Produced by Wendy Crockett
by ANNE MARCH
"He that goeth on his way weeping, and beareth forth good seed, shalldoubtless come again with joy and bring his sheaves with him."—Psalms cxxvi.
Aunt Faith sat alone on the piazza, and sad thoughts crowded into herheart. It was her birthday,—the first day of June,—and she couldlook back over more than half a century, with that mournful retrospectwhich birthdays are apt to bring. Aunt Faith had seen trouble, and hadmet affliction face to face. When she was still a bride, her husbanddied suddenly and left her lonely forever; then, one by one, herbrothers and sisters had been taken, and she was made sole guardian oftheir orphan children,—a flock of tender little lambs,—to benourished and protected from the cold and the rain, the snare and thepitfalls, the tempter and the ravening wolf ever prowling around thefold. Hugh and Sibyl, Tom and Grace, and, last of all, wild littleBessie from the southern hill-country,—this was her charge. Hugh andSibyl Warrington were the children of an elder brother; Tom and GraceMorris the children of a sister, and Bessie Darrell the only child ofAunt Faith's youngest sister, who had been the pet of all her family.For ten long years Aunt Faith had watched over this little band oforphans, and her heart and hands had been full of care. Children willbe children, and the best mother has her hours of trouble over herwayward darlings; how much more an aunt, who, without the delicatematernal instinct as a guide, feels the responsibility to be doublyheavy!
And now, after years of schooling and training, Aunt Faith and herchildren were all together at home in the old stone house by thelake-shore, to spend a summer of freedom away from books and rules.Hugh was to leave her in the autumn to enter upon business life with acousin in New York city, and Sibyl had been invited to spend thewinter in Washington with a distant relative; Grace was to enterboarding-school in December, and Tom,—well, no one knew exactly whatwas to be done with Tom, but that something must be done, and thatspeedily, every one was persuaded. There remained only Bessie, "andshe is more wilful than all the rest," thought Aunt Faith; "she seemsto be without a guiding principle; she is like a mariner at seawithout a compass, sailing wherever the wind carries her. She isgood-hearted and unselfish; but when I have said that I have said all.Careless and almost reckless, gay and almost wild, thoughtless andalmost frivolous, she seems to grow out of my control day by day andhour by hour. I have tried hard to influence her. I believe she lovesme; but there must be something wrong in my system, for now, at theend of ten years, I begin to fear that she is no better, if indeed,she is as good as she was when she first came to me, a child of sixyears. I must be greatly to blame; I must have erred in my duty. Andyet, I have labored so earnestly!" Another tear stole down AuntFaith's cheek as she thought of the heavy responsibility resting uponher life. "Shall I be able to answer to my brothers and sisters forall these little souls?" she mused. "There is Hugh also. Can I dare tothink he is a true Christ