Chapter 9 Now I have you all to myself, that young lady said, with a happy smile, as she turned the key on the retreating Maggie and wheeled an ottoman to Esther's side. Where shall we commence? I have so very much to say and hear. I want to know all about Aunt Laura and Sadie and the twins. Oh, Esther, you have a little brother.  Why, I don't know, Esther said, hesitatingly, then more decidedly. No, I'm always thinking how glad I should be if he were a young man, old enough to go out with me and be company for me. I know that is pleasant, but there are very serious drawbacks. Now, there's our Ralph. It is very pleasant to have him for company. And yet, well, Esther, he isn't a Christian, and it seems all the time to me that he is walking on quicksands. I'm in one continual tremble for him, and I wish so often that he was just a little boy, no bigger than your brother Alfred. Then I could learn his tastes, and indeed mold them in a measure by having him with me a great deal. And it does seem to me that I could make religion appear such a pleasant thing to him that he couldn't help seeking Jesus for himself. Don't you enjoy teaching Alfred? Poor, puzzled Esther, with what a matter of course error her cousin asked this question. Could she possibly tell her that she sometimes never gave Alfred a thought from one week's end to another, and that she never in her life thought of teaching him a single thing. I am not his teacher, she said at length. I have no time for any such thing. He goes to school, you know, and mother helps him. Well, said Abby, with a thoughtful air, I don't quite mean teaching, either, at least not lessons and things of that sort, though I think I should enjoy having him depend on me in all his needs. But I was thinking more especially of winning him to Jesus. It seems so much easier to do it while one is young. Perhaps he is a Christian now, is he? Esther merely shook her head in answer. She could not look in those earnest blue eyes and say that she had never, by word or act, asked him to come to Jesus. Well, that is what I mean. You have so much more chance than I, it seems to me. Oh, my heart is so heavy for Ralph. I am all alone. Esther, do you know that neither my mother nor my father are Christians, and our home influences, well, is not what a young man needs. He is very gay, they call it. There are his friends here in the city and his friends in college, none of them the style of people that I like him to be with, and only poor little me to stem the tide of worldliness all around him. There is one thing in particular that troubles me. He is, or rather, he is not.  After a moment she spoke again. Oh, Esther, you will learn what I mean without my telling you. It is something in which I greatly need your help. I depend on you. I have looked forward to your coming, on his account, as well as on my own. I know it will be better for him. Esther longed to ask what the something was, and what was expected of her, but the pained look on Abby's face deterred her, and she contented herself by saying, Where is he now? In college, coming next week, I long on his account to have a home of my own. I believe I can show him a style of life which will appear better to him than the one he is leading now. This led to a long talk on the coming wedding. Esther is very much disturbed that it should occur in August, Abby said, and of course it is not as pleasant as it would be later. But the trouble is Mr. Foster is obliged to go abroad in September. Who is Mr. Foster? Can't you be married if he isn't here? Not very well, Abby said, with a bright little laugh. You see, he is the one who has asked me to marry him. Why, is he? And Esther laughed at her former question. Then, as a sudden thought occurred to her, she asked, Is he a minister? Oh, dear no, he is only a merchant. Is he a Christian? was her next query, and so utterly unused was she to conversation on this subject that she actually stammered over the simple sentence.  Esther, Abby said quickly, I couldn't marry a man who was not a Christian. Why, Esther asked, startled a little at the energy of her tone, do you think it is wrong? Perhaps not for everyone. I think one's own carefully enlightened conscience should prayerfully decide the question. But it would be wrong for me. I am too weak. It would hinder my own growth in grace. I feel that I need all the human helps I can get. Yes, Mr. Foster is an earnest Christian. Do you suppose, said Esther, growing metaphysical, that if Mr. Foster were not a Christian, you would marry him? A little shiver quivered through Abby's frame as she answered. I hope I should have strength to do what I thought right, and I believe I should. Yes, you think so now, persisted, Esther, because there is no danger of any such trial. But I tell you, I don't believe, if you were brought to the test, that you would do any such thing. Abby's tone and reply was very humble. Perhaps not. I might miserably fail, and yet, Esther, he has said, my grace is sufficient for thee.  And do you know, Esther, I never believed in making myself a martyr to what might have been, or what might may be, in the future. Sufficient unto the day is my motto. If it should ever be my duty to burn at the stake, I believe I should go to my savior and plead for the sufficient grace. But as long as I have no such known trial before me, I don't know why I should be asking for what I do not need or grow unhappy over improbabilities, though I do pray every day to be prepared for whatever the future has for me. Then the talk drifted back again to the various details connected with the wedding, till suddenly Abby came to her feet with a spring. Why, Esther, she exclaimed penitently, what a thoughtless wretch I am. Here have I been chattering you fairly into midnight without a thought of your tired body and brain. This session must adjourn immediately. Shall you and I have prayers together tonight? Will it seem home-like to you? Can you play I Am Sadie for just a little while? I should like it, Esther answered faintly. Shall I read, as you are so weary, and without waiting for a reply, she unclasped the lids of her little Bible. Are you reading the Bible by course? Where do you like best to read for devotional reading, I mean? I don't know that I have any choice. Esther's voice was fainter still. Haven't you? I have my special verses that I turned to in my various needs. Where are you in Sadie reading? Nowhere, said Esther desperately. Abby's face expressed only innocent surprise. Don't you read together?  Now I always thought it would be so delightful to have a nice little time, like family worship, in one's own room. Sadie doesn't care anything about these things. She isn't a Christian, Esther said at length. Oh dear, isn't she? What a very sad and troubled tone it was in which Abby spoke. Then you know something about my anxiety, and yet it is different.  At least it seems different to me. How prone we are to consider our own anxieties particularly trying. Esther never remembered giving a half-hour's anxious thought to this, which was supposed to be an anxiety with her in all her life. But she did not say so, and Abby continued. Who is your particular Christian friend then? What an exceedingly trying and troublesome talk this was to Esther. What was she to say? Clearly nothing but the truth. Abby, I haven't a friend in the world. You poor, dear child. Then we are situated very much alike after all, though I have dear friends outside of my own family. But what a heavy responsibility you must feel in your large household, and you the only Christian. Do you shrink from responsibility of that kind, Esther? Does it seem sometimes as if it would almost rush you? Oh, there are some Christians in the family, Esther answered, preferring to avoid the last part of the sentence. But then they are half-way Christians, perhaps. I understand how that is. It really seems sadder to me than even thoughtless neglect. She had recorded that Esther's conscience pricked her. This supposition on Abby's part was not true. Dr. Van Anden, for instance, always had seemed to her most horribly and fanatically in earnest. But in what rank should she place this young and beautiful and wealthy city lady? Surely she could not be a fanatic. Esther was troubled. Well, said Abby, suppose I read you some of my sweet verses. Do you know I always feel a temptation to read in John? There is so much in that book about Jesus, and John seemed to love him so. Esther almost laughed.  A temptation to read in any part of the Bible. What a strange girl her cousin was. Now the reading began. This is my verse when I am discouraged. Wait on the Lord, be of good courage, and he shall strengthen nine heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord. Isn't that reassuring? And then these two. Oh, Esther, these are wonderful. I have blotted out as a thick cloud thy transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins. Return to me, for I have redeemed thee. Sing, O ye heavens, for the Lord hath done it. Shout, ye lower parts of the earth. Break forth in singing ye mountains. O forest, and every tree therein. For the Lord hath redeemed Jacob and glorified himself in Israel. And in that glorious Old Prophet's book is my jubilant verse. And the ransom of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads. They shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Now, Esther, you are very tired, aren't you? And I keep dipping into my treasure like a thoughtless, selfish girl as I am. You and I will have some precious readings out of this book, shall we not? Now I'll read you my sweet goodnight psalm. Don't you think the psalms are wonderful, Esther? And without waiting for reply, the low-toned musical voice spread on through that marvel of simplicity and grandeur, the 121st psalm. I will lift up my eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved. He that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall never slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper. The Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil. He shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth and even for evermore. Esther, will you pray? questioned her cousin as the reading ceased and she softly closed her tiny book. Esther gave her head a nervous hurried shake. Then shall I—oh, dear Esther, would you prefer to be alone? No, said Esther. I should like to hear you. And so they knelt and Abbey's simple, earnest, tender prayer Esther carried with her for many a day. After both heads were resting on their pillows and quiet reigned in the room, Esther's eyes were wide open. Her cousin Abbey had astonished her. She was totally unlike the cousin Abbey of her dreams in every particular. In nothing more so than the strangely childlike matter of course way in which she talked about this matter of religion. Esther had never in her life heard any one talk like that, except perhaps that minister who had spoken to her in the depot. His religion seemed not unlike Abbey's. Thinking of him she suddenly