Aguilar_The_Mothers_Recompense.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
love another?"
she exclaimed, in unfeigned astonishment.
^ unromantic, , is it not ?" said
, laughing heartily ; " but what was the poor man tc
do 7 was inexorable, and refused to bestow on him any
thing but her friendship."
" he truly values," interrupted . .
" must allow, , he was wise, however free from
romance ; the character of , in many points, very much
resembles 's. is one of the very few whom do not
wonder at his choosing, after what had passed. you know,
, marries in the spring?"
" heard something about it ; tell me who to.
complied, and and . joining them,
the conversation extended to more general topics.
", , dear, do not tease your sister," was
's gentle remonstrance, as endeavored, some-
what roughly, to draw from her side, where, however,
she clung with a pertinacity no persuasion or reproach could
shake.
" will hurt ," replied the boy, sturdily, " and she
has no right to take her place by you."
" she may stand here too, there is room for us both ;'*
interrupted the little , though she did not offer to give
up her place in her aunt's lap to her cousin.
" away, , choose to stand here, and aunt
says may," was 's somewhat impatient rejoinder, as
she tried to push her brother away, though her pretty little
features expressed no ill-temper on the occasion, for she laughed
as she spoke.
" promised to dance with me," retorted
and 80 will not go aw&y unless she cornea too?^
496 mother's .
" me, with me !" exclaimed , loiindi3ij
forward to join the group. promised three months ago to
dance with me."
" how often have not performed that promise, -
ter ?" replied , laughing, " even more often with
you than with , so must give him the preference first."
good-natured smiles, the voice which betrayed sucli
real interest in all that pleased her little companions, banished
every appearance of discontent. magic power of aflfection
and sympathy rendered every little pleader satisfied and
pleased; and, after performing her promise with , she
put the final seal to his enjoyment by confiding the little bash-
ful to his especial care ; a charge which, de-
clared, caused his son to hold himself up two inches highex
than he had done yet.
" , if you do no* make yourself as great and deservedly
a favorite with my children as with your brother's and -
line*s, shall never forgive you," said the . , who
had been watching 's cheerful gambols with the
children for the last half hour, in extreme amusement, and now
joined her.
" not so already, ?" she said, smiling that
peculiar smile of quiet happiness which was now natural to her
countenance. " should be sorry if thought they did not
love me equally ; for believe me, with the sole exception of
my little namesake and godchild, my nephews and nieces are
all equally dear to me. have no right to make an exception
even in favor of my little , but has so often
called her mine, and even has promised to share her
maternal rights with me, that really cannot help it.
children do not see so much of me as 's, and that is
the reason perhaps they are not quite so free with me ; but
believe me, dear . , it will not be my fault if they do
not love me."
" do believe you," replied the , warmly. have but
one regret, , when see you loving and beloved by so
many little creatures."
" what may that be ?"
" they are not some of them your own, my dear girl,
cannot tell you how regret the fact, of which each year
the more and more convinces me, that you are determined
ever to remain . ^x^ ^ret ^ few in my list of female
friends so fitted to adoiii t\i^ ixi^tt\^^^& ^XaKfe^^^^T^l^ss^^^ia
mother's recompense. 497
wi^ld make a better motlier, and cannot but regret there
aro none on whom you seem inclined to bestow those endear-
ing and invaluable qualities."
" it then no more, my dear . ," replied ,
calmjy. yet with feeling ; " thank you for that high opinion
which believe you entertain of me, too flattering as it may
be ; but cease to regret that have determined to live an
old maid's life. me, believe me, it has no terrors.
single women the opportunities of doing good, of making
others happy, are more frequent than those granted to mothers
and wives ; and while such is the case, is it not our own fault
if we are not happy? own that the life of solitude which an
old maid's includes, may, if the heart be so inclined, be equally
productive of selfishness, moroseness of temper, and obstinacy
in opinion and judgment, but most fervently trust such
will never be my attributes. can never be while my
beloved aunt and uncle are spared to me, which trust they
will be for many, many years longer ; and even should they
be removed before anticipate, have so many to love me,
so many to dearly love, that can have no time, no room for
selfishness."
" not mistake me, ," . replied, earnestly ;
" do not wish to see you married because dread your be-
coming like some single women ; with your principles such can
never be. society, your influence over the minds of our
children is far too precious to be lightly wished removed, as
it would be were you to marry. is for your own sake,
dearest , regret it, and for the sake of him you might
select, that you, who are so fitted to enjoy and to fulfil them,
can never know the pleasures attendant on the duties of a
happy wife and mother ; that by a husband and child, the
dearest ties on earth, you will go down to the grave unloved."
