Elsie's Motherhood

by Martha Finley

  Chapter Twenty-seventh.

  "Conscience makes cowards of us all."

  Meta was not in a cheerful or companionable mood during the walk thatafternoon; the stings of conscience goaded her and she was haunted bythe fear that Violet, so young and innocent, so utterly unused toconcealments, would betray her share in the mischief done, even withoutintending to do so.

  "Meta, what's the matter with you?" Herbert asked at length; "youhaven't spoken a pleasant word since we came out."

  "I'm not ill," was the laconic reply.

  "Then you must be in the sulks, and ought to have staid at home,"returned the plain-spoken brother.

  "Oh don't tease her," said little Elsie. "Perhaps she has a headache,and I know by myself that that makes one feel dull, and sometimes evencross."

  "You cross! I don't believe you ever were in your life," said Herbert."I've never seen you any thing but pleasant as a May morning."

  "Don't quarrel, children, but help me to gather some of these lovelyflowers to scatter over the graves up there on the hill," said RosieDinsmore.

  "Our graves," said Eddie, softly. "Yes I'd like to; but, Aunt Rosie, Idon't believe we can get in."

  "Yes, we can," she answered. "Uncle Joe's up there at work, weeding andtrimming the rosebushes."

  "Then I'll gather plenty of these beauties," said Eddie, stooping topluck the lovely, many-hued blossoms that spangled the velvety grass attheir feet in every direction.

  "How beautiful! how beautiful they are! and some of them so fragrant!"exclaimed Elsie, rapidly filling a pretty basket she carried in herhand. "How good God is to give us so many lovely things!"

  "Yes," returned Rosie, "it seems a pity to pluck them from their stemsand make them wither and die; but there is such a profusion that what wetake can hardly be missed."

  "And it's honoring our graves to scatter flowers over them: isn't it,Aunt Rosie?" Eddie asked.

  "Why do you say our graves? just as if you were already buried there,"laughed Herbert.

  "Come," said Rosie, "I think we have enough now."

  "O Aunt Rosie, down in that little dell yonder they are still thickerthan here, and more beautiful, I think," exclaimed Elsie.

  "But we have enough now; your basket is full. We'll go to that dell aswe come back, and gather some to take home to our mammas."

  "Oh yes, that will be best," Elsie said, with cheerful acquiescence.

  "I shall go now and get some worthy to honor the dead," said Meta,starting off in the direction of the dell.

  "Meta likes to show her independence," said Rosie, smiling; "we won'twait for her."

  They climbed the hill, pushed open the gate of the little enclosure andpassed in; very quietly, for their youthful spirits were subdued by thesolemn stillness of the place, and a feeling of awe crept over them atthought of the dead whose dust lay sleeping there.

  Silently they scattered the flowers over each lowly resting place,reserving the most beautiful for that of her who was best known to themall--the first who had borne the name of Elsie Dinsmore.

  "Our dear grandma!" whispered Elsie and Eddie, softly.

  "I can't help feeling as if she was some relation to me too," saidRosie, "because she was my sister's mother, and papa's wife."

  The breeze carried the words to the ear of Uncle Joe, who was at work onthe farther side of the enclosure, and had not till that moment beenaware of the vicinity of the young people.

  He rose and came hobbling toward them, pulling off his hat and bowingrespectfully.

  "Dat's so, Miss Rosie, ef you lubs de Lord, like she did, de dear youngMissus dat lays heyah; for don't de 'postle say ob de Lord's chillen datdey's all one in Christ Jesus? all one, Miss Rosie: heirs ob God andjoint heirs wid Christ."

  "Yes, Uncle Joe, that is true."

  "Ah, she was lubly an' lubbed de Master well," he went on, leaning uponhis staff and gazing fixedly at the name engraved on the stone, "She'snot dead, chillen: her soul's wid de Lord in dat land ob light an'glory, an' de body planted heyah till de mornin' ob de resurrection."

  "And then she will rise more beautiful than ever," said little Elsie."Mamma has told me about it. 'The dead in Christ shall rise first.'"

  "Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with themin the clouds to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be withthe Lord," repeated Rosie.

  "Yes, Miss Rosie. Bressed hope." And Uncle Joe hobbled back to his work.

  "Here, look at these!" said Meta hurrying up, heated and out of breathwith running, "Aren't they beauties?"

