Then they shone with genuine satisfaction as they went from theletters and papers on her table to the garden, where several youngwomen were at work with a healthful color in the cheeks that hadbeen very pale and thin in the spring.

 

　　"I think David is satisfied with me; for I have given all my heartand strength to his work, and it prospers well," she said toherself, and then her face grew thoughtful, as she recalled a lateevent which seemed to have opened a new field of labor for her ifshe chose to enter it.

 

　　A few evenings before she had gone to one of the many meetings ofworking-women, which had made some stir of late. Not a first visit,for she was much interested in the subject and full of sympathy forthis class of workers.

 

　　There were speeches of course, and of the most unparliamentary sort,for the meeting was composed almost entirely of women, each eager totell her special grievance or theory. Any one who chose got up andspoke; and whether wisely or foolishly each proved how great was theferment now going on, and how difficult it was for the two classesto meet and help one another in spite of the utmost need on one sideand the sincerest good-will on the other. The workers poured outtheir wrongs and hardships passionately or plaintively, demanding orimploring justice, sympathy, and help; displaying the ignorance,incapacity, and prejudice, which make their need all the morepitiful, their relief all the more imperative.

 

　　The ladies did their part with kindliness, patience, and oftenunconscious condescension, showing in their turn how little theyknew of the real trials of the women whom they longed to serve, howvery narrow a sphere of usefulness they were fitted for in spite ofculture and intelligence, and how rich they were in generoustheories, how poor in practical methods of relief.

 

　　One accomplished creature with learning radiating from every pore,delivered a charming little essay on the strong-minded women ofantiquity; then, taking labor into the region of art, painteddelightful pictures of the time when all would work harmoniouslytogether in an Ideal Republic, where each did the task she liked,and was paid for it in liberty, equality, and fraternity.

 

　　Unfortunately she talked over the heads of her audience, and it waslike telling fairy tales to hungry children to describe Aspasiadiscussing Greek politics with Pericles and Plato reposing uponivory couches, or Hypatia modestly delivering philosophical lecturesto young men behind a Tyrian purple curtain; and the Ideal Republicmet with little favor from anxious seamstresses, type-setters, andshop-girls, who said ungratefully among themselves, "That's all verypretty, but I don't see how it's going to better wages among us now"Another eloquent sister gave them a political oration which firedthe revolutionary blood in their veins, and made them eager to rushto the State-house en masse, and demand the ballot before one-halfof them were quite clear what it meant, and the other half were asunfit for it as any ignorant Patrick bribed with a dollar and a supof whiskey.

 

　　A third well-wisher quenched their ardor like a wet blanket, byreading reports of sundry labor reforms in foreign parts; mostinteresting, but made entirely futile by differences of climate,needs, and customs. She closed with a cheerful budget of statistics,giving the exact number of needle-women who had starved, gone mad,or committed suicide during the past year; the enormous profitswrung by capitalists from the blood and muscles of their employes;and the alarming increase in the cost of living, which was about toplunge the nation into debt and famine, if not destructiongenerally.

 

　　When she sat down despair was visible on many countenances, andimmediate starvation seemed to be waiting at the door to clutch themas they went out; for the impressible creatures believed every wordand saw no salvation anywhere.

 

　　Christie had listened intently to all this; had admired, regretted,or condemned as each spoke; and felt a steadily increasing sympathyfor all, and a strong desire to bring the helpers and the helpedinto truer relations with each other.

 

　　The dear ladies were so earnest, so hopeful, and so unpracticallybenevolent, that it grieved her to see so much breath wasted, somuch good-will astray; while the expectant, despondent, or excitedfaces of the work-women touched her heart; for well she knew howmuch they needed help, how eager they were for light, how ready tobe led if some one would only show a possible way.

 

　　As the statistical extinguisher retired, beaming with satisfactionat having added her mite to the good cause, a sudden anduncontrollable impulse moved Christie to rise in her place and askleave to speak. It was readily granted, and a little stir ofinterest greeted her; for she was known to many as Mr. Power'sfriend, David Sterling's wife, or an army nurse who had done well.

