The Gift

The Gift BY ELSIE CHAMBERLAIN CARROLL There had been an unusual excitement in the Bates home all day, for Jack was to leave in the morning for college. This would be the first break in the home circle and every member of the fam- ily felt a twinge of that homesickness which will come on the eve of the departure of a loved one. It was early twilight now, and all the preparations for the journey were completed. The mother and Jack had just finished packing the heavy trunk which now stood locked and corded in the hall ready for the early call of the drayman. The two were in the house alone. Mr. Bates had not come from the office yet. The girls had gone on an errand and the younger boys were at a meeting of the Boy Scouts. Jack drew his mother's rocker up before the fire, for the early September day was chilly, and seated himself on a footstool beside her. The thought of the coming separation clutched at both of their hearts and retarded the usual flow of speech. The mother reached out and stroked the wavy, brown hair while she studied the strong young profile in the firelight. The boy took his moth- er's free hand and held it close in both of his. He was thinking how much he had depended on that hand to lead him in the past, and now he was going beyond its reach. They sat thus for sev- eral seconds. The mother was the first to speak. "There is one thing more that I want to say to you, my boy," then she paused. It was not an easy subject to broach. She had tried to do it several times before. Now she breathed a silent prayer that she might be able to say what was in her heart in a way that her boy would understand and remember. Her fingers continued to fondle the brown hair, and her eyes, full of yearning, tender mother-love, rested upon her first-born, now ready to fly from the home nest. Jack looked up and smiled re-assuringly. "What is it, mother?" "You will find things so different in the city," she began. "You will meet temptations that do not exist here. We have talked of most of them, and I feel sure you will have strength to resist." She paused a moment, then went on, choosing her words care- fully. "I have tried to teach you, Jack, that your being is a gift from your Heavenly Father and that you owe it to him to take care of your body and your soul and keep them pure like he gave them to you. Your father and I have helped to guide you in the

118 IMPROVEMENT ERA past. But you are a man now, and have a right to your own judg- ment. I wonder if you realize the great powers and possibilities which come to you with your manhood? If rightly used these powers will bring yon success and happiness; if abused, they will bring you destruction and misery. One of these powers is at- tended with special danger which as yet you have not realized. That is why I cannot let you go away without warning you about the temptations you may meet to abuse it. It is the God-given power to reproduce wonderful beings like yourself and it must be guarded as the most sacred part of your being if you would gain from it the blessings intended it should bring. You will find, I am afraid, a heart-sickening attitude toward this power. You will find it abused, perhaps, by men in whom you have placed your confidence. It is the curse of our age, this double standard. I beg of you, my boy, for the sake of your fu- ture, do not be influenced by any one or any circumstance, into regarding this power as anything less than a sacred gift from God. Some day you will choose a companion, a mother to the souls you will bring into existence. Keep your body and soul pure that you may give to her the same priceless gift you demand of her. In the sight of God there can be but one standard — the standard of absolute purity for both man and woman. "Eigtheen years ago, Jack, I gladly went down to the gates of death to give you life. Since that hour through all the years of service and sacrifice it is a mother's lot to give to her children, I have rejoiced in you as a blessing from God. If you would con- tinue to make me rejoice, my boy, you will, for the sake of your own future, remember what I am telling you now." Jack Bates looked up into his mother's face. All at once in that instant, the great, beautiful meaning of motherhood, with its pain and sacrifice and yearning love, came to him, and seemed to shine in a halo about the dear face of his own mother. A rever- ence for womanhood he had never known before sprang up in his breast. He bowed his forehead upon the toil-roughened hand he held in a new devotion. It was a supreme moment for them both. There was no need of words, the silence was full. A memory which was to prove a restraining hand in times of future weak- ness was being etched on a boy's soul. O, that every boy had such etchings in his time of need ! Just then the girls, Florence and Elizabeth, came singing up the path. Mrs. Bates leaned forward and kissed her son's forehead. She felt a long, trembling pressure from the hands that held her own, as Jack arose and turned on the lights. A moment later the father came in and the mother and daugh- ters prepared the evening meal. Soon the noisy, active scouts ap- peared and the family gathered around the table. The thought that this was the last time they would all sit at

