Part 19

"And the doctor," she added, following her to the door. "I mistrust she will not last long now she has come to herself."

Calista returned to kiss her aunt, and Miss Priscy held her with her thin hand and looked wistfully at her.

"I should like a nice fresh raw oyster," she said. "Could I have one?"

"Yes, yes, dear; you shall have what you want," said Calista, unable to keep back her tears at the changed tone and manner; "shall she not, Aunt Betsy?"

"Yes, an oyster is just the thing; but let Calista go now."

"And, Calista, tell Chloe not to use butter to fry with. It is extravagant, and lard is just as good."

"I will, aunt." And Calista finally escaped.

She sent a messenger for the doctor and lawyer, who came together.

"Let her have just what she fancies; it won't make any difference," was the doctor's sentence; "she is running down like a clock. There is nothing to be done but to give her a little stimulant to keep her up as long as we can. But it is wonderful how clear her mind is. She seems as bright as ever."

Miss Priscilla had a short private conference with Mr. Settson, who came out of the room wiping his glasses and his eyes.

"She wants you, Calista," said he. "She understands the whole affair now, and says she is glad all will come to you. Shall I send any one out to you?"

"Oh, if Mary would come! If she is not afraid, I should so like to have her."

But Mary was afraid, and showed it so obviously that her father decided that she would be neither a help nor a comfort, and accepted Miss Meeks's offer instead. Mr. Fabian was disabled by one of his rare attacks of illness, and his wife could not leave him; but she heaped Miss Meeks with everything she thought could be a comfort to herself or Calista, remarking in her silvery, emphatic voice, that she was glad Calista had friends who would not desert her in the hour of trial.

Poor Mary fled into her room to cry herself into a fit of sick headache. It was a terrible tumble, but a wholesome, and it was noticed that Mary's Christianity was hereafter much more charitable and less didactic in its character.

When Calista came back to her aunt's bedside, she took both her hands and drew her down beside her.

"Mr. Settson has told me all about the will," said she. "I did not hide it, Calista. I did not believe my father ever made it. But it is quite right. I was a wicked woman. I had Richard's letters, and never let my father see them. Poor Dick! He was such a pretty boy, with curly hair. 'Pity' he used to call me; but I had not much pity on him. But father need not have taught him—"

She seemed to be wandering and, desirous to call her back, Calista said, gently—

"But you are sorry now, Aunt Priscy. You wouldn't do so again."

"Yes, I am sorry. I would take it back, but we can't take back the past. It won't come back. Calista, I was not good to you, but you won't turn me out of the house, will you? I was born here, and I should like to—You won't turn me out, will you?" she repeated, wistfully looking into Calista's face.

"No, indeed, aunt! Don't think of such a thing!" said Calista. "But don't mind about business—not now. Don't you want to have Mr. Alger or Mr. Lee come to see you?"

"No, no!" said Miss Priscy. "But you may get your Bible and read to me, if you like. Read in St. John. Your grandmother liked that."

Glad of so much concession, Calista got her book and read on far into the night. The restlessness of death was on Miss Priscilla, but so long as Calista read, she was tolerably quiet, sometimes murmuring over words that struck her mind or fancy.

At last she dropped asleep, and Calista dozed too, leaning on the side of the bed. She was wakened by a gentle touch from Miss Meeks, who had shared her vigil and spent almost the whole night in prayer.

Calista looked at her aunt, and by the light of a new day saw the awful gray shadow which never falls but once.

Her aunt was sensible; she pressed Calista's hand and spoke faintly—

"Child—never love money—it is poison if you do; you'll have a great deal—but you had better lose it all—than set your heart on it."

"You will forgive me, won't you, aunt?" said Calista, through her tears.

"There was nothing to forgive," said she; "I am the one to need forgiveness—you and Druey were good to me—always." She held Calista's hand fast in hers, and looked fixedly at her.

Then collecting her strength for a last effort, "God bless you!" she said, in her old strong tones—"God bless you!" Her head fell back.

"She is gone," said Aunt Chloe, coming forward and closing the poor eyes that had looked their last. "The Lord have mercy on her! She confessed him in her death, if she didn't in her life."

There is little more to tell. Old Jael was no sooner in Cohansey jail than she was attacked with rheumatic fever, of which she died after long suffering. She seemed much struck with Tom Edgar's bravery in saving her life at the risk of his own. She had every comfort consistent with her situation, but there was no cure and little alleviation was possible. At first she positively refused to hear one word on religion; but Tom Edgar at last won her to hear the Bible read, and by slow degrees her mind opened to the truth.

Before she died she made a full confession. She said she and her husband had imposed on Miss Priscilla's credulity, in order to gain access to General Stanfield's house and get possession of the treasure which they believed he had hidden there. They had meant to frighten away Miss Druett and Calista, or to work on Miss Priscilla till she drove them out of the house, but the death of the former had opened the way for them more easily than they expected.

They had found Miss Priscilla harder to deal with than they expected. Her suspicions became aroused, and she insisted on keeping the keys herself, so that at last they had given her things to make her keep her bed. What the "things" were she obstinately refused to tell, saying that some one might make a bad use of them again, but they were roots and herbs that her people knew of.

She declared that her daughter had nothing to do with the robbery or with ill-treating Miss Priscilla. There being no proof against the younger woman, she was allowed to go free. And after her mother's death, she disappeared from the place.

Zeke was tried and convicted, but his mind failed so entirely before the end of the trial that he was sent to an asylum; from which, however, he contrived to escape, and was found dead in the Red Hollow, to which some glimmering of remembrance had no doubt led him.

The old house was put in good repair, but Calista did not come to live in it for several years. She lived as a daughter with Mr. and Mrs. Fabian, cheering their old age with daughterly care and affection.

As soon as she was of age, she visited her mother's old home, where she found Mrs. Tom Folsom old and poor, but still working to support herself and her helpless son, and after much persuasion prevailed on that lady to accept a tolerable provision, which should place her above the need of labor much too hard for her age. Miss Malvina's little old red house happening to be in the market, Calista bought and fitted it up neatly as a residence for her cousin, and saw her comfortably established before leaving her. Mrs. John Folsom, who was still preaching self-denial, thought Miss Stanfield might have used her money to better purpose, but every one else was pleased to see the hard-working, independent woman so well provided for.

Nor was this Calista's only work of benevolence. Her money was not like a stagnant reservoir, poisoning all who came near, but being kept running like a flowing stream, it brought many a blessing which returned to the owner again. It paid Mary Burns's way through school till she was able to take a first-class place as teacher. It brightened and soothed the declining years of Miss Meeks. And far and wide, in heathen lands and at home, it helped to spread the good tidings of the gospel of peace.

"Calista is not spoiled, though she has seen so much of the world and had so much money," remarked Mary Settson, when Calista came home from Europe, whither she had gone on her bridal tour when she married Mr. Fabian's nephew. "I was a little afraid for her, but she is not spoiled at all."

"The world has not spoiled her, because she has never loved the world," said Belle Adair—Belle Adair no more, but the hard-working wife of a city clergyman. "Neither money nor the world can do us any harm unless we let them into our hearts. And depend upon it, Mary, those who live for this world most entirely are those who get the least enjoyment out of it."

"THEY THAT WILL BE RICH FALL INTO TEMPTATION AND A SNARE . . . THE LOVE OF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL."—_Paul to Timothy._