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قراءة كتاب Working in the Shade Lowly Sowing brings Glorious Reaping

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‏اللغة: English
Working in the Shade
Lowly Sowing brings Glorious Reaping

Working in the Shade Lowly Sowing brings Glorious Reaping

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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old gentleman’s address that Miss Stansfield could not be offended with him; while his age and bearing prevented her feeling that there was any impropriety in her permitting him to be her companion on the public road till she should reach the drive-gate leading up to her home. She therefore bowed her assent, and the two walked slowly forward.

“You must know, Miss Stansfield,” proceeded the stranger, “that I have both seen you before and have also heard a good deal about you, though we have never met till to-day.—Ah, I know what you would say,” he added, with a smile, as he noticed her look of extreme surprise and her blush of bewilderment. “You are thinking, What can I have heard about one who is leading such a commonplace, retired life as yours? I will tell you. I have been rather anxious to know what sort of neighbours I shall have round me here, so I have been getting a little reliable information on the subject—where from it matters not; and my informant has told me about an old lady whose estate adjoins Riverton Park, and who has a niece living with her who belongs to a class for which I have a special respect, and which I may call ‘workers in the shade.’ Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly,” replied his companion; “only I feel utterly unworthy of being included in such a class.”

“Of course you do. And just for this reason, because you’re in the habit of burning candles instead of letting off fireworks; and so you think your humble candles aren’t of much service because they don’t go off with a rush and a fizz. Is that it?”

“Perhaps it may be so,” said the other, laughing.

“Well, do you remember what Shakespeare says?” asked the old man.

“‘How far that little candle throws its beams,
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.’

“Now, I want you kindly to answer me a question. It is this, Are there any unselfish people in Franchope or the neighbourhood?”

The question was put so abruptly, and was so odd in itself, that Mary Stansfield looked in her companion’s face with a half misgiving. He noticed it instantly. “You’re a little doubtful as to the old gentleman’s vanity?” he said, laughing; “but I’m quite sane and quite in earnest; and I repeat my question.”

“Really,” said the other, much amused, “it is a very difficult question to answer. I hope and believe that there are many unselfish persons in our neighbourhood, or it would be sad indeed.”

“Ah! True,” was his reply, “but hoping is one thing, and believing is another. Now, I’ve been half over the world, and have come back to my own country with the settled conviction that selfishness is the great crying sin of our day; and it seems to me to have increased tenfold in my own native land since I last left it. So I should very much like to meet with a specimen or two of genuine unselfish people; for I have some important work to do here, and I shall stand in need of truly unselfish helpers. Can you name me one or two?”

“Well, sir, if you mean by unselfish persons those who really work for God’s glory and not their own, I freely admit that they are, and I suppose always must be, comparatively rare.”

“That is exactly what I do mean, my dear young lady; can you help me to find a few such unselfish workers in your own rank of life, and of your own sex?”

His companion was silent for a few moments, then she said slowly and timidly, “I judge, dear sir, from the tone of your questions that you are a follower of that Saviour who has set us the only perfect example of unselfishness.”

“I trust so, my young friend,” was the other’s reply; “I wish at least to be so. Well, I see we have only a few more steps to bring us to your aunt’s lodge. We shall meet again, I have no doubt, before long; and perhaps when we do I shall have more to say to you on the same subject. Farewell, and thank you.” And with a courteous salutation he parted from her.



Chapter Two.

Settling Down.

Restoration and improvement went on vigorously at Riverton Park. The front of the house soon lost its careworn appearance; the walks laid aside their weeds, and shone with a lively surface of fresh gravel; the shutters ceased to exclude the daylight; while painters and paperers, masons and carpenters, decorators and upholsterers soon brought the interior of the dwelling into a becoming state of beauty, order, and comfort.

And now the new proprietor was looked for with anxious expectation. His name had already got abroad, and all the gentry round were prepared to welcome Colonel Dawson when he should take possession of his newly acquired property. The colonel was an old retired officer, who had spent many years since leaving the army in one or more of the colonies. And now he was come home again, and intended to pass the rest of his days at Riverton. This was all that report could confidently affirm at present.

Was he an old bachelor or married? And if the latter, was his wife still living, and was there any family? Very conflicting rumours got abroad on this subject, but very little satisfaction came of them. All that could conclusively be gathered was that Park House was to have a lady inhabitant as well as the colonel; but that only a portion of the house was to be fully furnished. The appearance of a coachman daily exercising two noble carriage-horses was also hailed as a sign that the colonel did not mean to lead an unsociable life.

So Franchope and its neighbourhood were content, and watched the arrivals at the station day by day with patient interest. At length, in the first week in August, it was observed that the colonel’s carriage drew up at the railway office to meet the evening train from London. From a first-class carriage there emerged three persons—the colonel, an elderly lady, and a young man who might be some twenty years of age; a footman and a lady’s-maid also made their appearance; and all drove off for Riverton Park. Who could count the pairs of eyes that looked out from various windows in Franchope as the carriage drove rapidly through the town? A glance, a flash, and the new-comers were gone.

And now, in a few days, the whole household having twice occupied the family pews in the old parish church on the Lord’s day, the neighbouring gentry began to make their calls.

The first to do so were Lady Willerly and her daughter. Her ladyship had discovered that she was distantly connected with the colonel, and hastened to show her interest in him as speedily as possible. Having cordially shaken hands with her and her daughter. Colonel Dawson turned to the lady and young man by his side and introduced them as, “My sister Miss Dawson; my nephew Mr Horace Jackson.” So the relationships were settled, and public curiosity set at rest.

Numerous other callers followed, and by all it was agreed that the family was a decided acquisition; a pity perhaps that there was not a Mrs Dawson and a few more young people to fill the roomy old house and add liveliness to the various parties and social gatherings among the gentry. A younger man than the colonel would undoubtedly have been more to the general taste, especially as it was soon found that the family at Park House neither accepted nor gave dinner invitations, nor indeed invitations to any gatherings except quiet afternoon friendly meetings, where intercourse with a few neighbours could be enjoyed without mixing with the gaieties of the fashionable world.

So good society shrugged its shoulders, and raised its eyebrows, and regretted that the colonel, who doubtless was a good man, should have taken up such strict and strange notions. However, people must please themselves; and so it came to pass that the family at

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