THE GIFT 119 the table together for a long time cast a gloom that each tried to dispel. The father recalled a few more bits of advice for his son. The girls told him how they would miss him in their good times the coming winter, and his younger brothers lamented the fact that they could not go to college where a fellow could study just what he, pleased instead of being held down in the grades and made to do long division and write compositions. The mother said little, but the calm smile that glowed on her face gave more than its usual cheer. A gay whistle was heard coming up the path, followed by a knock on the door. "It's Dick," said Jack, pushing back his chair and going to the door. Dick Harrison was going to college with Jack. They had been chums all their lives, and Dick almost seemed like one of the family. He came in radiating his usual good humor. Mrs. Bates invited him to sit up to the table with them. "Gee, I'd like to, Mother Bates" (Dick had no mother of his own), but honest I can't stop a minute. I haven't started to pack my trunk yet. I just came to see if Jack had told Tuttle to call for my things, too." "Yes, everything's all fixed. He'll be around about six-thirty, but sit down and eat a few bites." "No, I can't, but I will take one of your mother's cinnamon buns. No telling when we'll taste things like that again. Be sure and put a few extra of these in Jack's lunch for me, Mrs. Bates," he laughed as he helped himself from the plate on the table. Jack's mother smilingly agreed not to forget. Her heart al- ways had a warm place for this motherless friend of her boy's and it was unusually tender tonight. Dick bade each member of the family good-bye. When he came to Mrs. Bates she put her arms about his neck and said : "You must be a good boy, Dick, and write to us often." "I'll try to be good," Dick laughed, "and I'll sure write. You'll have to get the letters I would have written to my own mother," he added, and there was a little choke in the gay voice. Mrs. Bates wiped a mist from her eyes. Dear, thoughtless, lovable Dick. He needed a real mother now as never before, but who can take the place of a real mother when it comes to etching the pictures on his soul which are to draw him back from the doors of life's temptations ! ******* It was Friday afternoon a couple of months after Jack Bates and Dick Harrison had left their country homes for college. The heavy grind of the first semester's work was on. It was a great change from the physically active life they had been used to on the farm, and often they felt a pressing need for relaxation.

120 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Gee !" exclaimed Dick, as he entered the room they occu- pied together and threw his books on the table. "I'd give ten dol- lars if I could forget my math and Latin for a few solid hours. This eternal digging gets on a fellow's nerves." "Well, I should say," agreed Jack, yawning and stretching as he shoved his trigonometry from him and leaned back in his chair. "Wouldn't a good old 'hoe-down' in Riverton go bully tonight after all the exams they've been boring us with for a week?" , "Well, you just bet it would. I believe I've almost forgotten how to have a good time. It almost makes me homesick to think of the jolly times they're having in old Riverton." Just then the supper bell rang and they went into the dining room. "Hello, Bates! How's the grind, Harrison?" greeted Wood- man, a junior who, besides others of the college men, lived at the Top Notch boarding house. He had treated them civilly always, but with the condescension usually doled out to freshmen by their upper classmen. The country boys both very naturally envied him and gladly accepted the mere crums of comardeship which so far he had deigned to bestow upon them. He always sat opposite them a\ the table, but he usually had a newspaper or a foot-ball schedule before him or else argued athletic problems with Palmer, a sophomore, who sat a little way down the line. Tonight he seemed unusually approachable and both of our friends felt their spirits rising as he continued an amiable conver- sation during the entire meal. They discussed professors, ath- letics and athletes and when they arose from the table Woodman remarked casually: "Good to have a Friday night occasionally, isn't it, to throw off the harness and forget the grind." Both boys assented and started for their room. "By the way, fellows, what are you going to do tonight?" Woodman asked, as they ascended the stairs together. "Oh, we hadn't thought of anything in particular," Dick re- plied, a little lamely. He wouldn't have this brilliant upper class- man know how really unsophisticated they were in the usual Fri- day night diversions. They had spent their weekends, up to date, in catching up in back work, writing home, and taking in an oc- casional picture show. "Good," exclaimed their new patron. "Come and take in th-> town with some of the rest of us. We always do Friday nights. There's nothing like it to forget yourself for a while. Usually Benner, Hawkins, Gurdey and myself make up our little crowd, but Benner and Hawkins are in Madison tonight helping to ar- range the intercollegiate football schedule, so Gurdey and I will

