The Cross on the Old Church Tower
Up the dark stairs that led to his poor home strode a gloomy-facedyoung man with despair in his heart and these words on his lips:--"I will struggle and suffer no longer; my last hope has failed, andlife, become a burden, I will rid myself of at once."As he muttered his stern purpose, he flung wide the door and wasabout to enter, but paused upon the threshold; for a glance told himthat he had unconsciously passed his own apartment and come uphigher, till he found himself in a room poorer but more cheerfulthan his own.Sunshine streamed in through the one small window, where a cagedbird was blithely singing, and a few flowers blossomed in the light.But blither than the bird's song, sweeter than the flowers, was thelittle voice and wan face of a child, who lay upon a bed placedwhere the warmest sunbeams fell.The face turned smiling on the pillow, and the voice saidpleasantly,--"Come in, sir, Bess will soon be back if you will wait.""I want nothing of Bess. Who is she and who are you?" asked theintruder pausing as he was about to go."She is my sister, sir, and I'm 'poor Jamie' as they call me. Butindeed, I am not to be pitied, for I am a happy child, though it maynot seem so.""Why do you lie there? are you sick?""No, I am not sick, though I shall never leave my bed again. See,this is why;" and, folding back the covering, the child showed hislittle withered limbs."How long have you lain here, my poor boy?" asked the stranger,touched and interested in spite of himself."Three years, sir.""And yet you are happy! What in Heaven's name have you to render youcontented, child?""Come sit beside me, and I'll tell you, sir; that is, if you pleaseI should love to talk with you, for it's lonely here when Bess isgone."Something in the child's winning voice, and the influence of thecheerful room, calmed the young man's troubled spirit and seemed tolighten his despair. He sat down at the bedside looking gloomilyupon the child, who lay smiling placidly as with skilful hands hecarved small figures from the bits of wood scattered round him onthe coverlid."What have you to make you happy, Jamie? Tell me your secret, for Ineed the knowledge very much," said his new friend earnestly."First of all I have dear Bess," and the child's voice lingeredlovingly upon the name; "she is so good, so very good to me, no onecan tell how much we love each other. All day, she sits beside mybed singing to ease my pain, or reading while I work; she gives meflowers and birds, and all the sunshine that comes in to us, andsits there in the shadow that I may be warm and glad. She waits onme all day; but when I wake at night, I always see her sewingbusily, and know it is for me,--my good kind Bess!"Then I have my work, sir, to amuse me; and it helps a little too,for kind children always buy my toys, when Bess tells them of thelittle boy who carved them lying here at home while they play outamong the grass and flowers where he can never be.""What else, Jamie?" and the listener's face grew softer as thecheerful voice went on."I have my bird, sir, and my roses, I have books, and best of all, Ihave the cross on the old church tower. I can see it from my pillowand it shines there all day long, so bright and beautiful, while thewhite doves coo upon the roof below. I love it dearly."The young man looked out through the narrow window and saw, risinghigh above the house-tops, like a finger pointing heavenward, theold gray tower and the gleaming cross. The city's din was far below,and through the summer air the faint coo of the doves and theflutter of their wings came down, like peaceful country sounds."Why do you love it, Jamie?" he asked, looking at the thoughtfulface that lit up eagerly as the boy replied,--"Because it does me so much good, sir. Bess told me long ago aboutthe blessed Jesus who bore so much for us, and I longed to be aslike him as a little child could grow. So when my pain was verysharp, I looked up there, and, thinking of the things he suffered,tried so hard to bear it that I often could; but sometimes when itwas too bad, instead of fretting Bess, I'd cry softly, looking upthere all the time and asking him to help me be a patient child. Ithink he did; and now it seems so like a friend to me, I love itbetter every day. I watch the sun climb up along the roofs in themorning, creeping higher and higher till it shines upon the crossand turns it into gold. Then through the day I watch the sunshinefade away till all the red goes from the sky, and for a little whileI cannot see it through the dark. But the moon comes, and I love itbetter then; for lying awake through the long nights, I see thecross so high and bright with stars all shining round it, and I feelstill and happy in my heart as when Bess sings to me in thetwilight.""But when there is no