addressed Abbey again. There was a minister in the depot today and he spoke to me. Then the entire story of the man with his tract and the girl with blue ribbons and the old lady and the young minister and bits of the conversation were gone over for Abbey's benefit. And Abbey listened and commented and enjoyed every word of it until the little clock on the mantel spoke in silver tones and said, one, two. Then Abbey grew penitent again. Positively, Esther, I won't speak again. You will be sleepy all day tomorrow and you needn't think I shall give you a chance even to wink. Good night. Good night, repeated Esther, but she still kept her eyes wide open. Her journey and her arrival and Abbey and the newness and strangeness of everything around her had banished all thought of sleep. So she went over in detail everything which had occurred that day, but persistently her thoughts returned to the question which had so startled her, coming from the lips of a stranger, and to the singleness of heart which seemed to possess her cousin Abbey. Because she a fellow pilgrim after all, she queried, if so, what caused the difference between Abbey and herself? It was but a few hours since she first beheld her cousin, and yet she distinctly felt the difference between them in that matter. We are as unlike thought Esther, turning restlessly on her pillow, well as unlike as two people can be. What would Abbey say could she know that it was actually months since Esther had read as much connectedly in her Bible as she had heard read that evening? Yes, Esther had gone backward even as far as that. Farther, what would Abbey say to the fact that there were many, many prayerless days in her life? Not very many, perhaps, in which she had not used a form of prayer, but their names were legion in which she had risen from her knees unhelped and unrefreshed, in which she knew that she had not prayed a single one of the sentences which she had been repeating. And just at this point she was stunned with a sudden thought, a thought which too often escapes us all. She could not for the world it seemed to her have made known to Abbey just how matters stood with her, and yet, and yet Christ knew it all. She lay very still and breathed heavily. It came to her with all the thrill of an entirely new idea. Then that unwearyed and ever watchful Satan came to her aid. Oh well, said he, your cousin Abbey's surroundings are very different from yours. Give you all the time which she has at her disposal, and I dare say you would be quite as familiar with your Bible as she is with hers. What does she know about the petty vexations and temptations, and bewildering, ever-pressing duties which every hour of every day beset your path? The circumstances are very different. Her life is in the sunshine, yours in the shadow. Besides, you do not know her. It is easy enough to talk. Very easy to read a chapter in the Bible. But after all, there are other things quite as important, and it is more than likely that your cousin is not quite perfect yet. Esther did not know that this was the soothing lullaby of that old serpent. Well for her if she had, and had answered it with that solemn, all-powerful, get-dee-behind-me Satan. But she gave her own poor brain the benefit of every thought, and having thus lulled, and padded, and coaxed her half-roused and startled conscience into quiet rest again, she turned on her pillow and went to sleep. Chapter 10 of Esther Read This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Esther Read by Pansy. Chapter 10. Esther's Minister Esther was dreaming that the old lady on the cars had become a fairy and that her voice sounded like a silver bell when she suddenly opened her eyes and found that it was either the voice of the marble clock on the mantel or of her cousin Abbey who was bending over her. Do you feel able to get up to breakfast, Esther dear, or had you rather lie in rest? Breakfast echoed Esther, in a sleepy bewilderment, raising herself on one elbow and gazing at her cousin. Yes, breakfast! This with a merry laugh. Did you suppose the people in New York lived without such inconveniences? Oh, to be sure, she was in New York, and Esther repeated the laugh. It had sounded so clearly to hear any one talk about her getting up to breakfast. It had not seemed possible that that meal could be prepared without her assistance. Yes, certainly I will get up at once. Have I kept you waiting, Abbey? Oh, no, not at all. Generally we breakfast at nine, but Mother gave orders last night to delay till half past nine this morning. Esther turned to the little clock in great amazement. It was actually ten minutes to nine. What an idea! She never remembered sleeping so late in her life before. Why, at home, the work in the dining room and kitchen must all be done by this time, and Sadie was probably making beds. Poor Sadie, what a time she would have. She will learn a little about life while I'm away, thought Esther complacently as she stood before the mirror and pinned the dainty frill on her new pink cambrick wrapper which Sadie's deft fingers had fashioned for her. Esther had declined the assistance of Maggie, feeling that though she knew perfectly well how to make her own toilet, she did not know how to receive assistance in the matter. Now I will leave you for a while, Abbey said, taking up her tiny Bible. Esther, where is your Bible? I suppose you have it with you? Esther looked annoyed. I don't believe I have, she said hurriedly. I packed in such haste you see, and I don't remember putting it in at all. Oh, I am sorry, you will miss it so much. Do you have a thousand little private marks in your Bible that nobody else understands? I have a great habit of reading in that way. Well, I'll bring you one from the library that you may mark just as much as you please. Esther sat herself down with a very complacent air beside the open window with the Bible which had just been brought her in her lap. Clearly she had been left alone that she might have opportunity for private devotion, and she liked the idea very much. To be sure she had not been in the habit of reading in the Bible in the morning, but that, she told herself, was simply because she never had time hardly to breathe in the mornings at home. There she had beef steak to cook and breakfast rolls to attend to, she said disdainfully, as if beef steak and breakfast rolls were the most contemptible articles in the world entirely beneath the notice of a rational being. But now she was in a very different atmosphere, and at nine o'clock of a summer morning was attired in a very becoming pink wrapper, fashioned with the widest of frills, and sat at her window a young lady of elegant leisure waiting for the breakfast bell. Of course she would read a chapter in the Bible now and should enjoy it quite as much as Abby did. She had never learned that happy little habit of having a much-used, much-worn, much-loved Bible for her own personal and private use, full of pencil marks and sacred meanings, grown dear from association and teeming with memories of precious communings. She had one, of course, a nice, proper-looking Bible, and if it chanced to be convenient when she was ready to read, she used it. If not she took Sadie's or picked up Julius from under the table or the old one on the shelf in the corner with the one cover and part of Revelation missing. It mattered not one wit to her witch, for there were no pencil marks and no leaves turned down and no special verses to find. She thought the idea of marking certain verses an excellent one and deciding to commence doing so at once cast about her for a pencil. There was one on the round table by the other window, but there were also many other things. Abby's watch lay ticking softly on its marble and velvet bed and had to be examined and sighed over, and Abby's diamond pin in the jewel case also demanded attention. Then there was some blue and gold volumes to be peeped at, and Longfellow received more than a peep. Then, most witching of all, Sey and Seal, in two volumes, the very books Sadie had borrowed once and returned before Esther had a chance to discover how faith managed about the ring. Longfellow and the Bible slid on the table together, and Sey and Seal was eagerly seized upon just to be glanced over, and the glances continued till there peeled a bell through the house, and with a start and a confused sense of having neglected her opportunities, this Christian young lady followed her cousin downstairs to meet all the temptations and bewilderments of a new day, unstrengthened by communion with either her Bible or her Savior. That breakfast, in all its details, was a most bewitching affair. Esther felt that she could never enjoy that meal again at a table that was not small and round, and covered with the mask nor drink coffee that had not first flowed gracefully down from a silver urn. As for Aunt Helen, she could have dispensed with her.  Where is Uncle Ralph, she asked suddenly, coming conscious that there were only three when last evening there were four. Gone downtown some hours ago, Abby answered, he is a businessman, you know, and cannot keep such late hours. But does he go without breakfast? No, he takes it at seven instead of nine like our lazy selves. She used to breakfast at a restaurant downtown like other businessmen, further explained Aunt Helen, observing the bewildered look of this novice in city life. But it is one of Abby's recent whims that she can make him more comfortable at home, so they rehearsed the interesting scene of breakfast by gaslight every morning. Abby's clear laugh rang out merrily at this.  Esther, fancy gaslight at seven o'clock on an august morning. Do you get downstairs at seven o'clock, was Esther's only reply? Yes, at six or at most half past. You see, if I am to make father as comfortable at home as he would be at a restaurant, I must flutter around a little. Burns her cheeks and her fingers over the stove continued Aunt Helen in a disgusted tone, in order that her father may have burnt toast prepared by her hands. You've blundered in one item, mother, was Abby's good humored reply. My toast is never burnt, and only this morning father pronounced it perfect. Oh, she is developing, answered Mrs. Reed with a curious mixture of annoyance and amusement in look and tone. If Mr. Foster fails in business soon, as I presume he will, judging from his present rate of proceeding, we shall find her advertising for the position of first-class cook in a small family. If Abby felt wounded or vexed over this thrust at Mr. Foster, it showed itself only by a slight deepening of the pink on her cheek, as she answered in the brightest of tones, If I do, mother, and you engage me, I'll promise you that the eggs shall not be boiled as hard as these are. All this impressed two thoughts on Esther's mind, one that Abby, for some great reason unknown to and unimagined by herself, actually of her own free will, arose early every morning and busied herself over preparations for her father's breakfast. The other, that Abby's mother said some disagreeable things to her in a disagreeable way, a way that would exceedingly provoke her and that she wouldn't endure, she said to herself with energy. These two thoughts so impressed themselves, that when she and Abby were alone again, they led her to ask two questions. Why do you get breakfast at home for your father, Abby? Is it necessary? No, only I like it and he likes it.  