The Argosy | Page 7

you so deeply. Would that my love could
shield you from such trials in future. But that cannot always be. You
must strive to regard such things as part of that stern discipline of life
which is designed to tutor our wayward hearts and rebellious spirits,
and bring them into harmony with a will superior to our own. And now
you must tell me all about your voyage down the Adair, and your
rescue by that brave George Strickland. Ah! how grieved I was, when
the news was brought to Deepley Walls, that I could not hasten to you,
and see with my own eyes that you had come to no harm! But I was
chained to my post, and could not stir."
Scarcely had Sister Agnes done speaking when the air was filled with a
strain of music that seemed to be more sweet and solemn than anything
I had ever heard before. All the soreness melted out of my heart as I
listened; all my troubles seemed to take to themselves wings, and life to
put on an altogether different aspect from any it had ever worn to me
before. I saw clearly that I had not been so good a girl in many ways as
I might have been. I would try my best not to be so inattentive at

church in future, and I would never, no, not even on the coldest night in
winter, neglect to say my prayers before getting into bed.
"What is it? Where does it come from?" I whispered into the ear of
Sister Agnes.
"It is Father Spiridion playing the organ in the west gallery."
"And who is Father Spiridion?"
"A good man and my friend. Presently you shall be introduced to him."
No word more was spoken till the playing ceased. Then Sister Agnes
took me by the hand and we went towards the west gallery. Father
Spiridion saw us, and paused on the top of the stairs.
"This is the child, holy father, of whom I have spoken to you once or
twice; the child, Janet Hope."
The father's shrewd blue eyes took me in from head to foot at a glance.
He was a tall, thin and slightly cadaverous-looking man, with high
aquiline features; and with an indefinable something about him that
made me recognise him on the spot as a gentleman. He wore a coarse
brown robe that reached nearly to his feet, the cowl of which was
drawn over his head. When Sister Agnes had spoken he laid his hand
gently on my head, and said something I could not understand. Then
placing his hand under my chin, he said, "Look me straight in the face,
child."
I lifted my eyes and looked him fairly in the face, till his blue eyes
lighted up with a smile. Then patting me on the cheek, he said,
addressing Sister Agnes, "Nothing shifty there, at any rate. It is a face
full of candour, and of that innocent fearlessness which childhood
should always have, but too often loses in an evil world. I dare be
bound now, little Janet, that thou art fond of sweetmeats?"
"Oh, yes, sir, if you please."

"By some strange accident I find here in my soutane a tiny box of
bonbons. They might have been put there expressly for a little sweet
tooth of a Janet. Nothing could be more opportune. Take them, my
child, with Father Spiridion's blessing; and sometimes remember his
name in thy prayers."
I did not see Father Spiridion again before I was sent away to school,
but in after years our threads of life crossed and re-crossed each other
strangely, in a way that neither he nor I even dreamed of at that first
interview.
My life at Deepley Walls lengthened out from day to day, and in many
ways I was exceedingly happy. My chief happiness lay in the love of
dear Sister Agnes, with whom I spent at least one or two hours every
day. Then I was very fond of Major Strickland, who, I felt sure, liked
me in return--liked me for myself, and liked me still more, perhaps, for
the strange resemblance which he said I bore to some dear one whom
he had lost many years before. Of George Strickland, too, I was very
fond, but with a shy and diffident sort of liking. I held him as so
superior to me in every way that I could only worship him from a
distance. The Major fetched me over to Rose Cottage several times.
Such events were for me holidays in the true sense of the word.
Another source of happiness arose from the fact that I saw very little of
Lady Chillington. The indifference with which she had at first regarded
me seemed to