She took infinite satisfaction in sending one hundred dollars toUncle Enos, for she had accepted what he gave her as a loan, and sether heart on repaying every fraction of it. Another hundred she gaveto Hepsey, who found her out and came to report her trials andtribulations. The good soul had ventured South and tried to buy hermother. But "ole missis" would not let her go at any price, and thefaithful chattel would not run away. Sorely disappointed, Hepsey hadbeen obliged to submit; but her trip was not a failure, for sheliberated several brothers and sent them triumphantly to Canada.

 

　　"You must take it, Hepsey, for I could not rest happy if I put itaway to lie idle while you can save men and women from torment withit. I'd give it if it was my last penny, for I can help in no otherway; and if I need money, I can always earn it, thank God!" saidChristie, as Hepsey hesitated to take so much from a fellow-worker.

 

　　The thought of that investment lay warm at Christie's heart, andnever woke a regret, for well she knew that every dollar of it wouldbe blessed, since shares in the Underground Railroad pay splendiddividends that never fail.

 

　　Another portion of her fortune, as she called Harry's gift, wasbestowed in wedding presents upon Lucy, who at length succeeded inwinning the heart of the owner of the "heavenly eyes" and"distracting legs;" and, having gained her point, married him withdramatic celerity, and went West to follow the fortunes of her lord.

 

　　The old theatre was to be demolished and the company scattered, so afarewell festival was held, and Christie went to it, feeling moresolitary than ever as she bade her old friends a long good-bye.

 

　　The rest of the money burned in her pocket, but she prudently put itby for a rainy day, and fell to work again when her brief vacationwas over.

 

　　Hearing of a chance for a good needle-woman in a large andwell-conducted mantua-making establishment, she secured it as atemporary thing, for she wanted to divert her mind from that lastsad experience by entirely different employment and surroundings.

 

　　She liked to return at night to her own little home, solitary andsimple as it was, and felt a great repugnance to accept any placewhere she would be mixed up with family affairs again.

 

　　So day after day she went to her seat in the workroom where a dozenother young women sat sewing busily on gay garments, with as muchlively gossip to beguile the time as Miss Cotton, the forewoman,would allow.

 

　　For a while it diverted Christie, as she had a feminine love forpretty things, and enjoyed seeing delicate silks, costly lace, andall the indescribable fantasies of fashion. But as spring came on,the old desire for something fresh and free began to haunt her, andshe had both waking and sleeping dreams of a home in the countrysomewhere, with cows and flowers, clothes bleaching on green grass,bob-o'-links making rapturous music by the river, and the smell ofnew-mown hay, all lending their charms to the picture she paintedfor herself.

 

　　Most assuredly she would have gone to find these things, led by theinstincts of a healthful nature, had not one slender tie held hertill it grew into a bond so strong she could not break it.

 

　　Among her companions was one, and one only, who attracted her. Theothers were well-meaning girls, but full of the frivolous purposesand pleasures which their tastes prompted and their dull lifefostered. Dress, gossip, and wages were the three topics whichabsorbed them. Christie soon tired of the innumerable changes rungupon these themes, and took refuge in her own thoughts, soonlearning to enjoy them undisturbed by the clack of many tonguesabout her. Her evenings at home were devoted to books, for she hadthe true New England woman's desire for education, and read orstudied for the love of it. Thus she had much to think of as herneedle flew, and was rapidly becoming a sort of sewing-machine whenlife was brightened for her by the finding of a friend.

 

　　Among the girls was one quiet, skilful creature, whose black dress,peculiar face, and silent ways attracted Christie. Her evidentdesire to be let alone amused the new comer at first, and she madeno effort to know her. But presently she became aware that Rachelwatched her with covert interest, stealing quick, shy glances at heras she sat musing over her work. Christie smiled at her when shecaught these glances, as if to reassure the looker of her good-will.

 

　　But Rachel only colored, kept her eyes fixed on her work, and wasmore reserved than ever.