  She emptied her apron upon the grave as she spoke, then pulled out herhandkerchief with a jerk, to wipe the perspiration from her faceSomething fell against the tombstone with a ringing, metallic sound.

  "A key! a door key!" cried Herbert, stooping to pick it up. "Why, Meta,what key is it? and what are you doing with it?"

  "I never heard that it had any particular name," she answered tartly,snatching it from him and restoring it to her pocket, while her cheeksflushed crimson.

  The others exchanged surprised glances, but said nothing.

  "But what door does it belong to? and what are you doing with it?"persisted Herbert.

  "Talk of the curiosity of women and girls!" sneered Meta: "men and boyshave quite as much; but it's against my principles to gratify it."

  "Your principles!" laughed Herbert "You, prying, meddling Meta; talkingabout other people's curiosity! Well, that's a good one!"

  "You insulting boy! I'll tell mamma of you," retorted Meta, beginning tocry.

  "Ha! ha! I wish you would! tell her my remarks about the key, and she'llsoon make you explain where it belongs, and how it came into yourpossession."

  At that Meta, deigning no reply, put her handkerchief to her eyes andhurried away toward the house.

  "There, she's gone to tell mamma," said Harry.

  "Not she," said Herbert, "she knows better; she'd only get reproved fortelling tales, and be forced to tell all about that key. She's been atsome mischief, I haven't a doubt: she's always prying, and meddling withwhat she's been told not to touch. Mamma says that's her besetting sin."

  "And what does she say is yours?" asked Rosie, looking him steadily inthe eye.

  Herbert colored and turned away.

  His mother had told him more than once or twice, that he was quite toomuch disposed to domineer over, and reprove his younger brother andsisters.

  "Well, I don't care!" he muttered to himself, "'tisn't half so mean afault as Meta's. I'm the oldest, and Harry and the girls ought to bewilling to let me tell them of it when they go wrong."

  The key, which belonged to a closet in Mr. Lilburn's dressing-room,seemed to burn in Meta's pocket. She was frightened that Herbert and theothers had seen it.

  "They all looked as if they knew something was wrong," she said toherself, "and to be sure what business could I have with a door-key.Dear me! why wasn't I more careful. But it's like 'murder will out;' orwhat the Bible says; 'Be sure your sin will find you out.'"

  She was afraid to meet her mother with the key in her possession, sotook so circuitous a route to reach the house, and walked so slowly thatthe others were there some time before her.

  Her mother was on the veranda looking out for her. "Why, how late youare, Meta," she said. "Make haste to your room and have your hair anddress made neat; for the tea-bell will soon ring."

  "Yes, ma'am," and Meta flew into the house and up to her room, only tooglad of an excuse for not stopping to be questioned.

  She was down again barely in time to take her seat at the table with theothers. She glanced furtively at the faces of her mother, grandmother,and Aunt Elsie, and drew a sigh of relief as she perceived that they hadevidently learned nothing yet of her misconduct.

  After tea she watched Mr. Lilburn's movements and was glad to see himstep into the library, seat himself before the fire, and take up a book.

  "He's safe to stay there for awhile," she thought, "so fond of readingas he is," and ran up to h
er room for the key, which she had left therehidden under her pillow.

  She secured it unobserved and stole cautiously to the door of hisdressing-room. She found it slightly ajar, pushed it a little wideropen, crept in, gained the closet door, and was in the act of puttingthe key into the lock, when a deep groan, coming from within the closet,apparently, so startled her that she uttered a faint cry, and droppedthe key on the floor; then a hollow voice said, "If you ever touch thatagain, I'll--"

  But Meta waited to hear no more; fear seemed to lend her wings, and sheflew from the room in a panic of terror.

  "Ah ha! ah ha! um h'm! ah ha! you were at some mischief, no doubt, mylassie. 'The wicked flee when no man pursueth,' the good Book tells us,"said the occupant of the room, stepping out from the shadow of thewindow-curtain.

  He had laid down his book almost immediately, remembering that he hadsome letters to write, and had come up to his apartments in search ofone he wished to answer.

  It was already dark, except for the light of a young moon, but by someoversight of the servants the lamps had not yet been lighted here.

  He was feeling about for matches, when hearing approaching footsteps hestepped behind the curtain and waited to see who the intruder was.

