"No; I think not. But how, Miss Mildred, how shall I come? I was not religiously brought up and am very ignorant on these subjects."
"'With the heart man believeth unto righteousness.' 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.'"
"But what am I to do?"
"Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him;' quoted Mildred, 'and to our God for he will abundantly pardon,' 'only believe;' for by grace are ye saved, through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any man should boast.'
"Do you not see that Christ has done it all, kept the law for us, borne its penalty in our stead, and now offers us the justification of our persons, the sanctification of our natures, and adoption into God's family all as a free gift, the purchase of his blood. We cannot merit it, we cannot buy it; it is 'without money and without price.' All we can do is to accept the offered salvation and forsaking every other hope and trust, lean wholly upon Jesus."
Miss Worth seemed lost in sad perplexing thought, while Mildred's heart went up in silent petition on her behalf.
"Tell it me again," she said at length with emotion; and Mildred tried to make a clearer statement than before.
"It is so simple and beautiful—God's plan of salvation—" Mildred said in conclusion, "only to give ourselves unreservedly to the Lord and trust wholly in him. Jesus said, 'This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.' And of his sheep, he says, 'I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand.'"
"Yes; but I want a friend now:—for this life: its cares, troubles, trials, perplexities. Does he promise that?" asked the governess, with a wistful, longing look.
"Oh, yes, yes indeed! in very many places," Mildred said. "'This poor man cried and the Lord heard him and saved him out of all his troubles.'
"'He shall deliver thee in six troubles; yea in seven there shall no evil touch thee.'
"'Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.'
"'Cast thy burden upon the Lord and he shall sustain thee.'
"'Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.'"
Again a few moments of profound silence, while Miss Worth seemed to be thinking deeply, then turning to Mildred, "I cannot express my sense of your kindness," she said, "and—" she paused, hesitated, but went on hurriedly, and with emotion, "I will seek this Friend of whom you have been speaking, for I sorely need such an one. But you," she continued with increasing emotion, "you have so generously offered your sympathy, yet refrained, with true delicacy, from showing the least curiosity in regard to my troubles. But it would be a relief to confide in you to some extent, if—if you would care to listen."
"I should be much interested and very glad to be of service," Mildred answered gently. "And I think I need not assure you that your confidence will be sacred."
"No; I am quite certain of that," returned Miss Worth; then went on to give a slight sketch of her past life; or rather of some parts of it; for she did not deem it necessary, or wise, to tell of all the trials which had fallen to her lot.
Her father, she said, had been in the early part of his career a very successful business man, and in her childhood and youth she was surrounded with luxury; but reverses came, loss followed loss, till they were reduced to absolute poverty. Then her father died and the burden of her mother's support, as well as her own and that of a younger sister, fell upon her.
There was an older sister who had been married for some years; but her husband was dissipated and worthless, and she had several little children to provide for as best she could. The mother and Delia, the young sister, lived with her, but Miss Worth paid their board, and clothed them.
The letter received to-day was from Mrs. Marks, the married one, and drew a sad picture of toil, privation, and bitter disappointment. Her children were sick, her husband came home drunk every night, to threaten and abuse her, and then the mother fretted continually over their reverses and her own ailments, fancied or real; and Delia was dissatisfied because she could not dress like other girls in the school she attended. The letter wound up with a request for a loan, and a hint that the sum paid for board of the mother and sister was too small. Also a little note was inclosed from Delia, asking, indeed almost demanding, money for the purchase of a new dress.
But of these Miss Worth said nothing.
Mildred was full of genuine sympathy, and showed it in a way that was very soothing and comforting.
Yet, after she was gone, the burden rolled back upon the heart of the poor, lonely governess. She sat long over the fire, hands clasped in her lap, head bowed upon her breast, vainly striving to solve the perplexing problem how she was to meet all the demands upon her slender purse.
Her disposition was noble and self sacrificing; she would have willingly denied herself all superfluities in dress that her mother might not miss her accustomed luxuries, Delia go without finery, or Mrs. Marks and her children be overworked or underfed; but it would not do; Mrs. Dinsmore's governess must be many removes from shabby in her attire.
Chapter Eleventh.
"Self is the medium least refined of all,
Through which Opinion's searching beam can fall;
And passing there, the clearest, steadiest ray,
Will tinge its light, and turn its line astray."
—Moore.
It was at the breakfast table the next morning that Mildred had her first sight of the new comers.
They were late in making their appearance, excusing themselves on the ground of fatigue from the journey of the previous day.
Juliet, the elder of the two, was an extremely sentimental young lady; tall and thin, with fair complexion, pale auburn hair, and faded blue eyes.
The other, Reba, a noisy, rattling, romping, pert young Miss, with staring black eyes, black hair, straight and coarse, and a muddy skin, which she strove with very limited success to conceal with toilet powder and rouge.
She prided herself on being a fast girl, a good shot with a pistol, and not afraid to mount the wildest horse that could be found.
Her talk was of horses and dogs, race courses and shooting matches; her sister's of beaux, parties and dress.
Juliet had a great deal to say about her summer at Saratoga, and the gentlemen she had met there, especially a certain titled foreigner, whom she spoke of as "that charming, fascinating Count De Lisle."
It came out in the course of the morning, that she had heard from him since her return home in the fall, and would not be surprised if he should follow her to Roselands.