moon, or clouds hide it from you, what then,Jamie?" asked the young man, wondering if there were no cloud todarken the cheerful child's content."I wait till it is clear again, and feel that it is there, althoughI cannot see it, sir. I hope it never will be taken down, for thelight upon the cross seems like that I see in dear Bessie's eyeswhen she holds me in her arms and calls me her 'patient Jamie.' Shenever knows I try to bear my troubles for her sake, as she bearshunger and cold for mine. So you see, sir, how many things I have tomake me a happy child.""I would gladly lie down on your pillow to be half as light of heartas you are, little Jamie, for I have lost my faith in everything andwith it all my happiness;" and the heavy shadow which had lifted fora while fell back darker than before upon the anxious face besidethe bed."If I were well and strong like you, sir, I think I should be sothankful nothing could trouble me;" and with a sigh the boy glancedat the vigorous frame and energetic countenance of his new friend,wondering at the despondent look he wore."If you were poor, so poor you had no means wherewith to get a crustof bread, nor a shelter for the night; if you were worn-out withsuffering and labor, soured by disappointment and haunted byambitious hopes never to be realized, what would you do, Jamie?"suddenly asked the young man, prompted by the desire that everyhuman heart has felt for sympathy and counsel, even from the littlecreature before him ignorant and inexperienced as he was.But the child, wiser in his innocence than many an older counsellor,pointed upward, saying with a look of perfect trust,--"I should look up to the cross upon the tower and think of what Besstold me about God, who feeds the birds and clothes the flowers, andI should wait patiently, feeling sure he would remember me."The young man leaned his head upon his folded arms and nothingstirred in the room, but the wind that stole in through the roses tofan the placid face upon the pillow."Are you weary waiting for me, Jamie dear? I could not come before;"and as her eager voice broke the silence, Sister Bess came hasteningin.The stranger, looking up, saw a young girl regarding him fromJamie's close embrace, with a face whose only beauty was the lighther brother spoke of, that beamed warm and bright from her mildcountenance and made the poor room fairer for its presence."This is Bess, my Bess, sir," cried the boy, "and she will thank youfor your kindness in sitting here so long with me.""I am the person who lodges just below you; I mistook this room formy own; pardon me, and let me come again, for Jamie has already doneme good," replied the stranger as he rose to go."Bess, dear, will you bring me a cup of water?" Jamie said; and asshe hastened away, he beckoned his friend nearer, saying with atimid wistful look,--"Forgive me, if it's wrong, but I wish you would let me give youthis; it's very little, but it may help some; and I think you'lltake it to please 'poor Jamie.' Won't you, sir?" and as he spoke,the child offered a bright coin, the proceeds of his work.Tears sprung into the proud man's eyes; he held the little wastedhand fast in his own a moment, saying seriously,--"I will take it, Jamie, as a loan wherewith to begin anew the lifeI was about to fling away as readily as I do this;" and with a quickmotion he sent a vial whirling down into the street. "I'll try theworld once more in a humbler spirit, and have faith in you, atleast, my little Providence."With an altered purpose in his heart, and a brave smile on his lips,the young man went away, leaving the child with another happymemory, to watch the cross upon the old church tower.It was mid-winter; and in the gloomy house reigned suffering andwant. Sister Bess worked steadily to earn the dear daily bread somany pray for and so many need. Jamie lay upon his bed, carving withfeeble hands the toys which would have found far readier purchasers,could they have told the touching story of the frail boy lyingmeekly in the shadow of the solemn change which daily drew morenear.Cheerful and patient always, poverty and pain seemed to have nopower to darken his bright spirit; for God's blessed charity hadgifted him with that inward strength and peace it so often brings tothose who seem to human eyes most heavily afflicted.Secret tears fell sometimes on his pillow, and whispered prayerswent up; but Bess never knew it, and like a ray of sunshine, theboy's tranquil presence lit up that poor home; and amid the darkesthours of their adversity, the little rushlight of his childish faithnever wavered nor went out.Below them lived the young man, no stranger now, but a true friend,whose generous pity would not let them suffer any want he couldsupply. Hunger and cold were hard teachers, but he learned theirlessons bravely, and though