 

　　This interested Christie, and she fell to studying this young womanwith some curiosity, for she was different from the others. Thoughevidently younger than she looked, Rachel's face was that of one whohad known some great sorrow, some deep experience; for there werelines on the forehead that contrasted strongly with the bright,abundant hair above it; in repose, the youthfully red, soft lips hada mournful droop, and the eyes were old with that indescribableexpression which comes to those who count their lives by emotions,not by years.

 

　　Strangely haunting eyes to Christie, for they seemed to appeal toher with a mute eloquence she could not resist. In vain did Rachelanswer her with quiet coldness, nod silently when she wished her acheery "good morning," and keep resolutely in her own somewhatisolated corner, though invited to share the sunny window where theother sat. Her eyes belied her words, and those fugitive glancesbetrayed the longing of a lonely heart that dared not yield itselfto the genial companionship so freely offered it.

 

　　Christie was sure of this, and would not be repulsed; for her ownheart was very solitary. She missed Helen, and longed to fill theempty place. She wooed this shy, cold girl as patiently and asgently as a lover might, determined to win her confidence, becauseall the others had failed to do it. Sometimes she left a flower inRachel's basket, always smiled and nodded as she entered, and oftenstopped to admire the work of her tasteful fingers. It wasimpossible to resist such friendly overtures, and slowly Rachel'scoldness melted; into the beseeching eyes came a look of gratitude,the more touching for its wordlessness, and an irrepressible smilebroke over her face in answer to the cordial ones that made thesunshine of her day.

 

　　Emboldened by these demonstrations, Christie changed her seat, andquietly established between them a daily interchange of somethingbeside needles, pins, and spools. Then, as Rachel did not draw backoffended, she went a step farther, and, one day when they chanced tobe left alone to finish off a delicate bit of work, she spoke outfrankly:

 

　　"Why can't we be friends? I want one sadly, and so do you, unlessyour looks deceive me. We both seem to be alone in the world, tohave had trouble, and to like one another. I won't annoy you by anyimpertinent curiosity, nor burden you with uninterestingconfidences; I only want to feel that you like me a little and don'tmind my liking you a great deal. Will you be my friend, and let mebe yours?"A great tear rolled clown upon the shining silk in Rachel's hands asshe looked into Christie's earnest face, and answered with an almostpassionate gratitude in her own:

 

　　"You can never need a friend as much as I do, or know what a blessedthing it is to find such an one as you are.""Then I may love you, and not be afraid of offending?" criedChristie, much touched.

 

　　"Yes. But remember I didn't ask it first," said Rachel, halfdropping the hand she had held in both her own.

 

　　"You proud creature! I'll remember; and when we quarrel, I'll takeall the blame upon myself."Then Christie kissed her warmly, whisked away the tear, and began topaint the delights in store for them in her most enthusiastic way,being much elated with her victory; while Rachel listened with anewly kindled light in her lovely eyes, and a smile that showed howwinsome her face had been before many tears washed its bloom away,and much trouble made it old too soon.

 

　　Christie kept her word,--asked no questions, volunteered noconfidences, but heartily enjoyed the new friendship, and found thatit gave to life the zest which it had lacked before. Now some onecared for her, and, better still, she could make some one happy, andin the act of lavishing the affection of her generous nature on acreature sadder and more solitary than herself, she found asatisfaction that never lost its charm. There was nothing in herpossession that she did not offer Rachel, from the whole of herheart to the larger half of her little room.

 

　　"I'm tired of thinking only of myself. It makes me selfish andlow-spirited; for I'm not a bit interesting. I must love somebody,and 'love them hard,' as children say; so why can't you come andstay with me? There's room enough, and we could be so cosy eveningswith our books and work. I know you need some one to look after you,and I love dearly to take care of people. Do come," she would say,with most persuasive hospitality.