Besides, Esther, it is my one hour of opportunity with my father. I almost never see him alone at any other time, and I am constantly praying that the spirit will make use of some little word or act of mind to lead him to the cross. There was no reply to be made to this, so Esther turned to the other question.  She thinks some of his schemes of benevolence are on too large a scale to be prudent, but he is a very prudent man and doesn't seem to think so at all. Doesn't it annoy you to have her speak in that manner about him? The ever-ready color flushed into Abby's cheeks again, and after a moment's hesitation, she answered gently. I think it would, Esther, if she were not my own mother, you know. Another rebuke. Esther felt vexed anyway. This new strange cousin of hers was going to prove painfully good. But her first day in New York, despite the strangeness of everything, was full of delight to her. They did not go out as Esther was supposed to be wearied from her journey, though in reality she never felt better, and she reveled all day in a sense of freedom, of doing exactly as she pleased and indeed of doing nothing. This last was an experience so new and strange to her that it seemed delightful. Esther's round of home duties had been so constant and pressing, the rebound was extreme. It seemed to her that she could never bake any more pies and cakes in that great oven, and she actually shuddered over the thought that, if she were home, she would probably be engaged in ironing while Maggie did the heavier work. She went to fanning most vigorously as this occurred to her, and sank back among the luxurious cushions of Abby's easy chair, as if exhausted. Then she pitied herself most industriously and envied Abby more than ever, and gave no thought at all to Mother and Sadie, who were working so much harder than usual, in order that she might sit here at ease. At last she decided to dismiss every one of these uncomfortable thoughts, to forget that she had ever spent an hour of her life in a miserable, hot kitchen, but to give herself entirely and unreservedly to the charmed life, which stretched out before her for three beautiful weeks. Three weeks is quite a little time after all, she told herself, hopefully. Three weeks ago I hadn't the least idea of being here, and who knows what may happen in the next three weeks? Ah, sure enough, Esther, who knows? When am I to see Mr. Foster, she inquired of Abby, as they came up together from the dining-room after lunch? Why, you'll see him tonight if you're not too tired to go out with me. I was going to ask about that. I'm ready for anything. Don't feel as if I ever experienced the meaning of that word, said Esther briskly, rejoiced at the prospect of going anywhere. Well then, I shall carry you off to our Thursday evening prayer meeting.  We teachers in the mission. There are fifty of us, and we do have the most delightful times. It is like a family, rather a large family, perhaps you think, but it doesn't seem so when we come on Sabbath from the great congregation and gather in our dear little chapel. We seem like a company of brothers and sisters, shutting ourselves in at home, to talk and pray together for a little, before we go out into the world again. Is Thursday your regular prayer meeting evening, Esther? Now it would have been very difficult for Esther to tell when her regular prayer meeting evening was, as it was so long ago that she grew out of the habit of regularly attending, that now she scarcely ever gave it a thought. But she had sufficient conscience left to be ashamed of this state of things, and to understand that Abby referred to the church prayer meeting, so she answered simply, No Wednesday. That is our church prayer meeting night. I missed it last evening because I wanted to welcome you, and Tuesday is our Bible class night. You give three evenings a week to religious meetings, Abby? Yes, said Abby with softly glee. Isn't it splendid? I appreciate my privileges. I assure you, so many people could not do it. And so many people would not, Esther thought. So they were not into dinner with the family, but took theirs in an hour earlier, and with David, whom Abby called her bodyguard for escort, made their way to Abby's dear little chapel, which proved to be a good-sized church, very pridly finished and furnished. That meeting from first to last was a succession of surprises to Esther, commencing with the leader, and being announced to Abby in undertone. Your minister is the very man who spoke to me yesterday in the depot. Abby nodded and smiled her surprise at this information, and Esther looked about her, presently another whisper. Why, Abby, there is the blue-ribboned girl I told you about, sitting in the third seat from the front. That, said Abby, looking and whispering back, is Fanny Ames, one of our teachers. Presently Esther set to work to select Mr. Foster from the rows of young men who were rapidly filling the front seats in the left aisle. I believe that one in glasses and brown kids is he, she said to herself, regarding him curiously, and as if to reward her penetration, he rose suddenly and came over, book in hand, to the seat directly in front of where they were sitting. Good evening, Abby, was his greeting. We want to sing this hymn and have not the tune. Can you lead it without the notes? Why, yes, answered Abby slowly and with a little hesitation. That is, if you will help me. We'll all help, he said, smiling and returning to his seat. Yes, I'm sure that is he, commented Esther. Then the meeting commenced. It was a novel one. One person at least had never attended any just like it. Instead of the chapter of proper length, which Esther thought all ministers selected for public reading, this reader read just three verses, and he did not even rise from his seat to do it, nor use the pulpit Bible, but read from a bit of a book which he took from his pocket. Then the man in spectacles started a hymn, which Esther judged was the one which had no notes attached from the prompt manner in which Abby took up the very first word. Now, said the leader briskly, before we pray, let us have requests. And almost before he had concluded the sentence, a young man responded, Remember especially a boy in my class who seems disposed to turn every serious word into ridicule.  Remember my little brother who is thinking earnestly of those things, another gentleman said, speaking quickly as if he realized that he must hasten or lose his chance. Pray for every one of my class, I want them all. And at this Esther actually started, for the petition came from the lips of the blue ribboned fanny in the corner. A lady actually taking part in a prayer meeting when gentlemen were present, how very improper. She glanced around her nervously, but no one else seemed in the least surprised or disturbed. And indeed another young lady immediately followed her with a similar request. Now, said the leader, let us pray. And that prayer was so strange in its sounding to Esther, it did not commence by reminding God that he is the maker and ruler of the universe, or that he was omnipotent and omnipresent and eternal, or any of the solemn forms of prayer to which her ears were used. But simply, O dear Savior, receive these petitions which we bring. Turn to thyself the heart of the lad who ridicules the efforts of his teacher. Lead the little brother to the straight and narrow way. Gather that entire class into thy heart of love, and thus for each separate request a separate petition, and as the meeting progressed it grew more strange every moment to Esther. Each one seemed to have a word that he was eager to utter. And the prayers, while very brief, were so pointed as to be almost startling. They sang, too, a great deal, only a verse at a time, and whenever they seemed to feel like it, her amazement reached its height when she felt a little rustle beside her and turned in time to see the eager light in Abby's eyes as she said, One of my class has decided for Christ. Good news, responded the leader. Don't let us forget this item of thanksgiving when we pray. As for Esther, she was almost inclined not to believe her ears. Had her cousin Abby actually spoken in meeting? She was about to sink into a reverie over this, but hadn't time, for at this point the leader arose. I am sorry, said he, to cut the thread that binds us, but the hour is gone. Another week will soon pass, though, and, God willing, we shall take up the story sing. And a soft, sweet chant stole through the room. Let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense, and the lifting of my hands as evening sacrifice. Then the little company moved with quiet cheerfulness toward the door. Have you enjoyed the evening, Abby asked in an eager tone, as they passed down the aisle? Why, yes, I believe so, only it was rather queer. Queer, was it? How? Oh, I'll tell you when we get home. Your minister is exactly behind us, Abby, and I guess he wants to speak with you.  End of Chapter 10, Recording by Tricia G. Chapter 11 of Esther Read This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Esther Read by Pansy Chapter 11, The New Border I don't know what to decide, really, Mrs. Read said thoughtfully, standing with an irresolute air beside the pantry door. Sadie, hadn't I better make these pies? Is that the momentous question which you cannot decide, mother? Mrs. Read laughed. Not quite, it is about the new border. We have room enough for another, certainly, and seven dollars a week is quite an item just now. If Esther were home, I shouldn't hesitate. Mother, if I weren't the meekest and most enduring of mortals, I should be hopelessly vexed by this time at the constancy with which your thoughts turn to Esther. It is positively insulting, as if I were not doing remarkably. Do you put anything else in apple pies? I never mean to have one, by the way, in my house. I think they're horrid, crust, apples, nutmeg, little lumps of butter all over it. Is there anything else, mother, before I put the top on? Sometimes I sweeten mine a little, Mrs. Read answered demurely. Oh, sure enough, it was that new border that took all my thoughts of sweetness out of me. How much sugar, mother? Do let him come.  