 

　　Whispers circulated quickly, and faces brightened as they turnedtoward her; for she had a helpful look, and her first words pleasedthem. When the president invited her to the platform she paused onthe lowest step, saying with an expressive look and gesture:

 

　　"I am better here, thank you; for I have been and mean to be aworking-woman all my life.""Hear! hear!" cried a stout matron in a gay bonnet, and the restindorsed the sentiment with a hearty round. Then they were verystill, and then in a clear, steady voice, with the sympatheticundertone to it that is so magical in its effect, Christie made herfirst speech in public since she left the stage.

 

　　That early training stood her in good stead now, giving herself-possession, power of voice, and ease of gesture; while thepurpose at her heart lent her the sort of simple eloquence thattouches, persuades, and convinces better than logic, flattery, ororatory.

 

　　What she said she hardly knew: words came faster than she couldutter them, thoughts pressed upon her, and all the lessons of herlife rose vividly before her to give weight to her arguments, valueto her counsel, and the force of truth to every sentence sheuttered. She had known so many of the same trials, troubles, andtemptations that she could speak understandingly of them; and,better still, she had conquered or outlived so many of them, thatshe could not only pity but help others to do as she had done.

 

　　Having found in labor her best teacher, comforter, and friend, shecould tell those who listened that, no matter how hard or humble thetask at the beginning, if faithfully and bravely performed, it wouldsurely prove a stepping-stone to something better, and with eachhonest effort they were fitting themselves for the nobler labor, andlarger liberty God meant them to enjoy.

 

　　The women felt that this speaker was one of them; for the same lineswere on her face that they saw on their own, her hands were no finelady's hands, her dress plainer than some of theirs, her speechsimple enough for all to understand; cheerful, comforting, and fullof practical suggestion, illustrations out of their own experience,and a spirit of companionship that uplifted their despondent hearts.

 

　　Yet more impressive than any thing she said was the subtle magnetismof character, for that has a universal language which all canunderstand. They saw and felt that a genuine woman stood down thereamong them like a sister, ready with head, heart, and hand to helpthem help themselves; not offering pity as an alms, but justice as aright. Hardship and sorrow, long effort and late-won reward had beenhers they knew; wifehood, motherhood, and widowhood brought her verynear to them; and behind her was the background of an earnest life,against which this figure with health on the cheeks, hope in theeyes, courage on the lips, and the ardor of a wide benevolencewarming the whole countenance stood out full of unconscious dignityand beauty; an example to comfort, touch, and inspire them.

 

　　It was not a long speech, and in it there was no learning, nostatistics, and no politics; yet it was the speech of the evening,and when it was over no one else seemed to have any thing to say. Asthe meeting broke up Christie's hand was shaken by many roughened bythe needle, stained with printer's ink, or hard with humbler toil;many faces smiled gratefully at her, and many voices thanked herheartily. But sweeter than any applause were the words of one womanwho grasped her hand, and whispered with wet eyes:

 

　　"I knew your blessed husband; he was very good to me, and I've beenthanking the Lord he had such a wife for his reward!"Christie was thinking of all this as she sat alone that day, andasking herself if she should go on; for the ladies had been asgrateful as the women; had begged her to come and speak again,saying they needed just such a mediator to bridge across the spacethat now divided them from those they wished to serve. She certainlyseemed fitted to act as interpreter between the two classes; for,from the gentleman her father she had inherited the fine instincts,gracious manners, and unblemished name of an old and honorable race;from the farmer's daughter, her mother, came the equally valuabledower of practical virtues, a sturdy love of independence, and greatrespect for the skill and courage that can win it.

 

　　Such women were much needed and are not always easy to find; foreven in democratic America the hand that earns its daily bread mustwear some talent, name, or honor as an ornament, before it is verycordially shaken by those that wear white gloves.

