Thither about Christmas J.C. and Nellie went, and from
her small back room in the fifth story of a New York boarding-house
Nellie writes to Louis glowing descriptions of high life in the
city, and Louis, glancing at his crutches and withered feet, smiles
as he thinks how weary he should be climbing the four flights of
stairs which lead to that high life.
And now, with one more glance at Maude, we bring our story to a
close. It is Easter, and over the earth the April sun shines
brightly, just as it shone on the Judean hills eighteen hundred
years ago. The Sabbath bells are ringing, and the merry peal which
comes from the Methodist tower bespeaks in John a frame of mind
unsuited to the occasion. Since forsaking the Episcopalians. he had
seldom attended their service, but this morning, after his task is
done, he will steal quietly across the common to the old stone
church, where James De Vere and Maude sing together the glorious
Easter Anthem. Maude formerly sang the alto, but in the old world
her voice was trained to the higher notes, and to-day it will be
heard in the choir where it has so long been missed.
The bells have ceased to toll, and a family group come slowly up the
aisle. Dr. Kennedy, slightly bent, his white hair shading a brow
from which much of his former sternness has gone, and his hand
shaking but slightly as he opens the pew door and then steps back
for the lady to enter, the lady Maude Glendower, who walks not as
proudly as of old. She, too, has been made better by adversity, and
though she will never love the palsied man, her husband, she will be
to him a faithful wife, and a devoted mother to his boy, who in the
square, old-fashioned pew sits where his eye can rest upon his
beautiful sister, as her snowy fingers sweep once more the organ
keys, which tremble joyfully as it were to the familiar touch.
Low, deep-toned, and heavy is the prelude to the song, and they who
listen feel the floor tremble beneath their feet. Then a strain of
richest melody echoes through the house, arid the congregation hold
their breath, as Maude De Vere sings to them of the Passover once
sacrificed for us.
And now, shall we not leave them thus with the holy Easter light
streaming up the aisles and the sweet music of the Easter song dying
on the air?