THE GIFT 121 whistle for you about eight o'clock," and Woodman disappeared into his room. "Well, what do you know about that !" exclaimed Dick with a vigorous slap on Jack's shoulder, as they entered their own room. "I can't think what's come over him to want to take us green freshies under his wing," said Jack, puzzled. "Why, he told us we were going second best, didn't he? But we should worry about that. It's something to be recognized by a junior or a senior at all. They're the fellows that run the earth around here. Oh, I tell you we'll get on now. This is our begin- ning. I wouldn't be surprised if we had a chance at one of the teams before spring. A few of these fellows like Woodman have the whole thing in their hands." A few minutes before eight there was a tap at the boys' door and Woodman called out, "Ready?" Jack and Dick joined him in the hall. "Do you fellows know Gurdey? This is Bates and Harrison, two good neighbors of mine." Gurdey, the good-looking senior, whom the boys had both openly admired since the second day of school, when he had been pointed out to them as one of the men of the college, shook hands cordially and they all walked down the street together. "What first?" asked Woodman, when they reached the center of town. "I understand there's a good show on at the Bijou," laughed Gurdey. "That might be a good place to begin." A few moments later Gurdey himself bought four tickets and they entered the gallery just as the curtain was rising on a chorus of under-dressed and over-painted girls. The dancing, the singing and the questionable jokes were applauded as heartily by Jack and Dick as by their companions, but they both felt a secret sense of guilt which they hardly understood and Jack was consciously glad that his mother did not know just where he was. When they were on the street again, Dick, feeling that he and Jack should do their part, suggested a drink of beer in a nearby drug store. "Next?" asked Gurdey, when they were out again, and Woodman said : "What do you say if we go down to C street and pick us up some pretty little girls. Then we can go to the cabaret some place and have something to eat and drink and dance if we want to." "Sure thing." laughed Gurdey. "Wood's always kern for that part of the program." "No keener than yourself," retorted Woodman. "Benner

122 IMPROVEMENT ERA told me you were at the Dove Cot last week. I do use a little dis- cretion as to where I go." "Well, I'll agree with you that is a little too tough a place to risk. But I'd try anything once. It's all in life, you know." Soon they were in a part of the city entirely new to our coun- try friends. It was marked by the frequency of saloons, the con- fused sounds of ragtime music coming from many directions at the same time, and the groups of gaudily-dressed, giggling girls. "What do you fellows say if we try the Gelding House to- night?" asked Woodman, looking over his shoulder. "Doesn't matter to us," answered Dick. "You fellows lead and we'll follow." The underlying meaning of it all was by this time apparent even to Jack. At first he wondered if he could be dreaming. Surely fellows like Woodman and Gurdey were of the right sort. He walked along in a sort of daze. Dick was also silent, but their companions kept up a lively conversation. "Keep your eyes open, fellows," Woodman called back, reck- lessly, "and catch onto the first pretty little peach you see. Here comes mine. now. Hello, sweetheart," he called out, familiarly, and to Jack's surprise the girl stopped and smiled as she an- swered "Hello." "What do you say if we spend the evening down at the Geld- ing," Woodman continued. "I'm with you," and they walked off together. "Well, he's a selfish cad to take the only one in sight," growled Gurdey "But here come some more and here's the Gelding. Three, one apiece, catch on fellows." Gurdey stepped forward and touched one of the girls on the shoulder. "Engaged?" he asked. Jack felt dizzy. They were at the door of the cabaret. The room was ablaze with light, there was luring music, and dancing and tables surrounded with bare-shouldered women and reckless men. "Come on, fellows, here's your girls," called Gurdey as he passed on with the one he had chosen. Strangely in that instant, the luring picture before Jack was blotted out for a moment, by another. He saw himself sitting at his mother's feet before the open fire in the old home. Her hand was on his head and her dear voice was saving, "For the sake of your future, my bov, keep yourself pure." He stretched out his hand and clutched Dick's arm. "For God's sake, don't go in there," he whispered hoarsely. "O what's the matter with you ? Don't be a sissy. Come on." and Dick took the hand of the girl beside him and went in. Jack felt a touch on his arm. A pair of brazen eyes were

