyish indifference to her praise or blame did not, in her opinion, accord with the possession of much sense or discretion.

“And, Miss Lilias, my dear, it’s no’ good for a laddie like him to be made so much of,” said she. “The most of the lads that I have seen put first and cared for most have, in one way or another, turned out a disappointment. Either they turned wilful, and went their own way to no good; or they turned soft, and were a vexation. And it would be a grievous thing indeed if the staff on which you lean should be made a rod to correct you, my dear.”

But Lilias feared no disappointment in her brother.

“‘The law of the Lord is in his heart, none of his steps shall slide,’” she answered softly to Mrs Stirling; and even she confessed that surely he needed no other safeguard.

A great deal might be told of the happy days that followed at Glen Elder. Hugh Blair never went back to India again. He married—much to his mother’s joy—one whom he had loved, and who had loved him, in the old time, before evil counsels had beguiled him from his duty and driven him from his home,—one who had never forgotten him during all those sorrowful days of waiting. Their home was at a distance; but they were often at Glen Elder, and Mrs Blair’s declining days were overshadowed by no doubt as to the well-doing or the well-being of her son.

Archie went first to the high school, and then to college. The master was loth to part from his favourite pupil; but David Graham was going. It would be well, the master said, for Davie to get through the first year of the temptations while his brother John was there “to keep an eye on him;” and Davie’s best friends and warmest admirers could not but agree, and, though not even the doubting Nancy was afraid for Archie as his master was afraid for his more thoughtless friend, it was yet thought best that the friends should go together. Archie had some troubles in his school and college life, as who has not? but he had many pleasures. He gained honour to himself as a scholar, and, what was better, he was ever known as one who feared God and who sought before all things His honour.

Lilias passed her school-days with her friend Anne Graham, in the house of the kind Dr Gordon. It need not be said that they were happy, and that they greatly improved under the gentle and judicious guidance of Mrs Gordon, and that Lilias learnt to love her dearly.

And when their school-days were over, there followed a useful and happy life at home. The girls kept up their old friendship begun that day in the kirk-yard, with fewer ups and downs than generally characterise the friendships of girls of their age. Another than Lilias might have fancied Anne’s tone to be a little peremptory sometimes; but, if Miss Graham thought herself wiser than her friend in some things, she as fully believed in her friend’s superior goodness; and not one of all the little flock that Lilias used to rule and teach in the cottage by the common, long ago, deferred more to her than, in her heart, did Anne.