Daisy or The Fairy Spectacles Part 10

"Yes, and how easily, too! O, why do not all people find out what a cheap comfort it is to help each other? I think, if they only knew this, that every one would grow kind and full of charity."

Daisy did not dream that the child listened, or would understand what she was saying; but the little girl, tears springing into her eyes again, answered softly, "O, no, not all."

"Why, have you found so many wicked people, my poor child?"

"Perhaps they are not wicked; but they are not kind;" and the girl's voice grew sadder. "Some time before you came, a beautiful lady pa.s.sed; she was not dressed like you, but a hundred times handsomer; and I thought she would have ever so much to give away; so I asked her for a penny to buy bread."

"And did she give you one?" asked Daisy, who saw that the lady must have been her sister Maud.

"Not she; she called me names, and pushed me away so roughly that I fell into a bunch of nettles; and they stung till it seemed as if bees were eating me up. Look there!"

So she held up her poor little arms, that were pinched with poverty, as the dame's with age; they were mottled, white and red or purple, with the nettle stings; and only looking at them made her cry again.

But Daisy comforted her. "There, I wouldn't mind; she did not mean to hurt you. And, besides, you must blame me; for I offended her, and made her cross. She is my sister."

"O, dear, then I don't want to go home and live with you; let me go back and die, if I must. That lady would beat me, and pull my hair, I know.

When you met me, I was not crying for hunger, though I was so hungry, nor for cold, though my clothes were all worn out, but because she was so unkind. Don't make me live with her."

Here the fairy drew the little girl towards her, and whispered, "Daisy has to live with her, and be fretted at and worked hard all the time; if you go, Maud will have another to torment, and will leave her sister in peace sometimes."

Then the tears were dried at once; and the child, taking Daisy's hand, said firmly, "Wherever you lead me I will go."

Daisy never knew what made her change her mind, for she had not heard the fairy's whisper; but angels in heaven knew it, and saw how, at that moment, the child unconsciously stepped into one of the golden paths that lead to the beautiful city on high.

For no good deed, no good thought or intention even, is lost. Few, perhaps, behold them here; but hosts of the heavenly people may always be looking on.

And even if they were not, it is better to be good and kind: the good deed brings its own reward; it makes our hearts peaceful; it makes us respect ourselves, so that we can look serenely in the face of every one, and, if they blame us, answer, "I have done the best I could."

CHAPTER XX.

TWILIGHT.

When Maud had gone far enough to lose sight of Daisy and the dame, she slackened her pace, and looked about to see how beautiful the path had grown.

The trees met in green arches above her head; the road side was sprinkled with lovely flowers, fragrant in the evening air; and the breeze, stirring freshly, gave motion and a sweet, low sound to every thing. Insects were chirping merrily, and stars began to twinkle through the boughs.

Even Maud did not feel lonely; she had much to remember about the fair--all her purchases, all the compliments she had heard paid to her beauty, all Daisy's usefulness, and how sure she would be to make her go again.

But the scene about her grew every moment quieter and more beautiful; so that, leaving her worldly thoughts, a solemn feeling came over Maud, and she began to think of the still more beautiful place which was some time to be her home,--

And then of that Glorious One whom she was to love; mean and coa.r.s.e seemed her earthly lovers when she thought of him, and their compliments vulgar and idle beside his gracious words.

"Ah, if I could but see this Christ once," thought Maud, "so that I might know what would please him, and could always remember him just as he really is! It is strange that he does not come when he must know how I am longing to behold his face."

And, in truth, Maud had never for an hour forgotten her sister's vision, but was constantly thinking what more she could do to make herself attractive when the Beautiful One should come.

She would not go out at noon, for fear of tanning her complexion; she hardly ate enough to live, because of a fancy that angels have very poor appet.i.tes; she gave up the sweet smile which she had preserved with so much care, and looked serious, and even sad. And the foolish girl made it an excuse for not doing her share of the household work, that she could not go to heaven with the stains of labor on her hands.

"What more can he require of me?" thought Maud. "Let him but say, and I will do any thing to serve this greatest of all the angels--will die--will be his slave!"

In the twilight, Maud saw, all at once, beside her a being more beautiful than she had even thought her Christ. He was thin and pale; he looked tired, and there were drops of blood on his forehead and tears in his eyes.

Yet was there something n.o.ble and good about him, that seemed grander than all the beauty of this earth, and melted the heart of the haughty Maud; so that she asked him to come to her cabin for food, and promised to make the old dame give him clothes.

He shook his head, and answered, "I have come to you before, naked, and hungry, and tired, and sad; but you drove me away."

"O, no, you are mistaken," said Maud; "I never saw you in my life before."

"When you refused food and shelter to the poor, old, and wretched, you were starving and freezing me."

"How could I know that?" said Maud, a little peevishly. "But, come, take my hand, and I will lead you where there is shelter and food."

He drew back from the hand she offered. "I cannot touch these fingers; wicked words are written over them."

"No such thing!" said Maud, thoroughly vexed. "There is not a man at the fair but would be proud to take my hand. Read the wicked words, if you can."

"Waste, weakness, indolence, selfishness, scorn, vanity," he read, as if the hand were a book spread out before him.

And then the beautiful being disappeared; and Maud, never dreaming that she had spoken with CHRIST, and hearing her sister's voice not far behind, hurried on quickly, so as to be in the cabin first.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE FAIRY LETTERS.

Maud was so tired of being alone, and so anxious, besides, to ask if Daisy had seen the stranger who disappeared from her, that she ran good naturedly enough to the door, to welcome her sister.

But when she saw the dame's wretched old face, and the little beggar whom she had thrust away so scornfully, and Daisy herself bending under the heavy load of sticks, Maud's wrath came back again.

"Here I shall have to wait an hour for my supper," she complained, "because you chose to lag behind, and tire yourself with bringing burdens for other folks. I should like to know where you will put your precious friends: not in _our_ house--be very sure of that."

But the dame quickly silenced her by asking, "Who has fed, and clothed, and taken care of you and all your kith and kin? Who gave you the gown on your back and the beauty in your cheeks? And when you found your sister lying half dead by the roadside,--as you would have been but for my care,--what were you willing to do for her? O Maud, for shame!"

"She is no sister of mine," answered Maud, making way; however, as she spoke, for the beggar to enter her door.

"Ask Daisy," was the dame's reply.

"O Maud, I was so sorry that you left us," Daisy said; "for the beautiful man I saw in heaven, whom you are to love, came and spoke to me, with a look and words I can never forget in all my life."

"Where was it?" asked the sister eagerly.

"In that part of the road which our father used to call the Church, because the trees made such grand arches overhead, and it was so still and holy, with the stars looking through the boughs. You remember the elm, with the grape vine climbing up among its boughs, and hanging full of fruit: I met him there."