his frame grew gaunt and his eye hollow,yet, at heart, he felt a better, happier man for the sterndiscipline that taught him the beauty of self-denial and theblessedness of loving his neighbor better than himself.The child's influence remained unchanged, and when anxiety ordisappointment burdened him, the young man sat at Jamie's bedsidelistening to the boy's unconscious teaching, and receiving freshhope and courage from the childish words and the wan face, alwayscheerful and serene.With this example constantly before him, he struggled on, feelingthat if the world were cold and dark, he had within himself one trueaffection to warm and brighten his hard life."Give me joy, Jamie! Give me joy, Bess! the book sells well, and weshall yet be rich and famous," cried the young author as he burstinto the quiet room one wintry night with snow-flakes glittering inhis hair, and his face aglow with the keen air which had no chill init to him now.Bess looked up to smile a welcome, and Jamie tried to cry "Hurrah;"but the feeble voice faltered and failed, and he could only wave hishand and cling fast to his friend, whispering, brokenly,--"I'm glad, oh, very glad; for now you need not rob yourself for us.I know you have, Walter; I have seen it in your poor thin face andthese old clothes. It never would have been so, but for Bess andme.""Hush, Jamie, and lie here upon my arm and rest; for you are verytired with your work,--I know by this hot hand and shortened breath.Are you easy now? Then listen; for I've brave news to tell you, andnever say again I do too much for you,--the cause of my success.""I, Walter," cried the boy; "what do you mean?"Looking down upon the wondering face uplifted to his own, the youngman answered with deep feeling,--"Six months ago I came into this room a desperate and despairingman, weary of life, because I knew not how to use it, and eager toquit the struggle because I had not learned to conquer fortune byenergy and patience. You kept me, Jamie, till the reckless mood waspassed, and by the beauty of your life showed me what mine shouldbe. Your courage shamed my cowardice; your faith rebuked my fears;your lot made my own seem bright again. I, a man with youth, health,and the world before me, was about to fling away the life which you,a helpless little child, made useful, good, and happy, by the powerof your own brave will. I felt how weak, how wicked I had been, andwas not ashamed to learn of you the lesson you so unconsciously wereteaching. God bless you, Jamie, for the work you did that day.""Did I do so much?" asked the boy with innocent wonder; "I neverknew it, and always thought you had grown happier and kinder becauseI had learned to love you more. I'm very glad if I did anything foryou, who do so much for us. But tell me of the book; you never wouldbefore."With a kindling eye Walter replied,--"I would not tell you till all was sure; now, listen. I wrote astory, Jamie,--a story of our lives, weaving in few fancies of myown and leaving you unchanged,--the little counsellor and good angelof the ambitious man's hard life. I painted no fictitious sorrows.What I had seen and keenly felt I could truly tell,--your cheerfulpatience, Bess's faithful love, my struggles, hopes, and fears. Thisbook, unlike the others, was not rejected; for the simple truth,told by an earnest pen, touched and interested. It was accepted, andhas been kindly welcomed, thanks to you, Jamie; for many buy it tolearn more of you, to weep and smile over artless words of yours,and forget their pity in their reverence and love for the child whotaught the man to be, not what he is, but what, with God's help, hewill yet become.""They are very kind, and so are you, Walter, and I shall be proud tohave you rich and great, though I may not be here to see it.""You will, Jamie, you must; for it will be nothing without you;" andas he spoke, the young man held the thin hand closer in his own andlooked more tenderly into the face upon his arm.The boy's eyes shone with a feverish light, a scarlet flush burnedon his hollow cheek, and the breath came slowly from his partedlips, but over his whole countenance there lay a beautiful serenitywhich filled his friend with hope and fear."Walter bid Bess put away that tiresome work; she has sat at it allday long, never stirring but to wait on me;" and as he spoke, atroubled look flitted across the boy's calm face."I shall soon be done, Jamie, and I must not think of rest tillthen, for there is neither food nor fuel for the morrow. Sleep,yourself, dear, and dream of pleasant things; I am not very tired."And Bess bent closer to her work, trying to sing a little song, thatthey might not guess how near the tears were to her aching eyes.From beneath his pillow Jamie drew a bit of bread, whispering to hisfriend as he displayed it,--"Give