It is time we had a new element in it. Besides, you know I broke the largest platter yesterday, and his seven dollars will help buy another. I wish he was anything but a doctor, though. One ingredient of that kind is enough in a family, especially of the stamp which we have at present. Sadie, said Mrs. Read gravely and reprovingly. I never knew a young man for whom I have a greater respect than I have for Dr. Van Anden. Yes, ma'am, answered Sadie with equal gravity. I have an immense respect for him, I assure you, and so I have for the President, and I feel about as intimate with the one as the other. I hope Dr. Douglas will be delightfully wild and wicked. How will Dr. Van Anden enjoy the idea of arrival? I spoke of it to him yesterday. I told him we wouldn't give the matter another thought, if it would in any way be unpleasant to him. I thought we owed him that consideration in return for all his kindness to us, but he assured me that it could make not the slightest difference to him. Do let him come, then. I believe I need another bed to make. I'm growing thin for want of exercise. And, by the way, that suggests an item in his favor. Being a doctor, he would be out all night occasionally, perhaps, and the bed won't need making so often. Mother, I do believe I didn't put a speck of soda in that cake I made this morning. What will that do to it? Or, more properly speaking, what will it not do in as much as it is not there to do? As for Esther, I shall consider it a personal insult if you refer to her again, when I am so magnificently filling her space. And this much enduring mother laughed and groaned at nearly the same time. Poor Esther never forgot the soda, nor indeed anything else, in her life. But then Sadie was so overflowing with sparkle and good humor. Finally the question was decided and the new border came, and was duly installed in the family, and thence commenced a new era in Sadie's life. Mary clerks and schoolboys she counted among her acquaintances by the score. Grave, dignified, slightly tasseturned men of the Dr. Van Andenstam, she numbered also among her friends. But never one quite like Dr. Douglas, this easy, graceful, courteous gentleman, who seemed always to have just the right thing to say or do at just the right moment, who was neither wild nor sober, who seemed the furthest possible removed from wicked, yet who was never by any chance disagreeably good. His acquaintance with Sadie progressed rapidly. A new element had come to mix in with her life. The golden days wherein the two sisters had been much together, wherein the Christian sister might have planted much seed for the master in Sadie's bright young heart, had all gone by. Her chance that sleeping Christian nestled so causally among the cushions in Cousin Abbey's morning-room might have been startled and aroused, could she have realized that days like those would never come back to her, that being misspent they had passed away, that a new worker had come to drop seed into the unoccupied heart, that never again would Sadie be as fresh and as guileless and as easily won as in those days which she had let slip in idle, I worse than idle slumber. Sadie sealed and directed a letter to Esther and ran with it downstairs. Dr. Douglas stood in the doorway, hat in hand. Shall I have the pleasure of being your carrier? he said courteously. Do you suppose you are to be trusted? Sadie questioned, as she quietly deposited the letter in his hat. That depends in a great measure on whether you repose trust in me. The world is safer in general than we are inclined to think it. Who lives in that little bird's nest of a cottage just across the way? A dear old gentleman, Mr. Vane, Sadie answered, her voice taking a tender tone, as it always did when any chance word reminded her of Florence. That is, he standing in the gateway. Doesn't he look like a grand old patriarch? As they looked, Dr. Van Anden drove suddenly from around the corner and reigned in his horses in front of the opposite gateway. They could hear his words distinctly. Mr. Vane, let me advise you to avoid this evening breeze. It is blowing up strongly from the river. Is Dr. Van Anden the old gentleman's nurse or guardian or what? questioned Sadie's companion. Physician was her brief reply. Then, after a moment, she laughed mischievously. You don't like Dr. Van Anden, Dr. Douglas? I? Oh yes, I like him. The trouble is he doesn't like me, for which he is not to blame, to be sure. Probably he cannot help it. I have in some way succeeded in gaining his ill will. Why do you think I am not one of his admirers? Oh! answered this rude and lawless girl. I thought it would be very natural for you to be slightly jealous of him, professionally, you know. If her object was to embarrass or annoy Mr. Douglas, apparently she did not gain her point. He laughed good humoredly as he replied. Professionally he is certainly worthy of envy. I regard him as a very skillful physician, misread. Air Sadie could reply. The horses were stopped before the door, and Dr. Van Anden addressed her. Sadie, do you want to take a ride? Now, although Sadie had no special interest in, or friendship for, Dr. Van Anden, she did exceedingly like his horses and cultivated their acquaintance whenever she had an opportunity. So within five minutes after this invitation was received, she was skimming over the road in a high state of glee. Sadie marked that night afterwards as the last one in which she rode after those black ponies for many a day. The doctor seemed more at leisure than usual, and in a much more talkative mood. So it was quite a merry ride, until he broke a moment's silence by an abrupt question. Sadie, haven't your mother in you always considered me a sincere friend to your family? Sadie's reply was prompt and to the point. Certainly, Dr. Van Anden, I assure you I have as much respect for and confidence in you as I should have had for my grandfather, if I had ever known him. That being the case, continued the doctor gravely, you will give me credit for sincerity and earnestness in what I am about to say. I want to give you a word of warning concerning Dr. Douglas. He is not a man whom I can respect, not a man with whom I should like to see my sister on terms of friendship. I have known him well and long, Sadie, therefore I speak. Sadie Reed was never fretful, never petulant, and very rarely angry. But when she was, it was a genuine case of unrestrained rage and woe to the individual who fell a victim to her blazing eyes and sarcastic tongue. Tonight Dr. Van Anden was that victim. What right had he to arraign her before him, and say with whom she should or should not associate, as if he were indeed her very grandfather? What business had he to think that she was too friendly with Dr. Douglas? With the usual honesty belonging to very angry people, it had not once occurred to her that Dr. Van Anden had said and done none of these things. When she felt that her voice was sufficiently steady, she spoke. I am happy to be able to assure you, Dr. Van Anden, you are very kind, extremely so. But as yet, I really feel myself in no danger from Dr. Douglas's fascinations, however remarkable they may be. My mother and I enjoy excellent health at present, so you'd need have no anxiety as regard to our choice of physicians. Although it is but natural that you should feel nervous perhaps, but you will pardon me for saying that I consider your interference with my affairs unwarrantable and uncalled for. If Dr. Van Anden desired to reply to this insulting harangue, there was no opportunity, for at this moment they whirled around the corner and were at home. Sadie flung aside her hat with an angry vehemence, and, seating herself at the piano, literally stormed the keys while the doctor re-entered his carriage and quietly proceeded to his evening round of calls. What a whirlwind of rage there was in Sadie's heart. What earthly right had this man whom she detested to give her advice? Was she a child to be commanded by anyone? What right had anyone to speak in that way of Dr. Douglas? He was a gentleman, certainly, much more of one than Dr. Van Anden had shown himself to be, and she liked him. Yes, she would like him in spite of a whole legion of envious doctors. A light step crossed the hall and entered the parlor. Sadie merely raised her eyes long enough to be certain that Dr. Douglas stood beside her and continued her playing. He leaned over the piano and listened. Had you a pleasant ride? He asked as the tone of the music lulled a little.  I judged by the style of music which you are playing that there must have been a hurricane. Nothing of the sort, only a little paternal advice. Indeed, have you been taken into his kindly care? I congratulate you. Sadie was still very angry, or she would never have been guilty of the shocking impropriety of her next remark, but it is a lamentable fact that people will say and do very strange things when they are angry, things of which they have occasion to repent in cooler moments. Fixing her bright eyes full and searchingly on Dr. Douglas, she said abruptly, he was warning me against the impropriety of associating with your dangerous self. A look as of sadness and deep pain crossed Dr. Douglas' face, and he thought aloud, rather than said, Is that man determined I shall have no friends? Sadie was touched. She struck soft, sweet chords with a slow and gentle movement as she asked. What is your offence in his eyes, Dr. Douglas? Then indeed Dr. Douglas seemed embarrassed, maintaining, though, a sort of hesitating dignity as he attempted a reply. Why, I, he, I would rather not tell you, Ms. Reed, it sounds badly. Then, with a little, slightly mournful laugh, and that half-admission sounds badly too, worse than the simple truth, perhaps. Well, then, I had the misfortune to cross his path professionally once, a little matter, a slight mistake, not worth repeating. Neither would I repeat it, if it were, in honor to him. He is a man of skill, and since then has risen high. One would not suppose that he would give that little incident of the past a thought now, but he seems never to have forgiven me. The music stopped entirely, and Sadie's great truthful eyes were fixed in horror on his face. Is it possible, she said at length, that that is all, and he can bear such determined ill will toward you? And they call him an earnest Christian. At which remarked Dr. Douglas laughed a slow, quick laugh, as if he found it quite impossible to restrain his mirth, and then became instantly grave, and said, I beg your pardon. For what, Dr. Douglas, and why did you laugh? For laughing, and I laughed, because I could not restrain a feeling of amusement at your innocently connecting his unpleasant state of mind with his professions of Christianity. Should they not be connected? Well, that depends on how much importance you attached to them. Dr. Douglas, what do you mean? Treason, I suspect, viewed from your standpoint, and therefore it would be much more proper for me not to talk about it. But I want you to talk about it. Do you mean to say that you have no faith in anyone's religion? How much have you? Dr. Douglas, that is a very yanky way of answering a question. I know, but it is the easiest way of reaching my point. So I repeat, how much faith have you in these Christian professions? Or, in other words, how many professing Christians do you know who are particularly improved in your estimation by their professions? The old questioning of Sadie's own heart brought before