THE GIFT 12.? raised to his, and two red lips were near his face. There was a whiff of perfume also mixed in the memory he retained. "If you'd rather, we can go to some other place — or to my room," a subtle voice sounded in his ear and he felt a pressure on his arm. He shuddered. Then he wheeled about and walked rapidly away. A mocking laugh followed him. The boy quickened his steps and never paused until he was in his own room. He. sank upon his knees beside his bed and half sobbing cried out: "O Mother! Mother!" ******* "Oh, keep your sermons to yourself," said Dick, hotly. Tt was Saturday morning and Jack was trying to show his friend what a terrible step he had taken last night. "I guess if fellows like Woodman and Gurdey — and I saw a lot more of them there — can go to places like that it won't hurt me. Why you should have heard them hoot you for your old- fashioned prudishness, as they called it. They say you'll come through all right, though. It's a part of the age." Jack's face flushed. "It may be a vice of the age, but I thank God I didn't yield last night. Look here, Dick, you know as well as I do that it's not right. Some day you'll marry. What would the kind of a girl you would want for a wife think of it?" "Well, in the first place I'm not on the marry road just now. There's plenty of time to reform before that. In the second place the girl wouldn't need to know it. You know where ignorance is bliss and so forth." "Would you call that fair play? Suppose she had done — " "Oh, come off, Jack. That argument is as old-fashioned as you are. It won't hold. Women may not exactly like it. but they have to put up with it, so have learned to regard it sensibly. See how popular Woodman and his bunch are with the swellest girls in school. Really it isn't a thing that matters as we have been taught to think it does. Can't you see that you are behind the times, Jack boy?" "I don't care. I know that I'm right. And some day I'll bet that you'll find nut it matters, too," Jack persisted doggedly as he picked up his cap and left the room. ******* "I sav, lack, did you see that new beauty sitting by Grace Holding in chapel this morning?" The question was from Dick. Tie and Tack were seniors now, and the final term was just com- mencing. lack admitted that he had, though he did not confess thai Dick's query had sent his heart beating at an uncomfortable rate. "Well, do vou know, old man. I fell in all over the minute T