it to Bess; I saved it for her till you came, for she will nottake it from me, and she has eaten nothing all this day.""And you, Jamie?" asked Walter, struck by the sharpened features ofthe boy, and the hungry look which for a moment glistened in hiseye."I don't need much, you know, for I don't work like Bess; but yetshe gives me all. Oh, how can I bear to see her working so for me,and I lying idle here!"As he spoke, Jamie clasped his hands before his face, and throughhis slender fingers streamed such tears as children seldom shed.It was so rare a thing for him to weep that it filled Walter withdismay and a keener sense of his own powerlessness. Ho could bearany privation for himself alone, but he could not see them suffer.He had nothing to offer them; for though there was seeming wealth instore for him, he was now miserably poor. He stood a moment, lookingfrom brother to sister, both so dear to him, and both so plainlyshowing how hard a struggle life had been to them.With a bitter exclamation, the young man turned away and went outinto the night, muttering to himself,--"They shall not suffer; I will beg or steal first."And with some vague purpose stirring within him, he went swiftly onuntil he reached a great thoroughfare, nearly deserted now, butechoing occasionally to a quick step as some one hurried home to hiswarm fireside."A little money, sir, for a sick child and a starving woman;" andwith outstretched hand Walter arrested an old man. But he onlywrapped his furs still closer and passed on, saying sternly,--"I have nothing for vagrants. Go to work, young man."A woman poorly clad in widow's weeds passed at that moment, and, asthe beggar fell back from the rich man's path, she dropped a bit ofsilver in his hand, saying with true womanly compassion,--"Heaven help you! it is all I have to give.""I'll beg no more," muttered Walter, as he turned away burning withshame and indignation; "I'll take from the rich what the poor sofreely give. God pardon me; I see no other way, and they must notstarve."With a vague sense of guilt already upon him, he stole into a moreunfrequented street and slunk into the shadow of a doorway to waitfor coming steps and nerve himself for his first evil deed.Glancing up to chide the moonlight for betraying him, he started;for there, above the snow-clad roofs, rose the cross upon the tower.Hastily he averted his eyes, as if they had rested on the mild,reproachful countenance of a friend.Far up in the wintry sky the bright symbol shone, and from it seemedto fall a radiance, warmer than the moonlight, clearer than thestarlight, showing to that tempted heart the darkness of the yetuncommitted wrong.That familiar sight recalled the past; he thought of Jamie, andseemed to hear again the childish words, uttered long ago, "God willremember us."Steps came and went along the lonely street, but the dark figure inthe shadow never stirred, only stood there with bent head, acceptingthe silent rebuke that shone down upon it, and murmuring, softly,--"God remember little Jamie, and forgive me that my love for him ledme astray."As Walter raised his hand to dash away the drops that rose at thememory of the boy, his eye fell on the ring he always wore for hisdead mother's sake. He had hoped to see it one day on Bess's hand,but now a generous thought banished all others and with the energyof an honest purpose be hastened to sell the ring, purchase a littlefood and fuel, and borrowing a warm covering of a kindly neighbor,he went back to dispense these comforts with a satisfaction he hadlittle thought to feel.The one lamp burned low; a few dying embers lay upon the earth, andno sound broke the silence but the steady rustle of Bess's needle,and the echo of Jamie's hollow cough."Wrap it around Bess; she has given me her cloak, and needs it morethan I,--these coverings do very well;" and as he spoke, Jamie putaway the blanket Walter offered, and suppressing a shiver, hid hispurple hands beneath the old, thin cloak."Here is bread, Jamie; eat for Heaven's sake, no need to save itnow;" and Walter pressed it on the boy, but he only took a little,saying he had not much need of food and loved to see them eat farbetter.So in the cheery blaze of the rekindled fire, Bess and Walter broketheir long fast, and never saw how eagerly Jamie gathered up thescattered crumbs, nor heard him murmur softly, as he watched themwith loving eyes,--"There will be no cold nor hunger up in heaven, but enough forall,--enough for all.""Walter, you'll be kind to Bess when I am not here?" he whisperedearnestly, as his friend came to draw his bed within the ruddycircle of the firelight gleaming on the floor."I will, Jamie, kinder than a brother," was the quick reply. "Butwhy ask me that with such a wistful face?"The boy did not answer, but turned on his pillow and kissed