 

　　"Perhaps this is the task my life has been fitting me for," shesaid. "A great and noble one which I should be proud to accept andhelp accomplish if I can. Others have finished the emancipation workand done it splendidly, even at the cost of all this blood andsorrow. I came too late to do any thing but give my husband andbehold the glorious end. This new task seems to offer me the chanceof being among the pioneers, to do the hard work, share thepersecution, and help lay the foundation of a new emancipation whosehappy success I may never see. Yet I had rather be remembered asthose brave beginners are, though many of them missed the triumph,than as the late comers will be, who only beat the drums and wavethe banners when the victory is won."Just then the gate creaked on its hinges, a step sounded in theporch, and little Ruth ran in to say in an audible whisper:

 

　　"It's a lady, mamma, a very pretty lady: can you see her?""Yes, dear, ask her in."There was a rustle of sweeping silks through the narrow hall, avision of a very lovely woman in the door-way, and two daintilygloved hands were extended as an eager voice asked: "DearestChristie, don't you remember Bella Carrol?"Christie did remember, and had her in her arms directly, utterlyregardless of the imminent destruction of a marvellous hat, or thebad effect of tears on violet ribbons. Presently they were sittingclose together, talking with April faces, and telling their storiesas women must when they meet after the lapse of years. A few lettershad passed between them, but Bella had been abroad, and Christie toobusy living her life to have much time to write about it.

 

　　"Your mother, Bella? how is she, and where?""Still with Augustine, and he you know is melancholy mad: veryquiet, very patient, and very kind to every one but himself. Hispenances for the sins of his race would soon kill him if mother wasnot there to watch over him. And her penance is never to leave him.""Dear child, don't tell me any more; it is too sad. Talk of yourselfand Harry. Now you smile, so I'm sure all is well with him.""Yes, thank heaven! Christie, I do believe fate means to spare us asdear old Dr. Shirley said. I never can be gay again, but I keep ascheerful and busy as I can, for Harry's sake, and he does the samefor mine. We shall always be together, and all in all to oneanother, for we can never marry and have homes apart you know. Wehave wandered over the face of the earth for several years, and nowwe mean to settle down and be as happy and as useful as we can.""That's brave! I am so glad to hear it, and so truly thankful it ispossible. But tell me, Bella, what Harry means to do? You spoke inone of your first letters of his being hard at work studyingmedicine. Is that to be his profession?""Yes; I don't know what made him choose it, unless it was the hopethat he might spare other families from a curse like ours, orlighten it if it came. After Helen's death he was a changedcreature; no longer a wild boy, but a man. I told him what you saidto me, and it gave him hope. Dr. Shirley confirmed it as far as hedared; and Hal resolved to make the most of his one chance byinteresting himself in some absorbing study, and leaving no room forfear, no time for dangerous recollections. I was so glad, and motherso comforted, for we both feared that sad trouble would destroy him.

 

　　He studied hard, got on splendidly, and then went abroad to finishoff. I went with him; for poor August was past hope, and mamma wouldnot let me help her. The doctor said it was best for me to be away,and excellent for Hal to have me with him, to cheer him up, and keephim steady with a little responsibility. We have been happy togetherin spite of our trouble, he in his profession, and I in him; now heis ready, so we have come home, and now the hardest part begins forme.""How, Bella?""He has his work and loves it: I have nothing after my duty to himis done. I find I've lost my taste for the old pleasures andpursuits, and though I have tried more sober, solid ones, therestill remains much time to hang heavy on my hands, and such an emptyplace in my heart, that even Harry's love cannot fill it. I'm afraidI shall get melancholy,--that is the beginning of the end for us,you know."As Bella spoke the light died out of her eyes, and they grewdespairing with the gloom of a tragic memory. Christie drew thebeautiful, pathetic face clown upon her bosom, longing to comfort,yet feeling very powerless to lighten Bella's burden.

 

　　But Christie's little daughter did it for her. Ruth had beenstanding near regarding the "pretty lady," with as much wonder andadm............