  He recognized Meta's form and movements, and sure that no legitimateerrand had brought her there at that time, resolved to give her a fright.

  Tearing down the hall, Meta suddenly encountered her mother, who, comingup to her own apartments, had reached the head of the stairs just intime to witness Meta's exit from those of Mr. Lilburn.

  "Oh I'm so frightened! so frightened, mamma!" cried the child, throwingherself into her mother's arms.

  "As you richly deserve to be," said Mrs. Carrington, taking her by thehand and leading her into her dressing-room. "What were you doing in Mr.Lilburn's apartments?"

  Meta hung her head in silence.

  "Speak, Meta; I will have an answer," her mother said, withdetermination.

  "I wasn't doing any harm; only putting away something that belongedthere."

  "What was it?"

  "A key."

  "Meddling again! prying even into the affairs of a strange gentleman!"groaned her mother. "Meta, what am I to do with you? this dreadful faultof yours mortifies me beyond everything. I feel like taking you back toAshlands at once, and never allowing you to go from home at all; lestyou should bring a life-long disgrace upon yourself and me."

  "Mother, I wasn't prying or meddling with Mr. Lilburn's affairs," saidMeta, bursting into sobs and tears.

  "What were you doing there? tell me all about it without any more ado."

  Knowing that her mother was a determined woman, and seeing that therewas now no escape from a full confession, Meta made it.

  Mrs. Carrington was much distressed.

  "Meta, you have robbed your Aunt Elsie, your Aunt Elsie who has alwaysbeen so good, so kind to me and to you: and I can never make good herloss; never replace that plate."

  "Just that one tiny plate couldn't be worth so very much," muttered theoffender.

  "Its intrinsic value was perhaps not very great," replied Mrs.Carrington, "but to my dear friend it was worth much as a memento of herdead mother. Meta, you shall not go with us to-morrow, but shall spendthe day locked up in your own room at home."

  An excursion had been planned for the next day, in which the wholeparty, adults and children, were to have a share. They were to leave atan early hour in the morning, travel several miles by boat, and spendthe day picnicking on a deserted plantation--one Meta had not yet seen,but had heard spoken of as a very lovely place.

  She had set her heart on going, and this decree of her mother came uponher as a great blow. She was very fond of being on the water, and ofseeing new places, and had pictured to herself the delights of roamingover the large old house, which she had heard was still standing,peeping into the closets, pulling open drawers, perhaps discoveringsecret stairways and--oh delightful thought!--possibly coming upon somehidden treasure forgotten by the owners in their hasty flight.

  She wept bitterly, coaxed, pleaded, and made fair promises for thefuture, but all in vain. Her mother was firm.

  "You must stay at home, Meta," she said. "It grieves me to deprive youof so great a pleasure, but I must do what I can to help you to overcomethis dreadful fault. You have chosen stolen pleasures at the expense ofdisobedience to me, and most ungrateful, wicked behavior toward my kindfriend; and as a just and necessary punishment you must be deprived ofthe share you were to have had in the innocent enjoyments planned forto-morrow. You shall also make a full confession to your Aunt Elsie andask her forgiveness."

  "I won't!" exclaimed Meta angrily; then catching the look of painedsurprise in her mother's face, she ran to her and throwing her armsabout her neck, "O mamma! mamma! forgive me!" she cried. "I can't bearto see you look so grieved: I will never say that again; I will dowhatever you bid me."

  Mrs. Carrington kissed her child in silence, then taking her by thehand, "Come and let us have this painful business over," she said, andled the way to Mrs. Travilla's boudoir.

  Elsie had no reproaches for Meta, but kindly forgave her, and evenrequested that she might be permitted to share in the morrow'senjoyment, but Mrs. Carrington would not hear of it.

  Chapter Twenty-eighth.

  "Mature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts,By mountain, meadow, streamlet grove or cell."--SMOLLET.

  Mr. Dinsmore was pacing the front veranda, enjoying the cool, freshmorning air, when little feet came pattering through the hall and asweet child voice hailed him with, "Good morning, my dear grandpa."

  "Ah, grandpa's little cricket, where were you last evening?" he asked,sitting down and taking her on his knee.

  It was his pet name for Vi, because she was so merry.