her again. Oh, Christian sister, with whom so many years of her life had been spent, with whom she had been so closely connected, if she could but have turned to you and remembering your earnest life, your honest endeavors toward the right, your earnest struggles with sin and self, the evident marks of the Lord Jesus all about you, and remembering this, have quelled the tempter in human form, who stood waiting for a verdict with a determined, I have known one, what might not have been gained for your side that night. As it was, she hesitated, and thought, not of Esther, her life had not been such as to be counted for a moment, of her mother. Well, Mrs. Reed's religion had been of a negative rather than of a positive sort, at least outwardly. She never spoke much of these matters, and Sadie positively did not know whether she ever prayed or not. How was she to decide whether the gentle, patient life was the outgrowth of religion in her heart, or whether it was a natural sweetness of disposition and tenderness of feeling? Then there was Dr. Van Anden, an hour ago she would surely have said him, but now it was impossible. So as the silence and the peculiar smile on Dr. Douglas' face grew uncomfortable, she answered hurriedly, I don't know many Christian people, doctor, and then more truthfully, but I don't consider those with whom I am acquainted in any degree remarkable, yet at the same time I don't choose to set down the entire Christian world as a company of miserable hypocrites. Not at all, the doctor answered quickly. I assure you I have many friends among that class of people whom I respect and esteem, but since you have pressed me to continue this conversation, I must frankly confess to you that my esteem is not based on the fact that they are called Christians. I, but misread, this is entirely unlike and beneath me to interfere with and shake your innocent trusting faith. I would not do it for the world. Sadie interrupted him with an impatient shake of her head. Don't talk nonsense, Dr. Douglas, if you can help it. I don't feel innocent at all, just now at least, and I have no particular faith to shake. If I had, I hope you would not consider it such a flimsy material as to be shaken by anything which you have said as yet. I certainly have heard no arguments. Occasionally I think of these matters, and I have been surprised and not a little puzzled, to note the strange inconsistency existing between the profession and practice of these people. If you have any explanation, I would like to hear it. That is all. Clearly this man must use at least a semblance of sense if he were going to continue this conversation. His answer was grave and guarded. I have offered no arguments, nor do I mean to. I was apologizing for having touched upon this matter at all. I am unfortunate in my belief, or rather disbelief, but it is no part of my intention to press it upon others. I incline to the opinion that there are some very good, nice, pleasant people in the world whom the accidents of birth and education have taught to believe that they are aided in this goodness and pleasantness by a more than human power, and this belief rather helps than otherwise to mature their naturally sweet, pure lives. My explanation of their seeming inconsistencies is that they have never realized the full moral force of the rules which they profess to follow. I divide the world into two distinct classes, the so-called Christian world, I mean. Those whom I have just named constitute one class, and the other is composed of unmitigated hypocrites. Now, my friend, I have talked longer on this subject than I like, or than I ought. I beg you will forget all I have said and give me some music to close the scene. Sadie laughed and ran her fingers lightly over the keys, but she asked, In which class do you place your brother in the profession, doctor? Dr. Douglas drew his shoulder into a very slight, though expressive shrug, as he answered. It is exceedingly proper, and also rather rare, for a physician to be eminent not only for skill but piety, and my brother practitioner is a wise and wary man who, and here he paused abruptly. Miss Reed, he added after a moment, in an entirely changed tone. Which of us is at fault tonight? You were myself that I seem bent on making uncharitable remarks. I really did not imagine myself so totally depraved. And to be serious, I am very sorry that this style of conversation was ever commenced. I did not intend it. I do not believe in interfering with the beliefs or contributing the opinions of others. Apparently Sadie had recovered her good humor, for her laugh was as light and careless as usual when she made answer. Don't distress yourself unnecessarily, Dr. Douglas. You haven't done me the least harm. I assure you I don't believe a word you say, and I do you the honor of believing that you don't credit more than two-thirds of it yourself.  In the keys rattled and rang under her touch, and drew half a dozen loungers from the halls to the parlor, and effectually ended the conversation. Three people belonging to that household held each a conversation with their own thoughts that night, which to finite eyes would have aided the right wonderfully, had it been said before the assembled three, instead of in the quiet and privacy of their own rooms. Sadie had calmed down, and as a natural consequence, was somewhat ashamed of herself, and as she rolled up and pinned and otherwise snugged her curls into order for the night, scolded herself after this fashion.    That's one comfort, and besides you have probably offended those delightful black ponies, and it will be forever before they will take you another ride, and that's worse than all the rest. But who would think of Dr. Van Anden being such a man? I wish Dr. Douglas had gone to Europe before he told me. It was rather pleasant to believe in the extreme goodness of somebody.  Perhaps he is half right. Only I'm not going to think any such thing, because it would be wicked, and I'm good. And because, in a graver tone and with a little reverent touch of the old worn book which lay on her bureau, this is my father's Bible, and he lived and died by its precepts. Up another flight of stairs in his own room Dr. Douglas lighted his cigar, fixed himself comfortably in his armchair with his feet on the dressing table, and between the puffs talked after this fashion. Sorry we ran into this miserable train of talk tonight, but that young witch leads a man on so. I'm glad she has a decided mind of her own. One feels less conscious stricken.  I shan't lead her astray. I wouldn't have said anything tonight if it hadn't been for that miserable hypocrite of a Van Anden. The fellow must learn not to pitch into me if he wants to be let alone. But I doubt if he accomplished much this time. What a witch she is. And Dr. Douglas removed his cigar long enough to give vent to a hearty laugh in remembrance of some of Sadie's remarks. Just across the hall Dr. Van Anden sat before his table, one hand partly shading his eyes from the gaslight while he read. And the words which he read were these, O let not the oppressed return to shamed, let the poor and needy praise thy name. Arise, O God, plead thine own cause. Remember how the foolish man reproaches thee daily. Forget not the voice of thine enemies, the tumult of those that rise up against thee increaseeth continually. Something troubled the doctor tonight. His usually grave face was tinged with sadness. Presently he arose and paced with slow measured tread up and down the room. I ought to have done it, he said at last. I ought to have told her mother that he was in many ways an unsafe companion for Sadie, especially in this matter. He is a very cautious, guarded, fascinating skeptic. All the more fascinating because he will be careful not to shock her taste with any boldly spoken errors. I should have warned them. How came I to shrink so miserably from my duty? What mattered it that they would be likely to ascribe a wrong motive to my caution? It was nonetheless my duty on that account. And the sad look deepened on his face as he marched slowly back and forth, but he was nearer a solution of his difficulties than was either of those others, for at last he came over to his chair again and sank before it on his knees. Now let us understand these three people, each of them, in their separate ways, were making mistakes. Sadie had said that she was not going to believe any of the nonsense which Dr. Douglas talked. She honestly supposed that she was not influenced in the least. And yet she was mistaken. The poison had entered her soul. As the days passed on, she found herself more frequently caviling over the shortcomings of professing Christians, more quick to detect their mistakes and failures, more willing to admit the half-uttered thought that this entire matter might be a smooth-sounding fable. Sadie was the child of many prayers, and her father's much-used Bible lay on her dressing table, speaking for him, now that his tongue was silent in the grave. So she did not quite yield to the enemy, but she was walking in the way of temptation, and the Christian tongues around her, which the grave had not silenced, yet remained as mute as though their lips were already sealed, and so the path in which Sadie walked grew daily broader and more dangerous. Then there was Dr. Douglas, not by any means the worst man that the world can produce. He was, or fancied himself to be, a skeptic. Like many a young man, wise in his own conceit, he had no very distinct idea of what he was skeptical about, nor to what heights of illogical nonsense his own supposed views carried out would lead him. Like many other too, he had studied rhetoric and logic and mathematics and medicine thoroughly and well. He would have hesitated long and studied hard and pondered deeply before he had ventured to dispute an established point in surgery, and yet with an inconsistent folly of the age he had absurdly set his seal to the falsity of the Bible after giving it at most but a careless reading here and there, and without having ever once honestly made use of the means by which God has promised to enlighten the seekers after knowledge.  