124 IMPROVEMENT ERA saw her." Jack might have acknowledged that this described his own plight, but again he kept silent. "I never saw such eyes, and hair, and well — something else that a fellow can't just describe. A sort of feeling that she is genuine clear through." Jack recognized this as the quality which had first attracted him. "She's entered school," Dick rattled on. "And she's a senior. She's Grace Golding's cousin and her name is Marian Thome. She had nearly finished at Radcliffe when her folks moved out here for the health of some member of the family. She's been out a year, but is coming in now to finish up." "Well, you've found out a good deal in one day," observed Jack. "And I intend to find out a good deal more. I tell you, old man, I'm clear crazy over her. It's a good thing I'm a privileged senior for I can feel it in my bones that from now on the subjects in the curriculum will be minor ones to me. I wonder if she plays tennis. I believe I'll see if I can't hunt Grace up. I can't wait for an introduction," and Dick left Jack wondering what had so suddenly depressed him. That was the beginning. From that day, Dick Harrison wooed Marian Thorne with open persistence, and Jack looked on, loving her in silent misery. Spring came and commencement was almost over. It had been a strenuous, happy, exciting week for the seniors. Most of them were deciding on their future work. Dick had two splendid propositions awaiting his decision. One was a professorship in his alma mater, the other was a commission from a big newspaper syndicate to the war zone. Jack, much to the disgust of his friend, had succumbed to the entreaties of a persistent school board and accepted the principal- ship of a struggling high school not far from their country home. "Have you decided which way your Ves' is going?" asked Jack, on the last dav of commencement week. "No, but it will be decided for me tonight," Dick answered, seriously. "Marian has held me off all these months. Though I try to make myself sure that she cares I can't feel absolutelv cer- tain. She's promised to see me tonight alone. She usually in- sists on two or three of vou other cads around. She'll have to answer me. If it's yes, I'll stay here ; if it's no, I'll leave tonight for Europe, and I won't care if I never come back." Jack listened with a pain in his heart that Dick never sus- pected. "Well. T have an appointment with Prexy. I had nearlv for- gotten," Dirk resumed, suddenly. "When do vou leave?" he asked. "In the morning. I'm nearly packed."

THE GIFT 125 "Wish you'd give up your sentimental plan about that con- founded high school, Jack, and get into something worth while." But Jack shook his head. "Well, I must be off. I may go right from Prexy's to see Marian. Wish me luck, old man," and Dick held out his hand. "Sure," said Jack, with an effort at sincerity, trying to keep back the lump that threatened to choke him. "She's worth a better man than you are, though, and 1 hope you'll try to make up to her all you can." Jack was as much sur- prised at these words as was Dick, who wheeled upon him, de- manding: "Well, I didn't know I was a criminal. What do you mean?" "You're above the average, Dick," Jack said, flushing. "No one appreciates that more than I do. You have splendid quali- ties, but," he faltered. "I wish — when I know that you're going to offer yourself to her — oh, I'd give — anything — if — you had al- ways been — straight." Dick studied the face of his friend for a moment, then burst out angrily : "Why, I believe you're in love with her, yourself." Jack opened his lips to deny the fact but his heart would not let the untruth pass. He was silent. Dick's face grew dark. "You're jealous — you big coward, and now at the last min- ute you want to rob me of her. But you shall not do it. It is not you she loves, and she has sense enough, I'm sure, to not be in- fluenced by such nonsense, even if you do tell her." Jack's face turned white at the insinuation and his hands clenched. He was about to speak, but Dick burst out again : "So this is the fellow I thought was my best friend. By gad, I'd like to — " He choked off the sentence and grabbing his hat left the room. Poor Jack sat stunned. What had possessed him to say such a thing to Dick, calling up a subject which had been tabooed be- tween them for four years. Perhaps Dick was right, after all, and he was nothing but a goody-good, a coward, and now mad with jealousy because someone else was going to carry away the one girl in the world who symbolized womanly perfection to him. He sat looking from the window in utter misery when his landlady tapped on his door and handed him a telegram. It was from home. His mother was seriously ill. Jack snatched up a time-table. Then he crushed the cloth- ing he had not already packed into his trunk, flew down the stairs, gave some hurried directions to the landlady, and was on his way to catch a homeward train which left in twenty minutes. * * * • * * * * "I cannot answer until I know you better." The words were spoken in a low, tremulous voice, and Marian Thome's grey eyes