  The fair face flushed, but putting her arms about his neck, her lips tohis ear, "I was in mamma's dressing-room, grandpa," she whispered. "Iwas 'bliged to stay there, 'cause I'd been naughty and disobeyed mamma."

  "Ah, I am sorry to hear that I but I hope you don't intend to disobeyany more."

  "No, indeed, grandpa."

  "Are you considered good enough to go with us to-day?"

  "Yes, grandpa, mamma says I was punished yesterday, and I don't bepunished twice for the same thing."

  "Mamma is quite right," he said, "and grandpa is very glad she allowsyou to go."

  "I don't think I deserve it, grandpa, but she's such a dear, kindmamma."

  "So she is, pet, and I hope you will always be a dear good daughter toher," said grandpa, holding the little face close to his.

  Meta was not allowed to come down to breakfast. Vi missed her from thetable, and at prayers, and going up to Mrs. Carrington, asked, "Is Metasick, Aunt Sophie?"

  "No, dear, but she has been too naughty to be with us. I have said shemust stay in her own room all day."

  "And not go to the picnic? Oh please let her go, auntie!"

  The other children joined their entreaties to Vi's, but without avail;and with streaming eyes Meta, at her window, saw the embarkation, andwatched the boats glide away till lost to view in the distance.

  "Too bad!" she sobbed, "it's too, too bad that I must stay here andlearn long hard lessons while all the rest are having such a good time!"

  Then she thought remorsefully of her mother's sad look, as she bade hergood-bye and said how sorry she was to be obliged to leave her behind,and as some atonement set to work diligently at her tasks.

  The weather was very fine, the sun shone, the birds filled the air withmelody, and a delicious breeze danced in the tree-tops, rippled thewater, and played with the brown and golden ringlets of little Elsie andVi, and the flaxen curls of Daisy Carrington.

  The combined influences of the clear, pure air, the pleasant motion, asthe rowers bent to their oars, and the lovely scenery meeting the eye atevery turn, were not to be resisted; and all, old and young, were soonin gayest spirits. They sang songs, cracked jokes, told anecdotes, andwere altogether a very merry compa
ny.

  After a delightful row of two hours or more the rounding of a pointbrought suddenly into view the place of their destination.

  The boats were made fast and the party stepped ashore, followed by themen servants bearing rugs and wraps and several large well-filledhampers of provisions.

  With joyous shouts the children ran hither and thither; the boys tumbledon the grass, the girls gathered great bouquets of the beautifulflowers, twisted them in their curls, and wore garlands for their hats.

  "Walk up to de house, ladies an' gentlemen; Massa an' Missus not at homenow, but be berry glad to see you when dey gets back," said a pleasantvoice close at hand.

  All but Mr. Lilburn looked about for the speaker, wondered at seeing noone, then laughed at themselves for being so often and so easilydeceived.

  "Suppose we accept the invitation," said Mr. Travilla, leading the way.

  The two old ladies preferred a seat under a wide-spreading tree on thelawn; but the others accompanied him in a tour of the deserted mansionalready falling rapidly to decay.

  They climbed the creaking stairs, passed along the silent corridors,looked into the empty rooms, and out of the broken windows upon theflower gardens, once trim and gay, now choked with rubbish, andovergrown with weeds, and sighed over the desolations of war.

  Some of the lower rooms were still in a pretty good state ofpreservation, and in one of these the servants were directed to builda fire and prepare tea and coffee.

  Plenty of dry branches strewed the ground in a bit of woods but a fewrods distant. Some of these were quickly gathered and a brightly blazingfire presently crackled upon the hearth and roared up the wide chimney.

  Leaving the house, which in its loneliness and dilapidation inspiredonly feelings of sadness and gloom, our party wandered over thegrounds, still beautiful even in their forlornly neglected state.

  The domain was extensive, and the older boys having taken an oppositedirection from their parents, were presently out of their sight andhearing, the house being directly between. Uncle Joe, however, was withthe lads, so no anxiety was felt for their safety.

  Wandering on, they came to a stream of limpid water flowing between highgrassy banks, and spanned by a little rustic bridge.

  "Let's cross over," said Herbert, "that's such a pretty bridge, and itlooks lovely on the other side."

  "No, no, 'tain't safe, boys, don't you go for to try it," exclaimedUncle Joe.