He thought himself sincere. He had no desire to lead Sadie astray from her early education, and, like most skeptical natures, he quite prided himself upon the care with which he guarded his peculiar views, although I could never see why that was being any other than miserably selfish or inconsistent, for it is, saying in effect, one of two things. Either my belief is sacred to myself alone, and nobody else shall have the benefit of it if I can help it, or else I am very much ashamed of my position as a skeptic, and I shall keep it to myself as much as possible. Be that as it may, Dr. Douglas so thought and was sincere in his attentions to do Sadie no harm. Yet, as the days came and went, he was continually doing her injury. They were much in each other's society, and the subject which he meant should be avoided was constantly intruding. Both were so constantly on the alert to see and hear the unwise and inconsistent and unchristian acts and words, and also, alas, there were so many to be seen and heard, that these two made rapid strides in the broad road. Finally there was Dr. Van Anden, carrying about with him a sad and heavy heart. He could but feel that he had shrunken from his duty, hidden behind the most miserable of all excuses, what will people think? If Dr. Douglas had had any title but that particular one prefixed to his name, he would not have hesitated to have advised Mrs. Reed concerning him. But how could he endure the suspicion that he was jealous of Dr. Douglas? Then, in trying to right the wrong by warning Sadie, he was made to realize, as many a poor Christian has realized before him, that he was making the sacrifice too late and in vain. There was yet another thing. Dr. Douglas's statements to Sadie had been colored with truth. Among his other honest mistakes was the belief that Dr. Van Anden was a hypocrite. They had clashed in former years. Dr. Douglas had been most in the wrong, though what man, unhelped by Christ, was ever known to believe this of himself. But there had been wrong also on the other side, hasty words spoken, words which rankled and were ranking still after the lapse of years. Dr. Van Anden had never said, I should not have spoken thus, I am sorry. He had taught himself to believe that it would be an unnecessary humiliation for him to say this to a man who had so deeply wronged him. But, to do our Dr. Justice, time had healed the wound with him. It was not personal enmity which prompted his warning. Neither had he any idea of the injury which those sharp words of his were doing in the unsanctified heart. And when he dropped upon his knees that night, he prayed earnestly for the conversion of Sadie and Dr. Douglas. So these three lived their lives under the same roof and guessed not what the end might be. Chapter 12 Recording by Tricia G. Chapter 13 of Esther Read. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Esther Read by Pansy. Chapter 13 The Strange Christian Abby, said Esther, wriggling herself around from before an open trunk and letting a mass of collars and cuffs slide to the floor in her earnestness. Do you know I think you're the very strangest girl I ever knew in my life? I'm sure I did not, Abby answered gaily. If it's a nice strange, do tell me about it. I like to be nice, ever so much. Well, but I am in earnest, Abby. You certainly are. These very collars made me think of it. Oh, dear me, they are all on the floor, and she reached down after the shining, sliding things. Abby came and sat down beside her, presently, with a mass of puffy lace in her hands, which she was putting into shape. Suppose we have a little talk all about myself, she said gently and seriously. And please tell me, Esther, plainly and simply, what you mean by the term strange. Do you know I have heard it so often that sometimes I fear I really am painfully unlike other people. You are just the one to enlighten me. Esther laughed a little as she answered. You are taking the matter very seriously. I did not mean anything dreadful. Ah, but you are not to be excused in that way, my dear Esther. I look to you for information. Mother has made the remark a great many times, but it is generally connected in some way with religious topics, and Mother, you know, is not a Christian. Therefore I have thought that perhaps some things seem strange to her, which would not to you, for instance. But since you have been here, you have spoken your surprise concerning me several times, and looked it oftener. And today I find that even my stiff and glossy and every way proper collars and cups excite it. So do please tell me, ought I to be in a lunatic asylum somewhere instead of preparing to go to Europe? Now although Esther laughed again at the mixture of comic and pathetic in Abby's tone, yet something in the words had evidently embarrassed her. There was a little struggle in her mind, and then she came boldly forth with her honest thoughts. Well, the strangeness is connected with religious topics in my mind also. Even though I am a professing Christian, I do not understand you.  I don't care for these things in the least. But if I had the money as you have, there are a great many things which I should certainly have. You see, there is no earthly sense in your economy, and yet you hesitate over expenses almost as much as I do. There was a little gleam of mischief in Abby's eyes as she answered. Will you tell me, Esther, why you would take the trouble to get these things, if you do not care for them in the least? Why, because they would be proper and befitting my station in life. Do I dress in a manner unbecoming to my station in life? No, said Esther promptly, admiring even then the crimson finishings of her cousin's morning robe. But then, well, Abby, do you think it is wicked to like nice things? No, Abby answered very gently. But I think it is wrong to school ourselves into believing that we do not care for anything of the kind, when in reality it is a higher, better motive which deters us from having many things. Forgive me, Esther, but I think you are unjust sometimes to your better self in this very way. Esther gave a little start and realized for the first time in her life that, truth-loving girl though she was, she had been practicing a pretty little deception of this kind and actually palming it off on herself. In a moment, however, she returned to the charge. But Abby, did Aunt Helen really want you to have that pearl velvet we saw at Stewart's? She really did. And you refused it? And I refused it. Well, is that to be set down as a matter of religion too? This question was asked with very much of Esther's old sharpness of tone. Abby answered her with a look of amazement. I think we don't understand each other, she said at length, with the gentlest of tones. That dress, Esther, with all its belongings, could not have cost less than seven hundred dollars. Could I, a follower of the meek and lowly Jesus, living in a world where so many of his poor are suffering, have been guilty of wearing such a dress as that? My dear, I don't think you sustain the charge against me thus far. I see now how these pretty little collar, and by the way, Esther, you are crushing one of them against that green box, suggested the thought. But you surely do not consider it strange, when I have such an array of collars already, that I did not pay thirty dollars for that bit of a cobweb which we saw yesterday. But Aunt Helen wanted you to. A sad and troubled look stole over Abby's face as she answered. My mother, remember, dear Esther, does not realize that she is not her own, but has been bought with a price. You and I know and feel that we must give an account of our stewardship. Esther, do you see how people who ask God to help them in every little thing which they have to decide, in the least expenditure of money, can after that deliberately fritter it away? Do you ask God's help in these matters? Why, certainly, with a wondering look in her eyes, which Esther had learned to know and dislike. Whatsoever therefor ye do, you know. But Abby, going out shopping to buy handkerchiefs, for instance, that seems to me a very small thing to pray about. Even the purchase of handkerchiefs may involve a question of conscience, my dear Esther, as you would realize if you had seen the wicked purchases that I have in that line. Then some way I never can feel that anything that has to do with me is of less importance than a tiny sparrow, and yet you know he looks after them. Abby, do you mean to say that in every little thing that you buy you weighed the subject and discussed the right and wrong of it? I certainly do try to find out just exactly what is right and then do it, and it seems to me there is no act in this world so small as to be neither right nor wrong. Then, said Esther, with an impatient twitch of her dress from under Abby's rocker, I don't see the use in being rich. Nobody is rich, Esther, only God, but I am so glad sometimes that he has trusted me with so much of his wealth that I feel like praying a prayer about that one thing, a thanksgiving. What else am I strange about, Esther? Everything with growing impatience. I think it was as queer in you as possible not to go to the concert last evening with Uncle Ralph. But, Esther, it was prayer meeting evening. Well, suppose it was. There is prayer meeting every week, and there isn't this particular singer very often, and Uncle Ralph was disappointed. I thought you believed in honoring your parents. You forget, dear Esther, that Father said he was particularly anxious that I should do as I thought right, and that he should not have purchased the tickets if he had remembered the meeting. Father likes consistency. Well, that is just the point. I want to know if you call it inconsistent to leave your prayer meeting for just one evening, no matter for what reason. Abby laughed in answer. Do you know, Esther, you wouldn't make a good lawyer. You don't stick to the point. It isn't a great many reasons that might be suggested that we are talking about. It is simply a concert. Then more gravely. I try to be very careful about this matter. So many detentions are constantly occurring in the city that unless the line were very closely drawn I should not get to prayer meeting at all. There are occasions, of course, when I must be detained. But under ordinary circumstances it must be more than a concert that detains me. I don't believe in making religion such a very solemn matter as that all amounts to. It has a tendency to drive people away from it. The look on Abby's face in answer to this testily spoken sentence was a mixture of bewilderment and pain. I don't understand, she said at length. How is that a solemn matter? If we really expect to meet our savior at a prayer meeting, isn't it a delightful thought? I am very happy when I can go to the place of prayer. Esther's voice savored decidedly of the one which she was want to use in her very worst moods in that long dining room at home. Of course I should have remembered that Mr. Foster would be at the prayer meeting and not at the concert. That was reason enough for your enjoyment. The rich blood surged in waves over Abby's face during this rude address. But she said not a single word in answer. After a little silence, she spoke in a voice that trembled with feeling. Esther, there is one thought in connection with this subject that troubles me very much. Do you really think, as you have intimated, that I am selfish, that I consult my own tastes and desires too much, and so do injury to the cause? For instance, do you think I prejudiced my father?  