The Basket of Flowers - Christoph von Schmid (if you liked this book .txt) 📗

the more difficult to preserve its purity. The slightest spot can spoil the flower of the lily, and so one word can rob the mind of its purity. Let the rose," said he, pointing to that flower, "be the image of modesty. The blush of a modest girl is more beautiful than that of the rose."

Mary's father then made a bouquet of lilies and roses, and, giving it to Mary, he said, "These are brothers and sisters, whose beauty no other flowers can equal. Innocence and modesty are twin sisters, which cannot be separated. Yes, my dear child, God in His goodness has given to modesty, innocence for a sister and companion, in order that she might be warned of the approach of danger. Be always modest, and you will be always virtuous. Oh, if the will of God be so, I pray that you may be enabled to preserve in your heart the purity of the lily!"

One ornament of their garden, which James and his daughter most dearly prized, was a dwarf apple-tree little higher than a rose-bush, which grew in a small round bed in the middle of the garden. The old man had planted it on his daughter's birthday, and every year it gave them a harvest of beautiful golden yellow apples spotted with red. One season it seemed specially promising, and its blossom was more luxurious than ever. Every morning Mary examined it with new delight. One morning she came as usual, but what a change had taken place! The frost had withered all the flowers, which were now brown and yellow and fast being shrivelled up by the sun. Poor Mary's sensitive feelings were so affected that she burst into tears, but her father turned the incident to good account.

"Look, my child," said he, "as the frost spoils the apple-blossoms, so wicked pleasures spoil the beauty of youth. Oh, my dear Mary, tremble at the thought of going aside from the path of right. If the time should ever come when the delightful hopes which I have had for your future should vanish, I should shed tears more bitter than you do now. I should not enjoy another hour of pleasure, and my grey hairs would be brought with sorrow to the grave." At the mere thought of such a calamity the old man could not keep back his tears, and his words of tender solicitude made a deep impression on Mary's heart.

Brought up under the care of a father so wise and loving, Mary grew up like the flowers of her garden, fresh as the rose, pure like the lily, modest as the violet, and full of promise for the future, as a beautiful shrub in the time of flourishing.

When James viewed his beautiful garden, with its luxuriant flowers and its prolific fruits, which so well repaid his constant care, it was with a feeling of satisfaction and gratitude. But this feeling was nothing compared with the joy he felt when he saw his daughter, as the reward of his pious efforts to train her in the love of God, bringing forth the most precious fruits of the Holy Spirit.

 

CHAPTER II.

THE BASKET OF FLOWERS.

One day, early in the charming month of May, Mary went into a wood near her home to get some branches and twigs of the willow and hazel. When her father was not busily engaged in the garden, he occupied his time in making baskets of all sorts, and particularly lady's work-baskets. While he busied himself in this way, Mary read to him from the Bible or some good book, or, as her father worked, he talked to her about the highest matters.

While Mary was gathering the materials for her father's basket-work, she found some beautiful specimens of lily-of-the-valley; and, gathering sufficient of the flowers, she made two bunches, one for her father and the other for herself. After she had finished her work, and when she was returning home through a meadow, she met the Countess of Eichbourg and her daughter Amelia who were taking an afternoon walk. The ladies spent the greater part of their time in the city, but occasionally they lived for a few days at the Castle.

Some of the most important circumstances of life spring from apparently trifling events. In the case of Mary, this accidental meeting with the Countess and her daughter proved the beginning of the painful circumstances of this story. But God overrules all events, and this tale gives abundant proof that all things work together for good to them that love God.

As the ladies came near Mary, she stood a little on one side to let them pass; but when they saw the beautiful bunches of lilies in her hand they stopped to admire them, and wanted to buy one. Mary respectfully declined to sell her flowers, but she begged that the ladies would each accept a bunch. They were so struck with the girl's unaffected grace and modesty, that they gladly took her little offering, and Amelia requested her to gather more and bring them to the Castle every day for the rest of the season.

Mary faithfully performed this duty, and every morning while the flowers were in bloom she carried a bunch of lilies to the young lady. By and by an intimacy, which was something more than ordinary between two girls of such widely different positions, sprang up between Mary and Amelia. They were nearly of the same age, their tastes were similar, and it is not surprising that the acquaintance begun in a chance manner developed into a sincere friendship.

The anniversary of Amelia's birthday drew near, and Mary determined to make her some little present. She had given her so many bunches of flowers, that she puzzled her brain to think of some new gift. During the winter her father had been making a beautiful basket, which he intended to give to Mary herself. It was the most finished piece of work he had ever done, and he had worked on it a design of the village in which they lived. Mary's idea now was to fill this basket with flowers, and to offer it to the young Countess as her birthday present. Her father readily fell in with the plan, and added a finishing touch to it by weaving Amelia's name in on one side of the basket and the Count's coat-of-arms on the other.