" are right, . , they are the dearest ties on earth ;
but pleasures, the pleasures of affection, too, are yet left to us,
who may never know them. you not, that to feel it is
my place to cheer and soothe the declining years of those dear
and tender guardians of my infancy, must bring with it enjoy-
ment to see myself welcomed by smiles of love and words of
kindness by all my brothers and sisters to see their children
flock around me as enter, each seeking to be the first to ob-
tain my smile or kiss to know myself of service to my fellow-
creatures, mean not in my own rank, but tlio^ek \i^\i^'^\jQ.^a\a
^'to feel conscious that in every e^ent oi ^^xNIvs^qSk^
498 mother's recompense.
in sickness or sorrow, if those so love requirij my pr*
sence, or feel may give them comfort or sympathy, at leasf
may fly to them, for shall have no tie, no dearer or more
imperious duty to keep me from them are not these consi-
derations enough to render a single life indeed one of hap-
piness, . ? from this calm, unruffled stream of
life can not gather flowers 1"
" would gather them wherever you were placed, my
dear and noble-minded, ," said the , with a warmth
that caused her eyes to glisten. " are right ; with a dis-
position such as yours, have no need to regret you have so
steadfastly refused every oflfer of marriage. girls shall
come to you in that age when they think matrimony is the
only chance of happiness, and you shall teach them felicity
dwells not so much in outward circumstances as in the temper
of the mind. , after all, , you are happier as it
is. might not find such a husband as would wish you,
and should be sorry to see your maternal cares rewarded as
were poor . 's."
" rather think in the blessedness of the present the past
is entirely forgotten," observed , thoughtfully. "
are cares and sorrows attendant on the happiest lot ; but if a
mother does her duty, in my opinion she seldom fails to oh
tain her recompense, however long deferred."
" are right my ," said . , who had
been listening to the conversation some little time unobserved.
" are many sorrows and many cares inseparable from
maternal love, but they are forgotten, utterly forgotten, or only
remembered to enhance the sweetness of the recompense that
ever follows. you not think to see my children, as do
now around me, walking in that path which alone can lead to
eternal life, and leading their offspring with them, bringing up
so tenderly, so fondly, their children as heirs of immortality,
and yet lavishing on me, as on their father, the love and duty
of former years ? not this a precious recompense for all
which for them may have done or borne ? as watched
the departing moments of my , as marked the
triumphant and joyful flight of his pure spirit to his heavenly
home, even then was not rewarded ? saw the fruit of
those lessons had been permitted through grace to inculcate ;
his last breath blessed me, and was not that enough ? ,
nay beloved children, let no difficulties deter you, no tempta-
tion, no selfish suffering prevent your training up the lovely
\
mother's recompense. 499
infants now gambolling around you in the way that they should
go ; solemn is the charge, awful the responsibility, but sweeter
far than words can give it, the reward which either in life oi
death will then be yours."
" , could we perform our parts as you have yours, dear-
est mother, then indeed might we hope it," exclaimed the
. and . , at the same moment, as
they drew closer to their mother, the eyes of both glistening
with emotion as they spoke.
if we do reap the happiness of which you spoke, to
whom shall we owe it, mother ?" demanded , feelingly ;
for he too, attracted by his mother's emotion, had joined the
group. " care, under 's blessing, has made us as
we are, and taught us, not only by precept but example, how
to conduct ourselves and our children ^yoars and my father's ;
and if indeed in after years our children look up to us and
bless us as we do you, oh, my mother, the remembrance of
you will mingle with that blessedness, and render it yet
purer."
" have you spoken, my son," said . , whose
little companions had about half an hour before been trans-
ported to their nursery. " sharing with your dear
mother the happiness arising from your conduct, my children,
often and often has the remembrance of my mother entered
my heart to chasten and enhance those feelings. to
to her, reverence of her memory, have mingled with the pres-
ent joy, and so will it be with you. parents may have
descended to the grave before your children can be to you
what you have been to us, but we shall be remembered ; long,
long may you feel as you think on your mother, my beloved,
children, and teach your offspring to venerate her memory ;
that the path of the just is indeed as a shining light, which
shineth more and more unto the perfect day."