hissister's shadow as it flitted by.Gray dawn was in the sky before they spoke again. Bess slept thedeep, dreamless sleep of utter weariness, her head pillowed on herarms. Walter sat beside the bed, lost in sweet and bitter musings,silent and motionless, fancying the boy slept. But a low voice brokethe silence, whispering feebly."Walter, will you take me in your strong arms and lay me on mylittle couch beside the window? I should love to see the crossagain, and it is nearly day."So light, so very light, the burden seemed, Walter turned his faceaside lest the boy should see the sorrowful emotion painted there,and with a close embrace he laid him tenderly down to watch thefirst ray climbing up the old gray tower."The frost lies so thickly on the window-panes that you cannot seeit, even when the light comes, Jamie," said his friend, vainlytrying to gratify the boy's wish."The sun will melt it soon, and I can wait,--I can wait, Walter;it's but a little while;" and Jamie, with a patient smile, turnedhis face to the dim window and lay silent.Higher and higher crept the sunshine till it shone through thefrostwork on the boy's bright head; his bird awoke and carolledblithely, but he never stirred."Asleep at last, poor, tired little Jamie; I'll not wake him tillthe day is warmer;" and Walter, folding the coverings closer overthe quiet figure, sat beside it, waiting till it should wake."Jamie dear, look up, and see how beautifully your last rose hasblossomed in the night when least we looked for it;" and Bess camesmiling in with the one white rose, so fragrant but so frail.Jamie did not turn to greet her, for all frost had melted from theboy's life now; another flower had blossomed in the early dawn, andthough the patient face upon the pillow was bathed in sunshine,little Jamie was not there to see it gleaming on the cross. God hadremembered him.Spring showers had made the small mound green, and scattered flowersin the churchyard. Sister Bess sat in the silent room alone, workingstill, but pausing often to wipe away the tears that fell upon aletter on her knee.Steps came springing up the narrow stairs and Walter entered with abeaming face, to show the first rich earnings of his pen, and askher to rest from her long labor in the shelter of his love."Dear Bess, what troubles you? Let me share your sorrow and try tolighten it," he cried with anxious tenderness, sitting beside her onthe little couch where Jamie fell asleep.In the frank face smiling on her, the girl's innocent eyes readnothing but the friendly interest of a brother, and remembering hiscare and kindness, she forgot her womanly timidity in her greatlonging for sympathy, and freely told him all.Told him of the lover she left years ago to cling to Jamie, and howthis lover went across the sea hoping to increase his little fortunethat the helpless brother might be sheltered for love of her. Howmisfortune followed him, and when she looked to welcome back aprosperous man, there came a letter saying that all was lost and hemust begin the world anew and win a home to offer her before heclaimed the heart so faithful to him all these years."He writes so tenderly and bears his disappointment bravely for mysake; but it is very hard to see our happiness deferred again whensuch a little sum would give us to each other."As she ceased, Bess looked for comfort into the countenance of hercompanion, never seeing through her tears how pale it was withsudden grief, how stern with repressed emotion. She only saw thefriend whom Jamie loved and that tie drew her toward him as to anelder brother to whom she turned for help, unconscious then howgreat his own need was."I never knew of this before, Bess; you kept your secret well" hesaid, trying to seem unchanged.The color deepened in her cheek; but she answered simply, "I neverspoke of it, for words could do no good, and Jamie grieved silentlyabout it, for he thought it a great sacrifice, though I looked on itas a sacred duty, and he often wearied himself to show in manyloving ways how freshly he remembered it. My grateful little Jamie."And her eyes wandered to the green tree-tops tossing in the wind,whose shadows flickered pleasantly above the child."Let me think a little, Bess, before I counsel you. Keep a goodheart and rest assured that I will help you if I can," said Walter,trying to speak hopefully."But you come to tell me something; at least, I fancied I saw somegood tidings in your face just now. Forgive my selfish grief, andsee how gladly I will sympathize with any joy of yours.""It is nothing, Bess, another time will do as well," he answered,eager to be gone lest he should betray what must be kept mostclosely now."It never will be told, Bess,--never in this world," he sighedbitterly as he went back to his own room which never in his darkesthours had seemed so