 

　　But Rachel always answered steadily: "Not yet, Christie, not yet. I've got something to do before I can think of doing any thing sobeautiful as that. Only love me, dear, and some day I'll show youall my heart, and thank you as I ought."So Christie was content to wait, and, meantime, enjoyed much; for,with Rachel as a friend, she ceased to care for country pleasures,found happiness in the work that gave her better food than meredaily bread, and never thought of change; for love can make a homefor itself anywhere.

 

　　A very bright and happy time was this in Christie's life; but, likemost happy times, it was very brief. Only one summer allowed for theblossoming of the friendship that budded so slowly in the spring;then the frost came and killed the flowers; but the root lived longunderneath the snows of suffering, doubt, and absence.

 

　　Coming to her work late one morning, she found the usually orderlyroom in confusion. Some of the girls were crying; some whisperingtogether,--all looking excited and dismayed. Mrs. King satmajestically at her table, with an ominous frown upon her face. MissCotton stood beside her, looking unusually sour and stern, for theancient virgin's temper was not of the best. Alone, before them all,with her face hidden in her hands, and despair in every line of herdrooping figure, stood Rachel,--a meek culprit at the stern bar ofjustice, where women try a sister woman.

 

　　"What's the matter?" cried Christie, pausing on the threshold.

 

　　MRS. KING AND MISS COTTON.

 

　　Rachel shivered, as if the sound of that familiar voice was a freshwound, but she did not lift her head; and Mrs. King answered, with anervous emphasis that made the bugles of her head-dress rattledismally:

 

　　"A very sad thing, Miss Devon,--very sad, indeed; a thing whichnever occurred in my establishment before, and never shall again. Itappears that Rachel, whom we all considered a most respectable andworthy girl, has been quite the reverse. I shudder to think what theconsequences of my taking her without a character (a thing I neverdo, and was only tempted by her superior taste as a trimmer) mighthave been if Miss Cotton, having suspicions, had not made strictinquiry and confirmed them.""That was a kind and generous act, and Miss Cotton must feel proudof it," said Christie, with an indignant recollection of Mr.

 

　　Fletcher's "cautious inquiries" about herself.

 

　　"It was perfectly right and proper, Miss Devon; and I thank her forher care of my interests." And Mrs. King bowed her acknowledgment ofthe service with a perfect castanet accompaniment, whereat MissCotton bridled with malicious complacency.

 

　　"Mrs. King, are you sure of this?" said Christie. "Miss Cotton doesnot like Rachel because her work is so much praised. May not herjealousy make her unjust, or her zeal for you mislead her?""I thank you for your polite insinuations, miss," returned the irateforewoman. "I never make mistakes; but you will find that you havemade a very great one in choosing Rachel for your bosom friendinstead of gome one who would be a credit to you. Ask the creatureherself if all I've said of her isn't true. She can't deny it."With the same indefinable misgiving which had held her aloof,Christie turned to Rachel, lifted up the hidden face with gentleforce, and looked into it imploringly, as she whispered: "Is ittrue?"The woful countenance she saw made any other answer needless.

 

　　Involuntarily her hands fell away, and she hid her own face,uttering the one reproach, which, tender and tearful though it was,seemed harder to be borne than the stern condemnation gone before.

 

　　"Oh, Rachel, I so loved and trusted you!"The grief, affection, and regret that trembled in her voice rousedRachel from her state of passive endurance and gave her courage toplead for herself. But it was Christie whom she addressed, Christiewhose pardon she implored, Christie's sorrowful reproach that shemost keenly felt.

 

　　"Yes, it is true," she said, looking only at the woman who had beenthe first to befriend and now was the last to desert her. "It istrue that I once went astray, but God knows I have repented; thatfor years I've tried to be an honest girl again, and that but forHis help I should be a far sadder creature than I am this day.