126 IMPROVEMENT ERA met the earnest blue ones which had helped to plead Dick's cause. "Know me better! Why, Marian, haven't we been together nearly every day for five months. Haven't we compared views on every subject under the sun? We have about the same re- ligious and philosophic views; we like the same sort of amuse- ment, and I'm more than willing to change in any way you want me to. Come, dear, I must have my answer. I've told you about the two openings I have. My decision rests upon yours. I thought we were pretty well acquainted. What is it you don't know about me r The girl hesitated, and her eyes sought the floor, while two red spots began to burn on her cheeks. Her position was harder than she had been able to imagine. "Won't you tell me, Marian?" Dick pleaded, reaching for her hand. "I will if I can," she answered, withdrawing her hand. "But it is very hard and you may not understand." "Go on, I'll try." "You — you have met my — sister," she began, falteringly, "and poor little Phyllis." "Yes," Dick answered gently, and the picture of a frail wreck of a woman and a beautiful, blind child came before him. "You would scarcely believe," the girl went on, "that five years ago Alice was as young and full of life and happiness and hope as I am now, and a great deal more beautiful." "No one in the world could be more beutiful," the listening lover protested. "I've no doubt that Fred told Alice that many times as well as all the other sweet, wonderful things you have told me to- night. No picture could be brighter than the one he painted of their future. He was handsome and young and wealthy and flat- tered of the world. We all regarded him as a splendid match for Alice. They were married and went away for their honeymoon. I don't think anyone could be happier than they were when we bade them goodbye. They went to Europe and were gone for five months." The girl's voice suddenly choked with emotion, and she paused for control. When she continued it was in a low voice, tense with feeling. "When they returned, Alice was like a ghost of her former self, and the happiness had gone from both of their faces. Alice grew worse and worse and Fred more wretchedly despondent. In a year little Phyllis was born. Her eyes were affected. The doctors said there was only one chance in a thousand to save her sight. Alice was an invalid for life, and Fred heart-broken because he knew better than anyone else that he was the cause of this wreck of their happiness. When the doctors told him the babv would never see — he — committed suicide."

THE GIFT 127 Marian paused again. Her eyes were still on the floor and the two red spots burned on her cheeks. She seemed to be wait- ing for Dick to speak, but something choked him. "I think I need not tell you what was the cause of that trag- edy, but 1 vowed then that I would not give my love to any man until I was absolutely sure that he held to the same standard that I do. There can be no double standard. I have kept my soul and body pure as a priceless gift for my husband. He must bring the same precious gift to me. It has been hard to say these things, but there is no other way to make the future safe." She had not looked at him and she went on, little knowing that each word was a dagger in his heart. "I have liked you, Dick, but I could not give my love until I was sure. Did — you bring my — gift — to me?" She lifted her eyes and held out both hands. But at the sight of his haggard, pain-drawn face, a little cry escaped her lips and her hands dropped. "Oh," she breathed, brokenly, "I didn't know before how much I hoped." The man sank his head into his hands with a groan. His frame trembled. They sat so in silence for a time. The girl's face grew calm, but he was the first to speak. "Oh, Marian, must this wreck our happiness? Since I saw you my life has been irreproachable. If I had always known you I would have been all that you ask, but before, I did not know it mattered. Can you not forgive the past when you know the fu- ture will be all that you ask?" "If you did not think enough of yourself to keep yourself sa- cred for the great purpose of life, how can you expect so much of another? Besides, you bring your gift to me broken, and ex- pect mine unmarred in return." Her tone told him that his cause had perished. He staggered to his feet. She held out her hand and said kindly : "I shall always be your friend, Dick, and I hope that now you know it does matter, you will still keep your life 'irreproachable'." He could not answer her. Stunned and disappointed, he left the house. Once outside he sought a telegraph office and wired his acceptance to the newspaper syndicate. A few hours later, as the train was carrying him swiftly toward New York, he thought it all over, and could but acknowledge the justice of his punish- ment. His thoughts turned to Jack's words, and he made two re- solves ; one that he would write to Jack as soon as he reached his destination, the other that as soon as he was in a position finan- cially to do so, he would dedicate his life to a campaign against the evil which had wrecked his happiness. ******* Tack had spent the summer on the coast with his mother. She