And what a question to ask of Esther. What had developed this disagreeable state of mind saved the confused upbratings of her hitherto quiet conscience over the contrast between cousin Abby's life and hers? Here, in the very face of her theories to the contrary, in very defiance to her belief in the folly and fashion and worldliness that prevailed in the city, in the very heart of this great city, set down in the midst of wealth and temptation, had she found this young lady, daughter of one of the merchant princes, an almost bride of one of the brightest stars in the New York Galaxy on the eve of a brilliant departure for foreign shores, with a whirl of preparation and excitement about her enough to dizzy the brain of a dozen ordinary mortals, yet moving sweetly, brightly, quietly through it all, and manifestly finding her highest source of enjoyment in the presence of, and daily communion with, her savior. All Esther's speculations concerning her had come to naught. She had planned the wardrobe of the bride over and over again for days before she saw her, and while she had prepared proper little lectures for her on the folly and sinfulness of fashionable attire, had yet delighted in the prospect of the beauty and elegance around her. How had her prospects been blighted? Beauty there certainly was in everything, but it was the beauty of simplicity, not at all such a display of silks and velvets and jewels as Esther had planned. It certainly could not be wealth which made Abby's life such a happy one, for she regulated her expenses with a care and forethought such as Esther had never even dreamed of. It could not be a life of ease, a freedom from annoyance, which kept her bright and sparkling, for it had only taken a week's sojourn in her Aunt Helen's home to discover to Esther the fact that all wealthy people were not necessarily amiable and delightful. Abby was evidently rasped and thwarted in a hundred little ways, having a hundred little trials which she had never been called upon to endure. In short, Esther had discovered that the mere fact of living in a great city was not in itself calculated to make the Christian race more easy or more pleasant. She had begun to suspect that it might not even be quite so easy as it was in a quiet country home, and so one by one all her explanations of Abby's peculiar character had become bubbles and had vanished as bubbles do. What then sustained and guided her cousin? Clearly Esther was shut up to this one conclusion. It was an ever-abiding, all-pervading Christian faith and trust, but then had not she the same faith? And yet could any contrast be greater than was Abby's life contrasted with hers? There was no use in denying it, no use in lulling and coaxing her conscience any longer. It had been for one whole week in the new atmosphere. It had roused itself. It was not thoroughly awake as yet, but restless and nervous and on the alert, and would not be hushed back to its lethargic state. This it was which made Esther the uncomfortable companion which she was this morning. She was not willing to be shaken and roused. She had been saying very unkind rude things to Abby, and now instead of flouncing off in an uncontrollable fit of indignation, which of course Esther could but think would be the most comfortable thing which could happen next, so far as she was concerned, Abby sat still with that look of meek inquiry on her face, humbly awaiting her verdict. How Esther wished she had never asked that last question. How ridiculous it would make her appear, after all that had been said, to admit that her cousin's life had been one continual reproach of her own, that concerning this very matter of the concert, she had heard Uncle Ralph remark that if all the world matched what they did with what they said as well as Abby did, he was not sure but he might be a Christian himself. Then suppose she should add that this very pointed remark had been made to her when they were on their way to the concert in question. Altogether Esther was disgusted and wished she could get back to where the conversation commenced, feeling certain now that she would leave a great many things unsaid. I do not know how the conversation would have ended whether Esther could have brought herself to the plain truth and been led on and on to explain the unrest and dissatisfaction of her own heart, and thus have saved herself much of the sharp future in store for her, but one of those unfortunate interruptions which seemed to finite eyes to be constantly occurring now came to them. There was an unusual bang to the front door, the sound of strange footsteps in the hall, the echo of a strange voice floated up to her, and Abby, with a sudden flinging of thimble and scissors and an exclamation of Ralph has come, vanished. End of Chapter 13. Recording by Tricia G. Chapter 14 of Esther Read. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Esther Read by Pansy. Chapter 14 The Little Card Left to herself, Esther found her train of thought so thoroughly disagreeable that she hastened to rid herself of it and seized upon the newcomer to afford her a substitute. This cousin, whom she had expected to influence for good, had at last arrived. Esther's interest in him had been very strong ever since that evening of her arrival, when she had been appealed to to use her influence on him, just in what way she hadn't an idea. Abby had never spoken of it since, and seemed to have lost much of her eager desire that the cousins should meet. Esther mused about all this now. She wished she knew just in what way she was expected to be a benefit. Abby was evidently troubled about him. Perhaps he was rough and awkward, schoolboys often were, even those born in a city. Very much of Ralph's life had been spent away from home, she knew, and she had often heard that boys away from home influences grew rude and coarse oftentimes. Yes, that was undoubtedly it. Shy, too, he was of course. He was of about the age to be that. She could imagine just how he looked. He felt out of place in the Grand Mansion, which he called home, but where he had passed so small a portion of his time. Probably he didn't know what to do with his hands nor his feet, and just as likely as not. He sat on the edge of his chair and ate with his knife. School was a horrid place for picking up all sorts of ill manners. Of course, all these things must annoy Abby very much, especially at this time when he must necessarily come so often in contact with that perfection of gentlemanliness, Mr. Foster. I wish, thought Esther at this point, growing a little anxious. I wish there was more than a week before the wedding. However, I'll do my best. Abby shall see I'm good for something. Although I do differ with her somewhat on her peculiar views, I believe I know how to conduct myself with ease in almost any position if I have been brought up in the country. And by the time the lunch bell rang, a girl more thoroughly satisfied with herself and her benevolent intentions than was this same Esther could hardly have been found. She stood before the glass, smoothing the shining bands of hair, preparatory to tying a blue satin ribbon over them when Abby fluttered in. Forgive me a great many times for rushing off in the flutter I did and leaving you behind and staying away so long.  Your hair doesn't need another bit of brushing, Esther. It's as smooth as velvet. They are all waiting for us in the dining room, and I want to show you to Ralph. And before the blue satin ribbon was tied quite to her satisfaction, Esther was hurried to the dining room to take up her new role of guide and general assistant to the awkward youth. I suppose he hasn't an idea what to say to me was her last compassion at thought, as Abby's hand rested on the knob. I suppose he won't be hopelessly quiet, but I'll manage in some way. At first he was nowhere to be seen, but as Abby said eagerly, Ralph, here is Cousin Esther, the door swung back into its place and revealed a tall, well-proportioned young man with a full bearded face and the brightest of dancing eyes. He came forward immediately, extending both hands and speaking in a rapid voice. Long hoped four come at last. I don't refer to myself, you understand, but to this much waited for, eagerly looked forward to prospect of greeting my cousin Esther. Aught I to welcome you, or you me, which is it? I'm somewhat bewildered as to proprieties. This fearfully near approach to a wedding has confused my brain. Cis, turning suddenly to Abby, have you prepared Esther for her fate? Does she fully understand that she and I are to officiate? That is, if we don't evaporate before the eventful day. Cis, how could you have the conscience to perpetrate a wedding in August? Whatever takes foster abroad just now anyway, and without waiting for answer to his ceaseless questions he ran gaily on. Clearly whatever might be his shortcomings inability to talk was not one of them, and Esther, confused, bewildered, utterly thrown out of her prepared part in the entertainment, was more silent and awkward than she had ever known herself to be. Provoked to with Abby, with Ralph, with herself. How could I have been such a simpleton, she asked herself, as seated opposite her cousin at table, she had opportunity to watch the handsome face with its changeful play of expression, and note the air of pleased attention with which even her uncle Ralph listened to his ceaseless flow of words. I knew he was older than Abby, and that this was his third year in college. What could I have expected from Uncle Ralph's son? A petty dunce he must think me blushing and stammering like an awkward country girl. What on earth could Abby mean about needing my help for him, and being troubled about him?  I wish she could ever talk or act like anybody else. I don't know that such is the case, however, Ralph was saying when Esther returned from this rehearsal of her own thoughts. I can simply guess at it, which is as near an approach to an exertion as a fellow ought to be obliged to make in this weather. John, you may fill my glass, if you please. Father, this is even better wine than your cellar usually affords, and that is saying a great deal. Sis has foster made a temperance man of you entirely, I see you are devoted to ice water. Oh, certainly Mrs. Reed answered for her in the half-contemptuous tone she was want to assume on such occasions. I warn you, Ralph, to get all the enjoyment you can out of the present, for Abby intends to keep you with her entirely after she has a home of her own, out of the reach of temptation. Esther glanced hurriedly and anxiously toward her cousin. How did this pet scheme of hers become known to Mrs. Reed, and how could Abby possibly retain her habitual self-control under the sarcastic ridicule, which was so apparent in her mother's voice? The pink on her cheek did deepen perceptibly, but she answered with the most perfect good humor. Ralph, don't be frightened, please. I shall let you out once in a long while if you are very good. Ralph bent loving eyes on the young sweet face and made prompt reply. I don't know that I shall care for even that reprieve since you're to be jailer. What could there be in this young man to cause anxiety or to wish changed? Yet, even while Esther queried, he passed his glass for a third filling, and taking note just then of Abby's quick, pained look, then downcast eyes and deeply flushing