Chapter XVIII · OLD SCENES.

IT was in the leafy month of June that Frida found herself once more treading the Forest paths. The smaller trees were clothed in their bright, fresh, green lining—

and to them the dark, gloomy pines acted as a noble background, and once again the song of birds was heard, and the gentle tinkle, tinkle of the forest streams.

Memory was very busy at work as the girl—nay, woman now—trod those familiar scenes. Yonder was the very tree under which Wilhelm found her, a lonely little one, waiting in vain for the father she would see no more on earth.

There in the distance were the lonely huts of the wood-cutters who had so lovingly cared for the orphan child. And as she drew nearer the hut of the Hörstels, she recognized many a spot where she and Hans had played together as happy children, to whom the sighing of the wind amid the tall pines had seemed the most beautiful music in the world.

As she recalled all these things, her heart filled with love to God, who had cared for and protected her when her earthly friends had cast her off. The language of her heart might have been expressed in the words of the hymn so often sung in Scottish churches:—

Words cannot depict the joy of Elsie and Wilhelm at the sight of their dear woodland child. They had already heard of her having found her English relations, and heartily they rejoiced at the good news, although well they knew that they would seldom see the child they loved so well.

Many were the questions asked on both sides. Frida, on her part, had to describe Harcourt Manor and her gentle grandmother and her father's brother, Dr. Heinz, and his beautiful bride. She told also of the full-sized picture (which hung on the walls of Harcourt Manor) of her mother, which had been the means of the discovery of her birth, from her extraordinary likeness to it.

When the many useful presents sent by Mrs. Willoughby were displayed, the gratitude of those poor people knew no bounds, and even the little girl looked delighted at the bright-coloured, warm frocks and cloaks for winter wear which had been sent for her. Hans was by no means forgotten: some useful books fell to his share when he returned home in a few weeks from Leipsic for a short holiday.

It was with difficulty that Frida tore herself away from those kind friends, and went to the Dorf to see her friends there, and take them the gifts she had brought for them also. It was late ere she reached Dringenstadt, and there, seated by Miss Drechsler, related to her the doings of the day.

To Pastor Langen was entrusted a sum of money to be given to the Hörstels, and also so much to be spent every Christmas amongst the wood-cutters and charcoal-burners in the Dorf. The two Bibles Frida had herself given to the Hörstels, who had been delighted with them.

When, soon after that day, Dr. Heinz and his bride, accompanied by Frida, visited the Forest, they received a hearty welcome. Many of the wood-cutters recognized the resemblance Dr. Heinz bore to his brother who had died in the cottage in the Forest.

Many a story did Dr. Heinz hear of the woodland child and her brown book.

The marriage trip over, the Heinzes, accompanied by Frida, returned to their homes—they to carry on their work of love in the dark places of the great metropolis, taking with them not only comforts for the body, but conveying to them the great and only treasures of the human mind, the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. And to many and many a sin-sick, weary soul the words of Holy Scripture spoken by the lips of those two faithful ambassadors of the Lord Jesus Christ brought peace and rest and comfort. And Frida, on her part, found plenty of work to do for the Master in the cottages near Harcourt Manor, in which her grandmother helped her largely.

Three years had passed since Frida had become an inmate of her grandmother's home, and they had gone for the winter to London in order to be near Frida's relations the Heinzes, and at Frida's request Ada Stanford, who was now much stronger, had come to pay her a visit. Many a talk the two friends had about the past, recalling with pleasure the places they had visited together and the people they had seen. The beauties of Baden-Baden and the sunny Riviera were often dwelt on, and together they loved to review God's wonderful love as regarded them both. They spoke also of their visit to the dying woman in the Glen, whom Frida had long before found out to have been a faithful nurse to her mother, and for whose little grand-daughter Mrs. Willoughby had provided since hearing from Frida of the old woman's death.

Then one day the girls spoke of a musical party which was to take place in Mrs. Willoughby's house that day, and in the arranging for which Ada and Frida had busied themselves even as they had done years before in Baden-Baden for the party at which Frida had played on the violin. A large party assembled that night, and Dr. Heinz and Frida played together; but the great musician of the night was a young German violinist who had begun to attract general attention in the London musical world. He was no other than Hans Hörstel, the playmate of Frida's childhood.

Very cordial was the meeting between those two who had last seen each other in such different circumstances.

And Sir Richard Stanford, who was also present, felt he was well repaid for what he had spent on young Hörstel's education by the result of it, and by the high moral character which the young man bore.

It was a happy night. Frida rejoiced in the musical success of the companion of her early years, and together they spoke of the days of the past, and of his parents, who had been as father and mother to her.

Long after the rest of the company had gone, Hans, by Mrs. Willoughby's invitation, remained on; and ere they parted they together gave thanks for all God's kindness towards them.

All hearts were full of gratitude, for Mrs. Gower was there rejoicing in the news she had that day received from Reginald, that he was about to be married to a niece of Sir Richard Stanford's, whom he had met whilst visiting friends in New York; and she was one who would help in the work for Christ which he carried on in the neighbourhood of his farm. He was prospering as regarded worldly matters, and he hoped soon to take a run home and introduce his bride to his loved mother and his kind friend Mrs. Willoughby. He added, "I need hardly say that ere I asked Edith to marry me I told her the whole story of my sin in concealing what I knew of the birth of Frida Heinz; but she said, what God had evidently forgiven, it became none to refuse to do so likewise."

So after prayer was ended, it was from their hearts that all joined in singing the doxology,—

"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!"

And with this scene we end the story of the child found in the Black Forest, and the way in which her brown German Bible was used there for the glory of God.

THE END.

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.