  "Pooh! what do you know about it?" returned Herbert, who always hadgreat confidence in his own opinion. "If it won't bear us all at once,it certainly will one at a time. What do you say, Ed?"

  "I think Uncle Joe can judge better whether it's safe than little boyslike us."

  "Don't you believe it: his eyes are getting old and he can't see half sowell as you or I."

  "I kin see dat some ob de planks is gone, Marse Herbert; an' de oletimbahs looks shaky."

  "Shaky! nonsense! they'll not shake under my weight, and I'm going tocross."

  "Now, Herbie, don't you do it," said his brother. "You know mammawouldn't allow it if she was here."

  "'Twon't be disobedience though; as she isn't here, and never hasforbidden me to go on that bridge," persisted Herbert.

  "Mamma and papa say that truly obedient children don't do what they knowtheir parents would forbid if they were present," said Eddie.

  "I say nobody but a coward would be afraid to venture on that bridge,"said Herbert, ignoring Eddie's last remark. "Suppose it should break andlet you fall! the worst would be a ducking."

  "De watah's deep, Marse Herbert, and you might git drownded!" said UncleJoe. "Or maybe some ob de timbahs fall on you an' break yo' leg or yo'back."

  They were now close to the bridge.

  "It's very high up above the water," said Harry, "and a good many boardsare off: I'd be afraid to go on it."

  "Coward!" sneered his brother. "Are you afraid too, Ed?"

  "Yes, I'm afraid to disobey my father; because that's disobeying God."

  "Did your father ever say a word about not going on this bridge?"

  "No; but he's told me never to run into danger needlessly; that is whenthere's nothing to be gained by it for myself or anybody else."

  "Before I'd be such a coward!" muttered Herbert, deliberately walking onto the bridge.

  The other two boys watched his movements in trembling, breathlesssilence, while Uncle Joe began looking about for some means of rescue incase of accident.

  Herbert picked his way carefully over the half-rotten timbers till hehad gained the middle of the bridge, then stopped, looked back at hiscompanions and pulling off his cap, waved it around his head, "Hurrah!here I am: who's afraid? who was right this time?"

  Then leaning over the low railing, "Oh!" he cried, "you ought just to seethe fish! splendid big fellows. Come on, boys, and look at 'em!"

  But at that instant the treacherous railing gave way with a loud crack,and with a wild scream for help, over he went, headforemost, fallingwith a sudden plunge into the water and disappearing at once beneath thesurface.

  "Oh he'll drown! he'll drown!" shrieked Harry, wringing his hands, whileEddie echoed the cry for help.

  "Run to de house, Marse Ed, an' fotch some ob de boys to git him out,"said Uncle Joe, hurrying to the edge of the stream with an oldfishing-rod he had found lying among the weeds on its bank.

  But a dark object sprang past him, plunged into the stream, and asHerbert rose to the surface, seized him by the coat-collar, and soholding his head above water, swam with him to the shore.

  "Good Bruno! brave fellow! good dog!" said a voice near at hand, andturning to look for the speaker, Uncle Joe found Mr. Daly standing byhis side.

  Leaving his gayer companions, the minister had wandered away, book inhand, to this sequestered spot. Together he and Uncle Joe assisted thedog to drag Herbert up the bank, and laid him on the grass.

  The fall had stunned the boy, but now consciousness returned. "I'm nothurt," he said, opening his eyes. "But don't tell mother: she'd befrightened half to death."

  "We'll save her as much as we can; and I hope you've learned a lesson,young sir, and will not be so foolhardy another time," said Mr. Daly.

  "P'raps he'll tink ole folks not such fools, nex' time," remarked UncleJoe. "Bless de Lord dat he didn't get drownded!"

  The men and boys came running from the house, bringing cloaks and shawlsto wrap about the dripping boy. They would have carried him back withthem, but he stoutly resisted, declaring himself quite as able to walkas anybody.

  "Let him do so, the exercise will help to prevent his taking coldprovided he is well wrapped up;" said Mr. Daly, throwing a cloak overthe lad's shoulders and folding it carefully about him.

  "Ill news flies fast," says the proverb. Mrs. Carrington met them uponthe threshold, pale and trembling with affright. She clasped her boy inher arms with a heart too full for utterance.

  "Never mind, mother," he said, "I've only had a ducking, that's all."