The long-expected day arrived, and early in the morning Mary gathered the freshest and most beautiful roses, the richest pinks, and other flowers of beautiful colours. She picked out some green branches full of leaves, and arranged them in the basket, so that all the colours, though perfectly distinct, were sweetly and delicately blended. A light garland composed of rosebuds and moss was passed around the basket, and Amelia's name could be distinctly read enclosed in a coronet of forget-me-nots. The basket when completed was a thing of uncommon beauty.

When Mary went to the Castle with her basket-present, the young Countess Amelia was sitting at her toilet. Her maid was with her busily engaged on making her young mistress's head-dress for the birthday feast. Mary shyly offered her present, adding the best wishes of her heart for the young Countess's happiness. Amelia received the present with unaffected pleasure, and in an impulsive manner she warmly expressed her delight, as she viewed first of all the charming flowers with which the basket was filled, and examined more carefully the beautiful design of the basket itself.

Mary shyly offered her present.

"Mary shyly offered her present."
See page 15.

"Dear Mary," she said, "why, you have robbed your garden to make me this present. As for the basket, I have never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. Come, we will go and show it to my mother." Taking Mary affectionately by the hand, the girls went together to the apartments of the Countess. "See, mother," cried Amelia, "of all my birthday presents, surely nothing can equal the one I have received from Mary. Never have I seen so beautiful a basket, and nowhere can you find such beautiful flowers." The Countess was equally pleased with Mary's present, although she expressed herself more moderately. "What a charming basket!" she said, "and its flowers, how beautiful! They are yet wet with dew. The basket of flowers does credit to the taste of Mary but more to the kindness of her heart." Asking Mary to remain in the room, she made a sign to Amelia to follow her into another apartment.

"Amelia," said the Countess, "Mary must not be permitted to go away without some suitable return. What have you to give her?"

Amelia paused for a moment's reflection. "I think," she replied, "one of my dresses would be a most acceptable gift. For instance, if you will permit me, my dear mother, that one with the red and white flowers on the deep green ground. It is almost new; I have worn it but once. It is a little too short for me, but it will almost fit Mary, and she can arrange it herself. She is so handy with her needle. If, therefore, you do not think the present too valuable——"

The Countess interrupted her. "Too valuable! certainly not. When you wish to give anything it ought to be something good and serviceable. The green robe with the flowers will be very appropriate for Mary."

"Go now, my dear children," said the Countess, when they returned to the room where Mary was, "take good care of the flowers, that they may not fade before dinner. I want the guests to admire the basket also, which will be the most beautiful ornament on our table."

Amelia ran to her room with Mary, and told Juliette, her maid, to bring the dress with the white and red flowers.

"Do you wish to wear that dress to-day, miss?" said her maid.

"No," said Amelia, "I intend to make a present of it to Mary."

"Give that dress away!" replied Juliette hastily. "Does the Countess know?"

"You forget yourself, I think, Juliette," said Amelia with dignity. "Bring me the dress, and give yourself no trouble about the rest."

Juliette turned away hastily, her face burning with anger, and her heart full of spite. Pulling the door of the wardrobe open, she took from it the young Countess's dress. "Oh, I could tear it to pieces," she said passionately. "This sly Mary has already wormed her way into the affections of my young mistress, and now she steals from me this dress which ought to have been mine when the Countess had done with it. I could tear the eyes out of this little flower-girl; but some day I will be revenged." For the time being, however, she had to suppress her anger, and, taking the dress on her arm, she returned to her mistress and gave her the dress with a pleasant air.

"Dear Mary," said Amelia, "many of the presents which I have had to-day have cost more money than your basket, but none of them have given me so much pleasure. Will you take this dress from me as a token of my affection, and carry my best wishes to your good old father?"

Mary was not a vain girl, but her eyes sparkled at the sight of the beautiful dress, which surpassed anything she had ever dreamed of possessing. After warm thanks, she kissed the hand of the young Countess and left the Castle.

Amelia's maid continued her work in silence, but with jealous fury burning at her heart. The many tugs which she gave to the head-dress she was preparing made Amelia at length inquire—

"Are you angry, Juliette?"

"I should be silly indeed, miss," answered Juliette; "to be angry because you choose to be generous."

"That is a very sensible answer, Juliette," replied Amelia, "I hope you may feel just as sensible."

Meantime Mary ran home to her father to show her new dress. The good old man, while pleased at his daughter's pleasure, could not help feeling