 

　　Christie, you can never know how bitter hard it is to outlive a sinlike mine, and struggle up again from such a fall. It clings to me;it won't be shaken off or buried out of sight. No sooner do I find asafe place like this, and try to forget the past, than some onereads my secret in my face and hunts me down. It seems very cruel,very hard, yet it is my punishment, so I try to bear it, and beginagain. What hurts me now more than all the rest, what breaks myheart, is that I deceived you. I never meant to do it. I did notseek you, did I? I tried to be cold and stiff; never asked for love,though starving for it, till you came to me, so kind, so generous,so dear,--how could I help it? Oh, how could I help it then?"Christie had watched Rachel while she spoke, and spoke to her alone;her heart yearned toward this one friend, for she still loved her,and, loving, she believed in her.

 

　　"I don't reproach you, dear: I don't despise or desert you, andthough I'm grieved and disappointed, I'll stand by you still,because you need me more than ever now, and I want to prove that Iam a true friend. Mrs. King, please forgive and let poor Rachel stayhere, safe among us.""Miss Devon, I'm surprised at you! By no means; it would be theruin of my establishment; not a girl would remain, and the characterof my rooms would be lost for ever," replied Mrs. King, goaded on bythe relentless Cotton.

 

　　"But where will she go if you send her away? Who will employ her ifyou inform against her? What stranger will believe in her if we, whohave known her so long, fail to befriend her now? Mrs. King, thinkof your own daughters, and be a mother to this poor girl for theirsake."That last stroke touched the woman's heart; her cold eye softened,her hard mouth relaxed, and pity was about to win the day, whenprudence, in the shape of Miss Cotton, turned the scale, for thatspiteful spinster suddenly cried out, in a burst of righteous wrath:

 

　　"If that hussy stays, I leave this establishment for ever!" andfollowed up the blow by putting on her bonnet with a flourish.

 

　　At this spectacle, self-interest got the better of sympathy in Mrs.

 

　　King's worldly mind. To lose Cotton was to lose her right hand, andcharity at that price was too expensive a luxury to be indulged in;so she hardened her heart, composed her features, and said,impressively:

 

　　"Take off your bonnet, Cotton; I have no intention of offending you,or any one else, by such a step. I forgive you, Rachel, and I pityyou; but I can't think of allowing you to stay. There are properinstitutions for such as you, and I advise you to go to one andrepent. You were paid Saturday night, so nothing prevents yourleaving at once. Time is money here, and we are wasting it. Youngladies, take your seats."All but Christie obeyed, yet no one touched a needle, and Mrs. Kingsat, hurriedly stabbing pins into the fat cushion on her breast, asif testing the hardness of her heart.

 

　　Rachel's eye went round the room; saw pity, aversion, or contempt,on every face, but met no answering glance, for even Christie's eyeswere bent thoughtfully on the ground, and Christie's heart seemedclosed against her. As she looked her whole manner changed; hertears ceased to fall, her face grew hard, and a reckless mood seemedto take possession of her, as if finding herself deserted bywomankind, she would desert her own womanhood.

 

　　"I might have known it would be so," she said abruptly, with abitter smile, sadder to see than her most hopeless tears. "It's nouse for such as me to try; better go back to the old life, for thereare kinder hearts among the sinners than among the saints, and noone can live without a bit of love. Your Magdalen Asylums arepenitentiaries, not homes; I won't go to any of them. Your pietyisn't worth much, for though you read in your Bible how the Lordtreated a poor soul like me, yet when I stretch out my hand to youfor help, not one of all you virtuous, Christian women dare take itand keep me from a life that's worse than hell."As she spoke Rachel flung out her hand with a half-defiant gesture,and Christie took it. That touch, full of womanly compassion, seemedto exorcise the desperate spirit that possessed the poor girl in herdespair, for, with a stifled exclamation, she sunk down atChristie's feet, and lay there weeping in all the passionateabandonment of love and gratitude, remorse and shame. Never hadhuman voice sounded so heavenly sweet to her as that which broke thesilence of the room, as this one friend said, with the earnestnessof a true and tender heart:

 

　　"Mrs. King, if you send her away, I must take her in; for if shedoes go back to the old life, the sin of it will lie at our door,and God will remember it against us in the end. Some one must trusther, help her, love her, and so save her, as nothing else will.