  "But it may not be all: you may get your death of cold," she said,"I've no dry clothes for you here."

  By this time the whole party had hurried to the spot.

  "Here's a good fire; suppose we hang him up to dry before it," said oldMr. Dinsmore with a grim smile.

  "His clothes rather; rolling him up in cloaks and shawls in themeantime," suggested Herbert's grandmother. "Let us ladies go back tothe lawn, and leave his uncle to oversee the business."

  Herbert had spoiled his holiday so far as the remainder of the visit tothis old estate was concerned: he could not join the others at the feastpresently spread under the trees on the lawn, or in the sports thatfollowed; but had to pass the time lying idly on a pallet beside thefire, with nothing to entertain him but his own thoughts and watchingthe servants, until, their work done, they too wandered away in searchof amusement.

  Most of the afternoon was spent by the gentlemen in fishing in that samestream into which Herbert's folly and self-conceit had plunged him.

  Eddie had his
own little fishing-rod, and with it in his hand sat on alog beside his father, a little apart from the rest, patiently waitingfor the fish to bite. Mr. Travilla had thrown several out upon thegrass, but Eddie's bait did not seem to attract a single one.

  He began to grow weary of sitting still and silent, and creeping closerto his father whispered, "Papa, I'm tired, and I want to ask yousomething. Do you think the fish will hear if I speak low?"

  "Perhaps not; you may try it if you like," returned Mr. Travilla,looking somewhat amused.

  "Thank you, papa. Well, Herbert said nobody but a coward would be afraidto go on that bridge. Do you think he was right, papa?"

  "No, my boy; but if you had gone upon it to avoid being laughed at orcalled a coward, I should say you showed a great lack of true courage.He is a brave man or boy who dares to do right without regard toconsequences."

  "But, papa, if you'd been there and said I might if I wanted to?"

  "Hardly a supposable case, my son."

  "Well, if I'd been a man and could do as I chose?"

  "Men have no more right to do as they please than boys; they must obeyGod. If his will is theirs, they may do as they please, just as you mayif it is your pleasure to be good and obedient."

  "Papa, I don't understand. Does God say we must not go into dangerousplaces?"

  "He says, 'Thou shalt not kill;' we have no right to kill ourselves, orto run the risk of doing so merely for amusement or to be consideredbrave or dexterous."

  "But if somebody needs us to do it to save them from being hurt orkilled, papa?"

  "Then it becomes quite a different matter: it is brave, generous, andright to risk our own life or limbs to save those of others."

  "Then I may do it, papa?"

  "Yes, my son; Jesus laid down his life to save others, and in all thingshe is to be our example."

  A hand was laid lightly on the shoulder of each, and a sweet voice said,"May my boy heed his father's instructions in this and in every thingelse."

  "Wife!" Mr. Travilla said, turning to look up into the fair face bentover them.

  "Mamma, dear mamma, I do mean to," said Eddie.

  "Is it not time to go home?" she asked. "The little ones are growingweary."

  "Yes, the sun is getting low."

  In a few moments the whole party had reembarked; in less exuberantspirits than in the morning, yet perhaps not less happy: little disposedto talk, but with hearts filled with a quiet, peaceful content.

  Viamede was reached without accident, a bountiful supper awaiting themthere partaken of with keen appetites, and the little ones went gladlyto bed.

  Returning from the nursery to the drawing-room, Elsie found her namesakedaughter sitting apart in a bay window, silently gazing out over thebeautiful landscape sleeping in the moonlight.

  She looked up with a smile as her mother took a seat by her side andpassed an arm about her waist.

  "Isn't it lovely, mamma? see how the waters of our lakelet shine in themoonbeams like molten silver! and the fields, the groves, the hills! howcharming they look in the soft light."

  "Yes, darling: and that was what you were thinking of, sitting herealone?"

  "Yes, mamma; and of how good God is to us to give us this lovely homeand dear, kind father and mother to take care of us. It is always sosweet to come back to my home when I've been away. I was enjoying it allthe way coming in the boat to-night; that and thinking of the glad timewhen we shall all be gathered into the lovelier home Jesus is preparingfor us."

  "God grant we may!" said the mother, with emotion, "it is my heart'sdesire and prayer to God for all my dear ones, especially my children.'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heartof man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.'"