Katherine's Sheaves Part 40

"Tell Jennie to go directly to the seminary and remain with the matron and maids, who will be there next Monday to begin to put the house in order," she had said. "And--as she knows where everything belongs--if she will oversee our rooms put to rights I shall feel that I need not hurry back."

So, with a happy heart, Katherine wrote immediately to her protegee a loving, tender letter, which also contained sympathetic messages from all her other friends. Then, with great tact, she unfolded her own plans and wishes regarding her future, and in conclusion said:

"Jennie, dear, never again say that you are a 'stray waif,' for nothing ever goes astray in G.o.d's universe. Your 'ident.i.ty' is not 'lost,' for you are G.o.d's child, and that child can never be deprived of her birthright, nor of any good thing necessary to her happiness or well-being. Neither have you 'been deprived of your only friend,' nor has she been swept beyond the focus of your love, or you of hers. The bond that existed between you can never be broken, for it was, and still is, the reflection of divine Love that is omnipresent. I am looking forward to our reunion, and shall think of you often as the days slip by.

"With dear love, KATHERINE MINTURN."

The response which Katherine received to the above letter drew tears from her eyes, for Jennie's full heart overflowed most touchingly, showing a depth of grateful appreciation that did her much credit.

While still grieving for her "dear auntie," she could not restrain her joy, in view of the great boon of going back to school, and wrote of it:

"I did not think anything could make me so happy again, and I can never tell you how I love you for it. I will improve every minute.

I will make you all proud of me. No one shall ever have cause to call me 'Wild Jennie' again, and when I graduate and get to teaching I shall pay you back every penny it has cost to fit me for it."

One evening, after dinner, the Minturns went, with some friends who were visiting them, to Katherine's favorite outlook, and, as they were pa.s.sing the Hunt cottage they saw Dr. Stanley on the porch and invited him to join them. The sun was just setting as they reached their point of observation, where the view, illuminated by the vivid crimson and gold in the western sky, was impressive and magnificent beyond description.

They lingered long, as if loath to leave the enchanting prospect; but, as the softer shades of twilight began to steal gently like a veil of gauze over the scene, they turned their faces homeward once more.

As she was on the point of following, Katherine found Dr. Stanley tarrying beside her.

"Will you wait a moment?" he inquired, in a low voice, which impressed her as sounding not quite natural.

She paused with an inquiring look, and he led her back towards the edge of the bluff.

"Miss Minturn, do you see a vessel far out at sea?" he asked.

"Yes, it is a--"

"Pardon me, please," he interposed; "it is a five-masted schooner, with sails all set, is it not?"

"Why, yes," she began, turning to him in surprise, to find him looking off at the vessel, his right eye covered with one hand.

For a moment she could not speak. Then her face grew luminous with a great joy as she realized what it meant.

"Oh!" she breathed, softly.

"Yes, I can see," he said. "The sight has been slowly coming during the last month, and I have dimly discerned things around me. Yesterday Mrs. Minturn made a startling statement regarding sight being 'spiritual perception'--that 'it is not dependent upon the physical eye, the optic nerves, etc., but upon Mind, the all- seeing G.o.d,' and I caught a glimpse of something I had not comprehended before. To-day I found I could read my 'Science and Health' clearly, with both eyes; but I have not spoken of it to anyone until now--'twas you who first a.s.sured me that such a boon could be conferred. Miss Minturn"--he removed his hat and bowed his head reverently--"all honor to the 'Science of sciences' and to her, the inspired messenger through whom it has been given to a needy world."

CHAPTER XXI.

THE TRAVELER RETURNS.

One evening Sadie was sitting by herself upon the veranda that overlooked the ocean, and where she was watching a glorious full moon which seemed to be rolling straight out of the glimmering sea into the cloudless vault above. It was unusual for her to be alone, but Mrs. Minturn had slipped away for a chat with Mrs.

Seabrook, and Katherine, at the invitation of Dr. Stanley, had gone for a walk to the library in search of an interesting book for Dorothy.

Sadie had changed much during her summer with her friends. She had grown more thoughtful, more self-poised, more orderly and systematic in her ways; while, it goes without saying, she had become deeply attached to every member of the family.

Just now she was absorbed in a mental discussion with herself regarding what would be the most acceptable and appropriate gift she could offer each one, to attest her appreciation of their united kindness and unrivaled hospitality in taking her so lovingly into their household for the long vacation.

Without having heard a step or a movement, without a suspicion that any living being was near, her name was suddenly p.r.o.nounced in familiar tones directly behind her.

"Sadie!"

She sprang to her feet and faced the intruder.

"Oh, Ned! Why have you come? Why cannot you let me alone?" she cried, in a startled tone.

"I have come to make you take back your ring," and he held out the box to her. "And I cannot 'leave you alone,' because--you know why, Sadie."

"No, I shall not take back the ring," she replied, waving it away, "and I wrote you that everything was at an end between us; that I would not be bound to you any longer."

"But you are bound--you have given me your promise."

"I have taken back that promise."

"Why?"

"Because--oh! for many reasons. I have my course to finish; I mean to put my best work into the coming year, and I will not be hampered in any such way," resolutely returned Sadie, who was fast recovering tier self-possession.

"No; it is because that preaching, sanctimonious Katherine Minturn has influenced you against me," hotly retorted her companion.

"Katherine Minturn is the dearest, loveliest, sweetest girl in the world, and I won't hear one word against her," said Sadie, in stout defense of her friend.

"Well, what are some of your other 'many reasons'?" demanded Mr.

Willard, and quickly retreating from what he saw was dangerous ground.

"I--reckon I'm under no obligation to give them," slowly returned the girl, after a moment of thought. "It is sufficient that I have decided to end everything. Now please let that settle it and don't try to see me again."

"Don't you care for me any more, Sadie? What have I done? What fault have you to find with me?"

"Have you no fault to find with yourself, Ned Willard? Are you satisfied with the life you are living?" gravely inquired Sadie, but ignoring his queries.

"But you would be the making of me, Sadie. Under your influence I could be anything--everything you could wish."

"Well, now--doesn't that strike you as rather a weak argument for a man to offer for himself?" returned his companion, lapsing into her Southern drawl which, of late, had not been so prominent; "to ask a girl to bind herself irrevocably to him for life and holding out as an inducement the privilege of reforming him?" and there was a note of scorn in the lazy tones that stung the man to sudden anger.

"I swear I will not be trifled with in any such way," he pa.s.sionately exclaimed. "You shall rue your words, Sadie Minot--"

"I reckon I'd better go in," she interrupted, and turned haughtily from him.

"You won't go in yet," he said, through tightly shut teeth, as he placed himself in her path. "I'll see if--"

At that instant voices were heard, and, turning, both saw Katherine, accompanied by Dr. Stanley, mounting the steps leading to the veranda.