face, the knowledge came suddenly that in that wine-glass the mischief lay. Abby thought him in danger, and this was the meaning of her unfinished sentence on that first evening and her embarrassed silence since. For Esther, with her filled glass always beside her plate, untouched indeed sometimes but often or sipped from in response to her uncle's invitation, was not the one from whom help could be expected in this matter. And Esther wondered if the handsome face opposite her could really be in absolute danger, or whether this was another of Abby's whims. At least it wasn't pleasant to be drinking wine before him, and she left her glass untouched that day and felt thoroughly troubled about that and everything. The next morning there was a shopping excursion, and Ralph was smuggled in as an attendant. Abby turned over the endless sets of handkerchiefs in bewildering indecision. Take this box, do Abby, Esther urged. This monogram in the corner is lovely, and that is the dearest little sprig in the world. Which is precisely what troubles me, laughed Abby. It is entirely too dear. Think of paying such an enormous sum for just handkerchiefs. Ralph, who was lounging near her, trying hard not to look bored, elevated his eyebrows as his ear caught the sentence and addressed her in undertone. Is foster hard up? If he is, you are not on his hands yet, sis, and I am inclined to think father is good for all the finery you may happen to fancy. That only shows your ignorance of the subject or your high opinion of me. I assure you, where I so disposed I could bring father's affairs into a fearful tangle this very day just by indulging a fancy for finery. Are his affairs precarious, Abby, or his finery prodigious? Abby laid her hand on a square of cobwebby lace. That is seventy-five dollars, Ralph. What of it, do you want it? And Ralph's hand was in his pocket. Abby turned with almost a shiver from the counter. I hope not, Ralph, she said with sudden energy. I hope I may never be so unworthy of my trust as to make such a wicked use of money. Then, more lightly, you are worse than Queen Esther here, and her advice is bewildering enough. But, Abby, how can you be so absurd, said that young lady, returning to the charge? Those are not very expensive, I am sure, at least not for you. And you certainly want some very nice ones. I'm sure if I had one-third of your spending money I shouldn't need to hesitate. Abby's voice was very low and sweet, and reached only her cousin's ear. Esther, the silver and the gold are his, and I have asked him this very morning to help me in every little item to be careful of his trust. Now, do you think—but Esther had turned away in a vexed, uncomfortable state of mind, and walked quite to the other end of the store, leaving Abby to complete her purchases as she might see fit. She leaned against the door, tapping her fingers in a very softly but very nervous manner against the glass. How queer it was that in the smallest matters she and Abby could not agree. How was it possible that the same set of rules could govern them both? And the old, ever-recurring question came up to be thought over afresh. Clearly they were unlike, utterly unlike. Now, was Abby right and she wrong, or was Abby—no, not wrong—the word would certainly not apply. There absolutely could be no wrong associated with Abby's way. Well, then, queer, unlike other people, unnecessarily precise, studying the right and wrong of matters, which she had been want to suppose had no moral bearing of any sort, rather which she had never given any attention to. While she waited and queried, her eye caught a neat little card receiver hanging near her, apparently filled with cards, and bearing in guilt's lettering just above them the winning words, free to all, take one. This was certainly a kindly invitation, and Esther's curiosity being aroused as to what this all might be for. She availed herself of the invitation and drew with dainty fingers a small, neat card from the case and read, I solemnly agree, as God shall help me, one, to observe regular sessions of secret prayer, at least in the morning and evening of each day, two, to read daily at least a small portion of the Bible, three, to attend at one or more prayer meetings every week if I have strength to get there, four, to stand up for Jesus always and everywhere, five, to try and save at least one soul each year, six, to engage in no amusement where my Savior could not be a guest. Had this small bit of cardboard been a coal of fire, it could not have been more suddenly dropped upon the marble before her than was this, as Esther's startled eyes took in its meaning. Who could have written those sentences, and to be placed there in a conspicuous corner of a fashionable store? Was she never to be at peace again? Had the world gone wild? Was this an emanation from Cousin Abbey's brain, or were there many more Cousin Abbey's in what she had supposed was a wicked city? Or, oh, painful question which came back hourly nowadays and seemed to fairly chill her blood. Was this religion, and had she none of it, was her profession a mockery, her life a miserably acted lie? Is that thing hot? It was Ralph's amused voice which asked this question close beside her. What, where? And Esther turned in dire confusion. Why, that bit of paper, or was it a ghostly communication from the world of spirits? You look startled enough for me to suppose anything, and it spun away from your grasp very suddenly. Oh, he added as he glanced it through. Rather ghostly, I must confess. Or would be if one were inclined that way. But I imagined your nerves were stronger. Did the pronoun startle you? How? Why, I thought perhaps you considered yourself committed to all this solimnity before your time, or willy-nilly, as children say. What a comical idea to hang oneself up in a store in this fashion. I must have one of these. Are you going to keep yours? And as he spoke, he reached forward and possessed himself of one of the cards. Rather odd things to be found in our possession, wouldn't they be? Abbey now would be just one of this sort. That cold shiver trembled again through Esther's frame as she listened. Clearly he did not reckon her one of that sort. He had known her but one day, and yet he seemed positive that she stood on an equal footing with himself. Oh, why was it? How did he know? Was her manner then utterly unlike that of a Christian, so much that this young man sighed already? Or was it that glass of wine from which she had sipped last evening? And at this moment she would have given much to be back where she thought herself two weeks ago on the wine question. But she stood silent and let him talk on, not once attempting to define her position, partly because there had crept into her mind this fearful doubt unaccompanied by the prayer. If I've never loved before, help me to begin today.  And though not exactly ashamed of him, at least she could have indignantly denied the charge, yet it was much less confusing to keep silence and let others think as they would. This had been her rule, and she followed it now, and Ralph continued. Queer world this, isn't it? How do you imagine our army would have prospered if one-fourth of the soldiers had been detailed for the purpose of coaxing the rest to follow their leader and obey orders? That's what it seems to me the so-called Christian world is up to. Does the comical side of it ever strike you, Esther? Positively I can hardly keep from laughing now and then to hear the way in which Dr. Downing pitches into his church members, and they sit and take it as meekly as lambs brought to the slaughter. It does them about as much good, apparently, as it does me. No, not so much, for it amuses me and serves to make me good-natured on good terms with myself for half an hour or so. I'm so thoroughly rejoiced, you see, to think that I don't belong to that set of miserable sinners. Dr. Downing does preach very sharp, harsh sermons, Esther said at last, feeling the necessity of saying something. I have often wondered at it. I think them calculated to do more harm than good. Oh, I don't wonder at that in the least. I'd make it sharper yet if I were he. The necessity exists, evidently. The wonder lies in that to my mind. If a fellow really means to do a thing, what does he wait to be punched up about it everlastingly for? Hang me if I don't like to see people act as though they meant it, even if the question is a religious one. Esther, how many times odd I to beg your pardon for using an unknown tongue, in other words, slaying phrases? I fancied myself talking to my chum, delivering a lecture on theology, which is somewhat out of my sphere as you have doubtless observed. Yet such people as you and I can't help having eyes and ears, and using them now and then, can we? Still silence on Esther's part, so far as defining her position, was concerned. She was not ashamed of her savior now, but of herself. If this gay cousin's eyes were critical, she knew she could not bear the test. Yet she rallied sufficiently to condemn within her own mind the poor little cards. They will do more harm than good, she told herself positively. To such young men as Ralph, for instance, what could he possibly want with one of them, safe to make it a subject of ridicule when he got with some of his wild companions? But it transpired that his designs were not so very wicked after all. For as they left the store, he took the little card from his pocket and handed it to Abby with a quiet siss here is something that you will like. And Abby read it and said, How solemn that is! Did you get it for me, Ralph? Thank you! And Ralph bowed and smiled on her, a kind, almost tender smile, very unlike the roguish twinkle that had shown in his eyes while he talked with Esther. All through the busy day that silent, solemn card haunted Esther. It pertinaciously refused to be lost. She dropped it twice in their transit from store to store, but Ralph promptly returned it to her. At home she laid it on her dressing table, but piled scarfs and handkerchiefs and gloves over it as high as she might. It was sure to flutter to the floor at her feet as she sought hurriedly in the mass of confusion for some missing article. Once she seized and flung it from the window in dire vexation, and was rewarded by having Maggie present it to her about two minutes thereafter as a something that landed square on my head, ma'am, as I was coming around the corner. At last she actually grew nervous over it, felt almost afraid to touch it, so thoroughly had it fastened itself on her conscience. These great black letters in that first sentence seemed burned into her brain. I solemnly agree as God shall help me. At last she deposited the unwelcome little monitor at the very bottom of her collar box under some unused collars, telling herself that it was for safe keeping that she might not lose it again, not letting her conscience save for a moment that it was because she wanted to bury the haunting words out of her sight. End of Chapter 14, Recording by Tricia G.