 

　　Perhaps I can do this better than you,--at least, I'll try; for evenif I risk the loss of my good name, I could bear that better thanthe thought that Rachel had lost the work of these hard years forwant of upholding now. She shall come home with me; no one thereneed know of this discovery, and I will take any work to her thatyou will give me, to keep her from want and its temptations. Willyou do this, and let me sew for less, if I can pay you for thekindness in no other way?"Poor Mrs. King was "much tumbled up and down in her own mind;" shelonged to consent, but Cotton's eye was upon her, and Cotton'sdeparture would be an irreparable loss, so she decided to end thematter in the most summary manner. Plunging a particularly large pininto her cushioned breast, as if it was a relief to inflict thatmock torture upon herself, she said sharply:

 

　　"It is impossible. You can do as you please, Miss Devon, but Iprefer to wash my hands of the affair at once and entirely."Christie's eye went from the figure at her feet to the hard-featuredwoman who had been a kind and just mistress until now, and sheasked, anxiously:

 

　　"Do you mean that you wash your hands of me also, if I stand byRachel?""I do. I'm very sorry, but my young ladies must keep respectablecompany, or leave my service," was the brief reply, for Mrs. Kinggrew grimmer externally as the mental rebellion increasedinternally.

 

　　"Then I will leave it!" cried Christie, with an indignant voice andeye. "Come, dear, we'll go together." And without a look or word forany in the room, she raised the prostrate girl, and led her out intothe little hall.

 

　　There she essayed to comfort her, but before many words had passedher lips Rachel looked up, and she was silent with surprise, for theface she saw was neither despairing nor defiant, but beautifullysweet and clear, as the unfallen spirit of the woman shone throughthe grateful eyes, and blessed her for her loyalty.

 

　　"Christie, you have done enough for me," she said. "Go back, andkeep the good place you need, for such are hard to find. I can geton alone; I'm used to this, and the pain will soon be over.""I'll not go back!" cried Christie, hotly. "I'll do slop-work andstarve, before I'll stay with such a narrow-minded, cold-heartedwoman. Come home with me at once, and let us lay our planstogether.""No, dear; if I wouldn't go when you first asked me, much less willI go now, for I've done you harm enough already. I never can thankyou for your great goodness to me, never tell you what it has beento me. We must part now; but some day I'll come back and show youthat I've not forgotten how you loved and helped and trusted me,when all the others cast me off."Vain were Christie's arguments and appeals. Rachel was immovable,and all her friend could win from her was a promise to send word,now and then, how things prospered with her.

 

　　"And, Rachel, I charge you to come to me in any strait, no matterwhat it is, no matter where I am; for if any thing could break myheart, it would be to know that you had gone back to the old life,because there was no one to help and hold you up.""I never can go back; you have saved me, Christie, for you love me,you have faith in me, and that will keep me strong and safe when youare gone. Oh, my dear, my dear, God bless you for ever and forever!"Then Christie, remembering only that they were two loving women,alone in a world of sin and sorrow, took Rachel in her arms, kissedand cried over her with sisterly affection, and watched herprayerfully, as she went away to begin her hard task anew, withnothing but the touch of innocent lips upon her cheek, the baptism,of tender tears upon her forehead to keep her from despair.

 

　　Still cherishing the hope that Rachel would come back to her,Christie neither returned to Mrs. King nor sought another place ofany sort, but took home work from a larger establishment, and satsewing diligently in her little room, waiting, hoping, longing forher friend. But month after month went by, and no word, no sign cameto comfort her. She would not doubt, yet she could not help fearing,and in her nightly prayer no petition was more fervently made thanthat which asked the Father of both saint and sinner to keep poorRachel safe, and bring her back in his good time.