128 IMPROVEMENT ERA was now almost as well as ever, and he was bringing her home. They had stopped oft' for a few hours in Stratton for Jack to meet the school board of the Strattton high school. His school would open in two weeks. Making his mother comfortable in a hotel, Jack went out to find the president of the school board. A maid at the door of the president's house informed him that Mr. Harper had gone to a lecture in the Young People's Christian Association Hall, «just around the corner of the next block. She said it was about time for the meeting to be out and invited Jack to wait. He was anxious to become acquainted with the town, so decided to walk over to the building. He entered the vestibule leading into the main hall and stood waiting. A woman's voice came to him from the rostrum. It was a sweet, low voice and sounded strangely familiar. Instinctively Jack entered the hall and stood before a pillar. He started as he recognized the figure, standing before that spell-bound audience, as Marian Thorne. He leaned against the pillar for support. What did it mean ? He had supposed that she and Dick were married and all summer he had been trying to forget the pain in his heart. She was dressed simply in black, and she had never seemed so beautiful to Jack as she did now, her face lighted with emotion, her slender form bent slightly forward and her hands extended toward her audience. It was some time before Jack could focus his mind onto what she was saying. She was con- cluding her lecture. "Keep yourselves pure, my girls. More jealously than you would guard a casket of priceless jewels, guard your own virtue. Keep that most precious of all jewels, as a sacred gift for your husband on your wedding day, and demand the same matchless gift of the man with whom you kneel at the altar, into whose keep- ing you place your future happiness." She stopped and disap- peared from the rostrum. There was a hush in the big room and then people began to move toward the doors. Jack Bates still stood against the pillar. He was aroused by a voice calling his name. Mr. Harper stood before him with extended hand. "Glad to see you, Mr. Bates. I received you letter and beg your pardon for keeping you waiting after the time of our ap- pointment, but we had a splendid lecture which I didn't like to miss." Jack found his voice. "Can you tell me where Miss Thorne the lady who lectured is staying?" "She came in with Reverend Jackson and his wife. They live in the third house south, across the street. Shall we go now and talk over those school matters ?" "Please excuse me for a half hour, Mr. Harper. I must see

THE GIFT 129 Miss Thorne. She is an old school-mate of mine," and Jack Bates left the school board president wondering at the strange behavior of the young man they had been so eager to secure. Jack was met at the door of the parsonage by the minister himself, who showed him into the drawing room. Marian came forward with both hands extended and an unmistakable welcome in her eyes. They began talking of mutual friends at college. Soon the minister excused himself and left them alone. A con- straint fell between. After a pause, Jack went to the window where Marian was sitting. She did not look at him. He studied her face for a moment and an overwhelming longing to claim this girl he had loved so long swept over him. "Marian," he breathed softly, touching her hand, his eyes were full of the words he could not speak. She turned and looked at him for a long second, then said in a low tone : "In a letter Dick has told me all about you. I did not know you cared. I was going to spend my life on the lecture platform — but — but, — " she did not complete the sentence. Jack took both her hands, a glad light springing into his face. "Come, let us go to my mother. It is to her that I owe the strength with which I kept my gift for you." The Year's Crown Again the promise of the gracious dawn Of earth's east-risen Day-star ! Ringing clear, "Peace and Good-will to men," heaven'.^ chime, we hear. And selfish souls to kindlier deeds are born, While lives of want and care are less forlorn. In green-girt home many from far and near Will gather now, and Names to memory dear Invoke by fire-side glow — without, the Storm. "The lowly Babe within a manger lay." — A carol swells upon the wind-swept town. The joy of earth's Child-hearted mingles meet In love and mirth that Birthday Morn to greet : - The sacred light of Christmas shines to crown The Year, like Charlemagne crowned on Christmas Day. LONDON, ENGLAND Florence L. LancasteB