dreary; for now the bright hope of his life wasgone."I have it in my power to make them happy," he mused as he satalone, "but I cannot do it, for in this separation lies my onlyhope. He may die or may grow weary, and then to whom will Bess turnfor comfort but to me? I will work on, earn riches and a name, andif that hour should come, then in her desolation I will offer all toBess and surely she will listen and accept. Yet it were a generousthing to make her happiness at once, forgetful of my own. How shallI bear to see her waiting patiently, while youth and hope are fadingslowly, and know that I might end her weary trial and join twofaithful hearts? Oh, Jamie, I wish to Heaven I were asleep with you,freed from the temptations that beset me. It is so easy to perceivethe right, so hard to do it."The sound of that familiar name, uttered despairingly, aloud, fellwith a sweet and solemn music upon Walter's ear. A flood of tendermemories swept away the present, and brought back the past. Hethought of that short life, so full of pain and yet of patience, ofthe sunny nature which no cloud could overshadow, and the simpletrust which was its strength and guide.He thought of that last night and saw now with clearer eyes thesacrifices and the trials silently borne for love of Bess.The beautiful example of the child rebuked the passion of he man,and through the magic of affection strengthened generous impulsesand banished selfish hopes."I promised to be kind to Bess, and with God's help I will keep myvow. Teach me to bear my pain, to look for help where you found it,little Jamie;" and as he spoke, the young man gazed up at theshining cross, striving to see in it not merely an object of thedead boy's love, but a symbol of consolation, hope, and faith."It is a noble thing to see an honest man cleave his own heart intwain to fling away the baser part of it."These words came to Walter's mind and fixed the resolution waveringthere, and as his glance wandered from the gray tower to thechurchyard full of summer stillness, he said within himself,--"This is the hardest struggle of my life, but I will conquer andcome out from the conflict master of myself at least, and likeJamie, try to wait until the sunshine comes again, even if it onlyshine upon me, dead like him."It was no light task to leave the airy castles built by love andhope, and go back cheerfully to the solitude of a life whose onlyhappiness for a time was in the memory of the past. But through theweeks that bore one lover home, the other struggled to subdue hispassion, and be as generous in his sorrow as he would have been inhis joy.It was no easy conquest; but he won the hardest of all victories,that of self, and found in the place of banished pride andbitterness a patient strength, and the one desire to be indeed moregenerous than a brother to gentle Bess. He had truly, "cleft hisheart in twain and flung away the baser part."A few days before the absent lover came, Walter went to Bess, and,with a countenance whose pale serenity touched her deeply, he laidhis gift before her, saying,--"I owe this all to Jamie; and the best use I can make of it is tosecure your happiness, as I promised him I'd try to do. Take it andGod bless you, Sister Bess.""And you, Walter, what will your future be if I take this and goaway to enjoy it as you would have me?" Bess asked, with anearnestness that awoke his wonder."I shall work, Bess, and in that find content and consolation forthe loss of you and Jamie. Do not think of me; this money will do mefar more good in your hands than my own. Believe me it is best to beso, therefore do not hesitate."Bess took it, for she had learned the cause of Walter's restlesswanderings and strange avoidance of herself of late, and she judgedwisely that the generous nature should be gratified, and thehard-won victory rewarded by the full accomplishment of itsunselfish end. Few words expressed her joyful thanks, but from thattime Walter felt that he held as dear a place as Jamie in hergrateful heart, and was content.Summer flowers were blooming when Bess went from the old home ahappy wife, leaving her faithful friend alone in the little roomwhere Jamie lived and died.Years passed, and Walter's pen had won for him an honored name.Poverty and care were no longer his companions; many homes were opento him, many hearts would gladly welcome him, but he still lingeredin the gloomy house, a serious, solitary man, for his heart laybeneath the daisies of a child's grave.But his life was rich in noble aims and charitable deeds, and withhis strong nature softened by the sharp discipline of sorrow, andsweetened by the presence of a generous love, he was content todwell alone with the memory of little Jamie, in the shadow of "thecross upon the tower."
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