 

　　Never had she been so lonely as now, for Christie had a socialheart, and, having known the joy of a cordial friendship even for alittle while, life seemed very barren to her when she lost it. Nonew friend took Rachel's place, for none came to her, and a feelingof loyalty kept her from seeking one. But she suffered for the wantof genial society, for all the tenderness of her nature seemed tohave been roused by that brief but most sincere affection. Herhungry heart clamored for the happiness that was its right, and grewvery heavy as she watched friends or lovers walking in the summertwilight when she took her evening stroll. Often her eyes followedsome humble pair, longing to bless and to be blessed by the divinepassion whose magic beautifies the little milliner and her lad withthe same tender grace as the poet and the mistress whom he makesimmortal in a song. But neither friend nor lover came to Christie,and she said to herself, with a sad sort of courage:

 

　　"I shall be solitary all my life, perhaps; so the sooner I make upmy mind to it, the easier it will be to bear."At Christmas-tide she made a little festival for herself, by givingto each of the household drudges the most generous gift she couldafford, for no one else thought of them, and having known some ofthe hardships of servitude herself, she had much sympathy with thosein like case.

 

　　Then, with the pleasant recollection of two plain faces, brightenedby gratitude, surprise, and joy, she went out into the busy streetsto forget the solitude she left behind her.

 

　　Very gay they were with snow and sleigh-bells, holly-boughs, andgarlands, below, and Christmas sunshine in the winter sky above. Allfaces shone, all voices had a cheery ring, and everybody steppedbriskly on errands of good-will. Up and down went Christie, makingherself happy in the happiness of others. Looking in at theshop-windows, she watched, with interest, the purchases of busyparents, calculating how best to fill the little socks hung up athome, with a childish faith that never must be disappointed, nomatter how hard the times might be. She was glad to see so manyturkeys on their way to garnish hospitable tables, and hoped thatall the dear home circles might be found unbroken, though she hadplace in none. No Christmas-tree went by leaving a whiff of pinysweetness behind, that she did not wish it all success, and pictureto herself the merry little people dancing in its light. Andwhenever she saw a ragged child eying a window full of goodies,smiling even, while it shivered, she could not resist playing SantaClaus till her purse was empty, sending the poor little soulsenraptured home with oranges and apples in either hand, and splendidsweeties in their pockets, for the babies.

 

　　No envy mingled with the melancholy that would not be dispelled evenby these gentle acts, for her heart was very tender that night, andif any one had asked what gifts she desired most, she would haveanswered with a look more pathetic than any shivering child hadgiven her:

 

　　"I want the sound of a loving voice; the touch of a friendly hand."Going home, at last, to the lonely little room where no Christmasfire burned, no tree shone, no household group awaited her, sheclimbed the long, dark stairs, with drops on her cheeks, warmer thanany melted snow-flake could have left, and opening her door pausedon the threshold, smiling with wonder and delight, for in herabsence some gentle spirit had remembered her. A fire burnedcheerily upon the hearth, her lamp was lighted, a lovely rose-tree,in full bloom, filled the air with its delicate breath, and in itsshadow lay a note from Rachel.

 

　　"A merry Christmas and a happy New Year, Christie! Long ago you gaveme your little rose; I have watched and tended it for your sake,dear, and now when I want to show my love and thankfulness, I giveit back again as my one treasure. I crept in while you were gone,because I feared I might harm you in some way if you saw me. Ilonged to stay and tell you that I am safe and well, and busy, withyour good face looking into mine, but I don't deserve that yet. Onlylove me, trust me, pray for me, and some day you shall know what youhave done for me. Till then, God bless and keep you, dearest friend,your RACHEL."Never had sweeter tears fallen than those that dropped upon thelittle tree as Christie took it in her arms, and all the rosyclusters leaned toward her as if eager to deliver tender messages.

 

　　Surely her wish was granted now, for friendly hands had been at workfor her. Warm against her heart lay words as precious as if utteredby a loving voice, and nowhere, on that happy night, stood a fairerChristmas tree than that which bloomed so beautifully from the heartof a Magdalen who loved much and was forgiven.